Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry
Nona Lyons Editor
Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry
Editor Nona Lyons University College Cork Dept. Education Donovan’s Road Cork Ireland
ISBN 978-0-387-85743-5 e-ISBN 978-0-387-85744-2 DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2 Springer New York Dordrecht Heidelberg London Library of Congress Control Number: 2009930366 © Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2010 All rights reserved. This work may not be translated or copied in whole or in part without the written permission of the publisher (Springer Science+Business Media, LLC, 233 Spring Street, New York, NY 10013, USA), except for brief excerpts in connection with reviews or scholarly analysis. Use in connection with any form of information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed is forbidden. The use in this publication of trade names, trademarks, service marks, and similar terms, even if they are not identified as such, is not to be taken as an expression of opinion as to whether or not they are subject to proprietary rights. Printed on acid-free paper Springer is part of Springer Science+Business Media (www.springer.com)
Preface
Often, those convinced of the possibilities of reflection and reflective inquiry, who wish to implement it especially for the professional education of students, find only conflicting ideas of reflection and little or no clear direction for how they might or could proceed. Some despair and give up. But surprisingly, in these deeply troubling times, when unprecedented global and national change surrounds us with financial and ethical disasters and uncertainty, many professionals are turning back to educating for reflection and reflective inquiry with the hope for a new viability of their professions. John Dewey, who witnessed profound changes brought about by war and radical ideas in his own lifetime suggests the nature of the challenge of these times: “…any significant problem involves conditions that for the moment contradict each other. Solution comes only by getting away from the meaning of terms that is already fixed upon and coming to see the conditions from another point of view, and hence a fresh light. But this reconstruction means travail of thought” (Dewey, 1902, pp. 3–4).
This Handbook, addressing reflection and reflective inquiry, and acknowledging Dewey’s caution, aims to bring together in one source a robust state of the art re-view of reflection and reflective inquiry for professional life and learning. The goal is to make what might appear familiar and easily grasped strange again, open to fresh insight.
Visions of Reflection and Reflective Practice in Real-Life Projects As a Prologue to this Handbook, I turn to explore the life and work of two pre-eminent practitioners of reflective practice, Maxine Greene, philosopher and teacher, of Columbia Teachers College and the Lincoln Center Institute for the Arts; and Lee Shulman, teacher educator and researcher, of Stanford University and former President of the Carnegie Foundation for Advancement of Teaching. I had thought that at the beginning of this Handbook it might be useful to look at what it is like to spend a life in pursuit and support of reflection and of inquiry. So I consulted with these two people who care deeply about thinking and reflecting and have devoted their professional lives to it. I wanted to ask what has it meant to them? Why do they care? Must reflection and reflective inquiry be an aim of education Originally I had asked Maxine and Lee each to project their vision of the future of reflective practice to be part of a concluding chapter in this Handbook. But as we talked in interviews, I found their responses to an opening question tantalizing: “Looking back over what you have accomplished in a rich career, what stands out for you in your work with reflection and reflective inquiry?” (Lyons, 2009).
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For each, a life story emerged and with it a narrative of how each approaches reflection. What was surprising was that both revealed that they engaged in reflection through a life project. Their visions and life projects though different and distinct – Maxine’s project through the arts and humanities and Lee’s through research on teaching – each offers a way to think about our own approaches to reflective practice. Their experiences open a theme for this Prologue, that is, the significance of sustained attention to reflection and its infinite veins of variability, risk, and satisfaction. This chapter contrasts in brief the different life projects of Maxine Greene and Lee Shulman, examines the beginnings of these projects, how reflective agendas entered their work, and the ways the projects unfolded. Here, reflection is defined as a deep consciousness engaged in how one thinks about and approaches a life work. This discussion makes possible ideas about how professionals themselves might be educated to consider their profession as a life project.
Maxine Greene: The Life Project Anyone who meets Maxine Greene quickly learns of her passion for being wide-awake, for moving others to elevate their lives by a conscious endeavor, to discover – each in his or her own terms – what it would mean to “live deliberately.” Maxine has several touchstones of being wide-awake. She often recalls Henry David Thoreau and his year (1846) of living at Walden Pond and writing about that experience. Thoreau came to see how necessary it is to arouse people from somnolence and ease: Moral reform is the effort to throw off sleep. Why is it that men give so poor an account of their day if they have not been slumbering? If they had not been overcome with drowsiness they would have performed something. The millions are awake enough for physical labor; but only one in a million is awake enough for effective intellectual exertion, only one in a hundred millions to a poetic or divine life. To be awake is to be alive (Thoreau, 1963, pp.66–67).
Maxine also looks to philosopher Alfred Schutz’s emphasis on the sense of wideawakeness as a concreteness, to being in the world and having a purpose: Schutz elaborates: By the term “wide-awakeness” we want denote a plane of consciousness of highest tension originating in an attitude of full attention to life and its requirements. Only the performing and especially the working self is fully interested in life and, hence, wide-awake. It lives within its acts and its attention is exclusively directed to carrying its project into effect, to executing its plan. This attention is an active one, not a passive one. Passive attention is the opposite to full awareness (Schutz, 1967, p. 213).
Schutz’s points out that “heightened consciousness and reflectiveness are meaningful only with respect to human projects, human undertakings human beings define themselves by means of their projects, and that wide-awakeness contributes to the creation of the self” (Greene, 1977, p. 121). In 1977, Maxine revealed how these ideas connected her to a life project, that is, promoting human consciousness through education in the arts and humanities. She says, “If it is the case, as I believe it is, that involvement with the arts and humanities has the potential for provoking precisely this sort of reflectiveness, we need to devise ways of integrating them into what we teach at all levels of the educational enterprise” (Greene.1977, p.121). For Maxine a life project is found in the arts and humanities as they provided ways into wide-awakeness. She sees: It is, at least on one level, evident that works of art – Moby Dick, for instance, a Hudson River landscape painting, Charles Ives’ Concord Sonata – must be directly addressed by existing and situated persons, equipped to attend to the qualities of what presents itself to them Works of art are human achievements, renderings of the ways in which aspects of reality have impinged upon human consciousness. But all art forms must be encountered as achievements that can only be brought to significant life when human beings engage with them imaginatively (Greene, 1977, p. 121).
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These ideas of Maxine’s carried over the years changed overtime. 10 years later, in the late 1980s, in her book, The Dialectic of Freedom,” Maxine wrote of that time as one of carelessness and thoughtlessness – so like our own. She found that then a kind of anxiety, an uncertainty of purposes, the kind of time Virginia Woolf spoke of as “embedded in a nondescript cotton wool” in contrast to living “consciously” (Woolf, 1976, p. 70). Maxine’s book addressed human freedom, the capacity to surpass the given and look at things as if they could be otherwise. John Dewey, one of Maxine’s mentors, said that he sought freedom “in something which comes to be, in a certain kind of growth, in consequences rather than antecedents” (Dewey, 1960, 280). We are free, he said “not because of what we statistically are, but in so far as we are becoming different from what we have been.” Maxine reveals how she finds an anchor in consciousness. “Consciousness, it so happens, involves the capacity to pose questions to the world, to reflect on what is presented in experience. It is not to be understood as an interiority. Embodied, thrusting into the lived and perceived, it opens out to the common. Multiple interpretations constitute multiple realities; the “common” itself becomes multiplex and endlessly challenging, as each person reaches out from his/her own ground toward what might be, should be, is not yet (Greene 1988, pp. 20–21).
Maxine cautions that human beings create themselves by going beyond what exists, by trying to bring something into being: There is, however, no orientation to bringing something into being if there is no awareness of something lacking in a situation. The lacks, as we have seen, may be due to what has happened in the past, to injustices in the present, to the deficits and discomforts associated with being alive at a particular time and place. They may be due to unreflectiveness, to the incapacity to interpret lived situations. It seems evident that all this holds relevance for a conception of education – if education is conceived as a process of futuring, of releasing persons to become different. Action signifies beginnings and in education, beginnings must be thought possible if authentic learning is expected to occur (Greene, 1988, p. 22).
Thus Maxine links consciousness to education and to freedom, the consciousness of authorship has much to do with the consciousness of freedom. Maxine makes these links because she sees: “Human beings, of course, devise their life projects in time – against their own life histories and the wider human history into which these histories feed.”
When asked about the beginnings of her concern about wakefulness and why that became important to her, Maxine recalls her family. I think partly because it seemed to me, maybe in my own family, that people were disinterested in so many of the things I was interested in. They weren’t awakened to the sound of music or painting. It was, [that] they distanced themselves. It has nothing to do with their experience. And what the world called a kind of somnolence scared me, that being half asleep. “Thoreau used the word wide-awakeness. And so many people live below the level of awareness and I associate that with reflectiveness, because I think of Hannah Arendt and other people who talk about thinking about what they are doing, thinking about being alive. And that means taking the risk of looking inside, taking the risk of asking yourself, why am I doing this? And growing up I was lucky enough to live across the street from the Brooklyn Museum. And Sundays they had a free concert in the Sculpture Court. And I think I started to go there when I was eleven, because it was across the street. And not only couldn’t I not believe the music, but I wanted to join that world. I liked that community better than my home community, so that was part of it. It was something about music and culture that did not exist in my house. What connects in my case is literature. Its novels and poetry. Some people are more attracted to music, and we have to allow for that. We have to find out what it is that really turns a kid on, you know. And I think we have to attend to that in children” (Lyons, 2009).
Maxine acknowledges that she sustains herself and her work by always reading. “When I’m reading I’m moved into another domain and I find things I never knew before. Maxine
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says too that she finds in Toni Morrison and other writers role models: those” who have real projects and have the guts to realize them, to go through the disappointments, the rejections and come back. Those are role model” (Cruickshank, 2009, p. 2). Since 1976 Maxine has served as Philosopher in Residence at the Lincoln Center Institute where each year she lectures and hosts literature-as-art workshops during the summer for teachers from schools all over the New York metropolitan area and meets regularly with teachers at their schools during the school year. Some assert that she has educated ten thousands of teachers in North America (Pinar, 1998, p. 1). Now in her nineties, Maxine recently was preparing a syllabus for one of her classes at Columbia. Maxine holds firmly to her belief, “without the ability to think about yourself, to reflect on your life, there’s really no awareness, no consciousness. Consciousness does not come automatically; it comes through being alive, awake, curious and often furious” (Cruickshank, 2008, p. 1).
Lee Shulman Lee Shulman’s life work as a teacher educator and researcher on teaching had a profound moment of change in 1968. At that time Lee was at Michigan State in the teacher education program nurturing a research agenda, studying how teachers think. Pioneering new research methods by asking teachers to think aloud about how they would go about thinking through a problem of teaching, Lee was concerned to map teacher thinking. Just then Michigan announced its decision to start a Medical School. The new Dean invited Lee to come to study how doctors go about thinking through a problem; an agenda similar to the project he was conducting on how teachers think (Lyons, 2009; Shulman, 1998; 2004. Lee calls this as a critical juncture for him when he switched over to the Medical Education Program. He brought with him his research methods and his best graduate students. “But what was striking in the switch was that colleagues in Medical School thought about physicians and what they did as professionals in such different ways from the ways we did about teachers” (Lyons, 2009). Doctors were thought of as people who did hard work that could only be done by people who were of superior intelligence. And most of the people in the public agreed with that and never challenged it openly or questioned the kind of compensation they received. And when you did the kind of research that I did about how doctors think, the credibility and legitimacy that they were credited with indicated that they were analytic and self-conscious enough so that if they tell you how they got from what a patient describes and tells you to a diagnosis; they came across as legitimate. Thus they also were legitimate persons to tell you about their reasoning. And this was during that period in the study of teaching when leaders in that field did not take that seriously, that is, teacher thinking. The dominant research paradigm was the process-product model where you did not have to concern yourself with how teachers thought, what their reasoning was or how they were reflecting on their practice – only what results it yielded in behaviors. Yet no one would have thought to do that kind of work with a physician – correlating their behaviour only with outcomes not with their thinking. How people think was not taken seriously in teaching. In medicine it was taken very seriously and welcomed. You are helping us to open the black box of doctor’s thinking and to medical folks that was opening up mysteries of how physicians thought – important things they wanted to know in medicine. But nobody was thinking about that for teachers. So I think it was rather remarkable that while I was at Michigan State they opened up a Medical school that took teaching very seriously. They began with a philosophy that medicine was a field that took seriously that the work of medicine was to solve problems. The Dean of the Medical School said this is what we need to know. It dominated the next 6 years of my career (Lyons, 2009).
But, Lee was very committed to his research agenda and while at Stanford on a Guggenheim in 1974, he was invited to put together a panel for the national planning
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conference on research on teaching at a National Institute of Education conference. The panel was the only one [of ten] that concentrated on teacher thinking. The success of that panel led to the national competition for an Institute for Research on Teaching which was eventually established at Michigan State University. Lee and his colleagues were looking at a variety of ways to understand teachers’ thought, how they made sense, how they decided what to teach, or began to develop theories about how kids learn. And this is where a paradigm change came to me. This was the chance to take work I was doing in Medicine and shift to teaching. The Institute for Research on Teaching (IRT) pulled me back from medical problem-solving to teaching. I might not have gone back to teaching (Lyons, 2009).
In 1982, Lee moved to Stanford University and spent 15 years there. During that time, importantly he came to reframe his research question from asking, How do teachers think about…? To the subject matter of teaching. How does somebody who knows something about something teach that to someone else who doesn’t know it? At Stanford, Lee felt he was freed from running an institute – the IRT – now to focus again on his research – now on the pedagogical content knowledge of teaching. He used the same methodology he had been using with the Physicans’ Studies. He also taught students in the Teacher Education Program who were learning to teach. It was at this time too that Lee and Gary Sykes were invited to write a policy paper on the potential for a National Board for Professional Teaching Standards and how it might do its work. In 1985, they were asked to develop and field test the first prototypes for a National Board assessment. Lee and some colleagues came up with the first protocol for the National Board for the Professional Teaching Standards (NBPTS). Then Lee was immediately asked to create it. Joined by his graduate students, Lee began using some variations of his research methods as methods for assessing teachers – for example simulations. Then came the portfolio idea which quickly became widely accepted. The assessment of the portfolio begins with the quality of the teaching, learning, planning, evaluation, etc. that is documented in the portfolio and also the quality of the analysis, reflection, and critique of the work the teacher presents. But, reflection is not a replacement for action and performance in teaching, it is its complement. But, Lee avers, without an understanding and demonstration of teaching as action and performance, reflection alone is nearly worthless. In 1990, Lee and his colleagues handed over everything to the new National Board and they ran with it. Today, there are 75,000 certified Board teachers in the United States, certified as exemplary teachers. At this time, Lee began to experiment with the use of teaching cases as a way to teach teachers. He experimented with cases as the core of the curriculum for the Teacher Education Program. At that time he began having conversations with people in higher education. They would ask Lee, could the work he was doing with K-12 teachers apply to higher education. For example, would portfolios then being used with K-12 teachers, with such satisfaction for the deep sense of a person’s teaching they revealed, also be appropriate for higher education people? Thus, Lee came to work for the next 11 years on the scholarship of teaching at the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching. While President of the Carnegie Foundation, he and his colleagues also conducted systematic comparative studies of how students were prepared for the professions of law, engineering, the clergy, nursing, and medicine.
Coda on Two Life Projects Here, two master teachers and proponents of reflection and reflective inquiry have shared life projects. Lee Shulman has been investigating how professional people think, how they come to know something, and what it takes to teach that to someone else. He
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has translated this kind of careful thought and teaching through his work in assessment and in new ways to understand teaching competence. He has opened new forms of assessment not only to K-12 teaching but to inquiries into teaching in Higher Education, where he has fostered a new scholarship of teaching. Maxine Greene has similarly worked with teachers across all levels. Her project takes its form through the arts, theatre, dance, painting and literature. Her concern has been with how to promote greater consciousness and caring in living and learning. Her association with the Lincoln Center Institute with its brilliant summer programs with artists in performance and Maxine teaching has created a legendary approach to professional teaching and learning. Through the Lincoln Center project the arts and artists come into schools to work directly with students and teachers. These are not presentations. Rather, the artists work with students engaging them in dance, painting, drama, etc. The burning concern of both Maxine and Lee, these master teachers, is to foster being aware, conscious, and reflective of one’s own and others’ ways of thinking and being. I must acknowledge here that I personally have benefitted from the life projects of these two exceptional people, Maxine Greene, and Lee Shulman. Both have been mentors to me. I met Maxine through the Lincoln Center project which I had sponsored for the Scarsdale Public Schools through my role as its Director of Curriculum and Staff Development. In the summer of 1978, just in my first year as a doctoral student at the Harvard Graduate School of Education, I attended a week of the Lincoln Center program to encourage the Scarsdale participation. It was at lunch toward the end of that week that I enlisted Maxine’s advice in helping me think through my doctoral work. I wondered if I should focus that work on reflective development. Needless to say Maxine’s warm support and enthusiastic encouragement sent me on my way. She would be one of the readers of my thesis. Following my doctorate, and while teaching in the Teacher Education Program at Harvard, I undertook to study a group of teachers asking about the conflicts they encountered in their professional lives. I also asked if these had any moral or ethical components. I discovered that most teachers found ethical dimensions in their professional conflicts, but what was most surprising to me was the nature of their conflicts. Many involved situations of knowing, of their work as teachers: For example: When should they enter their opinions into a class discussion, if that might encourage students to think there was one right answer? Or, how to encourage students to ask their own questions? Or when to not allow a student to voice an opinion? These epistemological dimensions of teachers’ decision making became aspects of a Spencer Foundation grant I submitted to create a set of cases for teacher education purposes. It was at a Spencer Fellows meeting in 1987 that I met Lee Shulman, at one of the incredible sessions Spencer sponsored in which new researchers met to make presentations and to talk with experienced, seasoned ones. Lee’s interest in my work and encouragement were profound in my life. Always so encouraging, asking good questions, making good suggestions, Lee was remarkably a mentor. And I found as I continued in teacher education that I followed his work, especially his work with assessment for the National Board for Professional Teaching Standards, and the development of the portfolio idea. I began encouraging portfolios in teacher education for beginning teachers, and almost from the start I began to do interviews with students to uncover just how and what they were learning from the process. In addition, with Lee’s encouragement I started a Special Interest Group on Portfolios and Reflection for AERA, and completed a book on the subject, With Portfolio in Hand: Validating the New Teacher Professionalism(1998.I also sponsored a yearly Portfolio Conference. Lee’s support helped in each of these projects. Through these effort, I met a young woman, Anne Rath, a Harvard grad, just about to start a Portfolio Program at University College Cork (UCC) Ireland. And we thought of doing some research across institutions. She invited me to Ireland and I went there for a
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year. While I was there, the new president initiated a new award for faculty for Excellence in Teaching at UCC. Faculty would submit a portfolio of their teaching. The vice President, Aine Hyland, asked if I would introduce the portfolio idea to the larger faculty. Thus, began a 10 year collaboration with UCC. It was my privilege to encourage faculty from across disciplines to share their potential portfolio entries with each other in a seminar. So successful were these seminars, so interested were faculty to learn of each other’s teaching that a new program of faculty education began. This was my introduction to working across disciplines and I must acknowledge that this work led to the idea for this Handbook. I began to wonder what was the state of the art of reflective practice across disciplines? What could we learn from examining that? I invite your participation in the project.
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Acknowledgments
This Handbook is the work and achievement of many people. First, it claims my appreciation for the results of the efforts of the individuals who authored and created its chapters, who did careful digging, inquiring on their own into reflection and reflective practice in diverse professions and pedagogical practices. They document change and development in the ways of conceptualizing, interpreting and understanding reflection and reflective inquiry, and its usefulness within several professions, including teacher education, the law, medicine, nursing, social work, teaching K-12, adult education, occupational therapy, and probation services. With the results of those authors who examined the many varied teaching practices, it is possible to trace the evolving and vibrant teaching ways to foster a reflective practice. The goal for these writers of pedagogies is challenging: to present the practices with enough detail so that others, if they chose to do so, might be able to try out and pursue a practice in their own classrooms. I especially want to thank all of the reviewers of these chapters, a splendid array of world-wide talent. Their careful work, chosen observations and studied recommendations make this Handbook a document of worth in settings local and global. The Handbook is a testimony especially to those who gave advice and counseled me on how to proceed. I count among them these advisers: Jean Clandinin, University of Alberta, Blythe Clinchy, Emerita, Wellesley College, Cheryl Craig, University of Houston, Pamela Moss, University of Michigan, and Nel Noddings, Emerita, Stanford University. Others offered advice in special circumstances, including Maxine Greene, Lee Shulman, Vicki LaBoskey, Mills College, Tom Russell, Queen’s University, David Boud, University of Technology, Sydney, Australia, and Kay Johnston, Colgate College. I cannot omit two stalwart colleagues, Joan Moon, formerly of the Writing Program of the University of Massachusetts at Boston, who served as chief editorial advisor and indefatigable reader to me; and Carla Lillvik, of Gutman Library of the Harvard Graduate School of Education, who offered me invaluable guidance and steadfast assistance in researching this work. I thank, too, Marie Sheldon, of Springer Publishers for her wise guidance. I want to give a special word of thanks to all of the students represented here in these reports and studies, whose voices and minds are in our heads as we try to understand the intricacies of reflection and reflective practice. I thank my American students and my
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colleagues at University College Cork, Ireland, especially Marian Murphy, Maria Dempsey and Carmel Halton of the Applied Social Studies Department, where I have worked for the last 10 years with them and their students, and those faculty and students as well at St.Anglea’s College, Sligo and Trinity College Dublin as we struggle still to make sense of the things students tell us and grow in understanding of reflection and reflective inquiry. Cork, Ireland
Nona Lyons
Advisors
Jean Clandinin Director of the Centre for Research for Teacher Education, University of Alberta, Canada Cheryl J.Craig Department of Curriculum and Instruction, University of Houston, USA Carla Lillvik Research and Distance Services Librarian, Monroe C. Gutman Library, Harvard Graduate School of Education Vicki LaBoskey Mills College, Oakland, CA, USA Pamela Moss School of Education, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, MI, USA Joan Moon Professor of Writing and Critical Thinking, University of Massachusetts, Boston, MA, USA Nel Noddings Lee L. Jacks Professor of Child Education, Emerita, Stanford University, Stanford, CA, USA Tom Russell Queen’s University, Kingston, ON, Canada
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Reviewers
Donna Schwartz-Barcott, PhD, RN Professor, College of Nursing, University of Rhode Island Denis Bracken Rector, St. Paul’s College & Associate Professor, Faculty of Social Work, University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, MB, Canada David Boud University of Technology, Sydney, NSW, Australia Colin Bradley, MD, MICGP, FRCGP Dept of General Practice, University College Cork, Ireland Helen Burchell University of Hertfordshire, England Tina Blythe Adjunct Lecturer, Harvard Graduate School of Education, Cambridge, MA, USA Peter Cantillon Professor of Medical Education, National University of Ireland, Galway, Ireland. Philip Chambers University of Worcester, UK D. Jean Clandinin Professor and Director of the Centre for Research for Teacher Education and Development at the University of Alberta, Edmonton, AB, USA Blythe McVicker Clinchy Professor, emerita, Department of Psychology, Wellesley College, Wellesley, MA, USA Cheryl J. Craig Professor in the Department of Curriculum and Instruction at the University of Houston, Houston, TX, USA Patrick Croskerry MD, PhD Dalhousie University, Halifax, NS, Canada
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Janet DeLany Towson University, Towson, MD, USA Mark Doel Centre for Health and Social Care Research, Sheffield Hallam University, Sheffield, UK Zongyi Deng, Zongyi DENG, PhD Associate Professor, Faculty of Education, The University of Hong Kong, Hong Kong Nancy Dluhy, PhD, RN Chancellor Professor, College of Nursing, University of Massachusetts Dartmouth, North Dartmouth, MA, USA Helen Featherstone Associate Professor Emerita of Teacher Education, Michigan State University, East Lansing, MI, USA Anne Reilley Freese University of Hawaii, USA James Garrison Virginia Tech, Blacksburg, VA, USA Robert G. Goodman Principal, R. Goodman Associates, Watertown, MA, USA S. Gopinathan Associate Dean, Office of Education Research and Professor, Leadership and Policy Studies Academic Group National Institute of Education, Nanayang Technological University, Singapore Carmel Halton Lecturer and Director of Practice in the Department of Applied Social Studies at University College, Cork, Ireland Deborah Helsinde Graduate School of Education, Harvard University, Cambridge, MA, USA Ingrid Hillinger, Boston College Law School, Newton, MA, USA Barb Hooper University of New Mexico, Albuquerque, NM, USA Kay Johnston Colgate University, Syracuse, NY, USA Vicki Kubler LaBoskey Professor of Education, Mills College, Oakland, CA, USA Sandra M. Lawrence Mt. Holyoke College, MA, USA Catherine C. Lewis Mills College, Oakland, CA, USA Amia Lieblich The Hebrew University, Israel Sue Lillyman University of Central England, UK
Reviewers
John Loughran Foundation Chair in Curriculum & Pedagogy in the Faculty of Education, Monash University, Australia Maria Ines Marcondes Professor and Researcher in Education at the Graduate Program in Education at Pontifícia Universidade Católica do Rio de Janeiro, Brazil Joan Moon Retired Professor of Writing and Critical Thinking, University of Massachusetts, Boston, MA, USA Pamela A. Moss Professor of Education, University of Michigan School of Education, Ann Arbor, MI, USA Laurie A. Morin Professor at University of the District of Columbia David A. Clarke School of Law. Washington, DC, USA Nel Noddings Lee L. Jacks Professor of Child Education Emerita at Stanford University, Stanford, CA, USA Margaret Olson St. Francis Xavier University. Antigonish, NS, Canada Bairbre Redmond University College Dublin, Ireland Carol Rodgers Associate professor of education in the department of Educational Theory and Practice at University of Albany, State University of New York, Albany, NY, USA Anthony Ryan Department of Paediatrics and Child Health, University College Cork, Ireland Seok Hoon Seng Psychological Studies Academic Group, National Institute of Education, Nanyang Technological University, Singapore Dr. Donna Schwartz-Barcott University of Rhode Island College of Nursing, USA Daniel Schwartz Professor in the Learning Sciences, Technology and Design program at Stanford University in the School of Education, Stanford, CA, USA Dr. Silvia Mamede Studart Soares Medical School-Federal University of Ceará, Ceará State, Brazil James W. Stigler Professor of Psychology at UCLA, Los Angeles, CA, USA Tad Watanabe Kennesaw State University, Carrollton, GA, USA
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George Wilson College Lecturer, School of Sociology, Social Policy and Social Work, Queens University, Northern Ireland Kenneth M. Zeichner Boeing Professor of Teacher Education, University of Washington, Seattle, WA, USA
Contents
Part Iâ•… Reflection and Reflective Inquiry 1 Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Critical Issues, Evolving Conceptualizations, Contemporary Claims and Future Possibilities.............. Nona Lyons
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Part IIâ•… Foundational Issues: Needed Conceptual Frameworks 2 Reflective Inquiry: Foundational Issues – “A Deepening of Conscious Life”................................................................................................. Nona Lyons
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3 The Role of Descriptive Inquiry in Building Presence and Civic Capacity................................................................................................ Carol Rodgers
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Part IIIâ•… Reflective Inquiry in the Professions 4 A Critical Analysis of Reflection as a Goal for Teacher Education.................. Ken Zeichner and Katrina Yan Liu
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5 Education for the Law: Reflective Education for the Law................................ Filippa Marullo Anzalone
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6 Reflective Inquiry in the Medical Profession...................................................... 101 C. Anthony Ryan 7 Occupational Therapy as a Reflective Practice.................................................. 131 Ellen S. Cohn, Barbara A. Boyt Schell, and Elizabeth Blesedell Crepaeu 8 Application of Critical Reflective Inquiry in Nursing Education..................... 159 Hesook Suzie Kim, Laurie M. Lauzon Clabo, Patricia Burbank, and Mary Leveillee Diane Martins
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╇ 9 Reflective Inquiry in Social Work Education................................................... 173 Marian Murphy, Maria Dempsey, and Carmel Halton 10 Reflective Practice in the Professions: Teaching.............................................. 189 Cheryl J. Craig 11 Critical Reflection as an Adult Learning Process............................................ 215 Stephen Brookfield 12 Fostering Reflective Practice in the Public Service: A Study of the Probation Service in the Republic of Ireland........................................ 237 Carmel Halton Part IVâ•… Facilitating and Scaffolding Reflective Engagement: Considering Institutional Contexts 13 A Child Study/Lesson Study: Developing Minds to Understand and Teach Children............................................................................................. 257 Joan V. Mast and Herbert P. Ginsburg 14 Within K-12 Schools for School Reform: What Does it Take?....................... 273 Michaelann Kelley, Paul D. Gray, Jr., Donna J. Reid, and Cheryl J. Craig 15 Reflective Inquiry in the Round......................................................................... 299 Steve Seidel Part Vâ•… Professional Pedagogies and Research Practices: Teaching and Researching Reflective Inquiry 16 Inquiry for Equity: Supporting Teacher Research.......................................... 319 Anna E. Richert and Claire Bove 17 “Doing as I Do”: The Role of Teacher Educator Self-Study in Educating for Reflective Inquiry................................................................... 333 Vicki Kubler LaBoskey and Mary Lynn Hamilton 18 Professional Pedagogies and Research Practices: Teaching and Researching Reflective Inquiry Through a Medical Portfolio Process.................................................................................................. 351 Martina Kelly 19 Narrative Inquiry as Reflective Practice: Tensions and Possibilities............. 385 Charles Aiden Downey and D. Jean Clandinin 20 Reflection Through Collaborative Action Research and Inquiry................... 401 J. Loughran 21 Developing Transformative Curriculum Leaders Through Reflective Inquiry................................................................................................ 417 Chen Ai Yen and David Ng
Contents
22 From Subject to Object: A Constructive-Developmental Approach to Reflective Practice......................................................................... 435 Robert Kegan and Lisa Laskow Lahey Part VIâ•… Approaches to Assessing Reflective Practice and to the Ethical Dimensions of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry 23 Beginnings: Inquiry Practices: How Can They Be Taught Well?.................. 455 Herbert P. Ginsburg, Ann E. Cami, and Michael D. Preston 24 Approaches to Portfolio Assessment of Complex Evidence of Reflection and Reflective Practice....................................................................................... 475 Nona Lyons 25 Reflective Practice as Conscious Geometry: Portfolios as a Tool for Sponsoring, Scaffolding and Assessing Reflective Inquiry in Learning to Teach........................................................................................... 491 Anne Rath 26 The Ethical Dimensions of Reflective Practice................................................. 519 Nona Lyons Part VIIâ•… Reflective Inquiry: What Future? 27 Going to the Core: Deepening Reflection by Connecting the Person to the Profession............................................................................... 531 Fred A.J. Korthagen and Angelo Vasalos 28 A Reflective Inquiry as Participatory and Appreciative Action and Reflection.......................................................................................... 555 Tony Ghaye 29 Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: What Future?............................................ 573 Nona Lyons Author Index............................................................................................................... 581 Subject Index............................................................................................................... 593
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Introduction
To introduce the Handbook itself, here I present its objectives. Following that the components of its parts and chapters are described. The Handbook will: • Examine how reflection and reflective inquiry have been conceptualized and re-conceptualized over time with certain elements emphasized. The review begins with the work of John Dewey, and includes Donald Schon and theorists Paulo Freire, Jack Mezirow , and contemporary teacher educators who are promoting a critical inquiry for teachers and their students. Such developments, it is argued, looked at together can provide a new interpretive framework useful for understanding reflective practice and its many entry points. It is the argument of this work that people enter reflective practice from many valid platforms, now more visible through the new interpretive framework. • Look at why today we are witnessing an international re-awakening of interest in and commitment to reflection and reflective inquiry, especially for the education of professionals. • Examine the role reflective practice has played in the education of professionals both in the past and present, in such fields as the law, medicine, education, etc. • Consider why it is a necessity to teach reflection. Acknowledging that reflection and reflective inquiry are complex, it has not always been the practice to teach reflection. Today it needs to be introduced, scaffolded, and explicitly taught. A range of tested pedagogies with explicit discussion of how they are and can be implemented will be presented. • Evaluate increased efforts to promote professionals to take an inquiry stance in their work lives today; • Review the ethical dimensions that can emerge in engaging in reflection and reflective inquiry; and what needs to be considered in approaching the assessment of reflective practice; and, • Project with seasoned researchers and practitioners the possible future of reflection and reflective practice.
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Organization of the Handbook • The Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry is comprised of seven major sections with 29 chapters. • Part I, Reflection and Reflective Inquiry, opens with a discussion of definitional issues and how the field has been conceptualized and re-conceptualized over time and how that re-conceptualization can provide a key to the interpretation of certain issues in the history of reflection. • Part II, Foundational Issues: Needed Conceptual Frameworks addresses several foundational issues in conceptualizing and practicing reflection. The first is the necessity for a meta-cognitive perspective when dealing with reflection. One chapter, Foundational Issues, examines the perspectives toward knowing and their role in engaging in reflection or reflective inquiry. Chapter 3, The Role of Descriptive Inquiry in Reflection and in Building Presence and Civic Capacity, examines the foundational issues in engaging in a pedagogy of reflection and reflective inquiry, that is, attending to how we perceive and see our students. • Part III, Reflective Inquiry in Professional Education, takes up one major agenda of the Handbook, that is, to present an overview of reflection in the education of today’s professionals. Nine professions are included – ones chosen because they have a fairly robust – if sometimes recent – history of engaging in reflection: teacher education, the law, medical education, occupational therapy, nursing education, social work education, education K-12, adult education and probation services. These disciplines are also ones that have experienced recent renewed interest in reflective practice. Some have had a long and continuous relationship with reflection, such as Occupational Therapy. The authors of the chapters are all practitioners in their fields, actively involved in promoting reflection. They are also researchers who have been investigating the aspects of reflection in their fields. Included in these chapters are brief histories of reflection in the particular discipline. A concluding act could look across these presentations to examine commonalities. What can we learn by examining the reflective engagement in different professions? • Part IV, Facilitating and Scaffolding Reflective Engagement: Considering Institutional Contexts, observes that contexts matter and addresses some special cases. Three chapters comprise this section: one, Child Study/Lesson Study: Developing Minds to Understand and Teach Children, addresses a new approach to the study of young children. Another chapter, Reflection in the Round offers an introduction to Educational Rounds, an educational version suggested by medical rounds. The chapter describes the practice and its history and why it is attracting teachers and students of schools and universities. School reform is the topic of the third chapter of this section and it takes up work in secondary schools addressing school reform. • Part V, Professional Pedagogies and Research Practices; Teaching and Researching Reflective Inquiry. This section, the second largest in the Handbook, addresses teaching and researching reflection and reflective inquiry. Seven pedagogical approaches are presented: as inquiry, as self-study, through a portfolio process, as narrative inquiry, as collaborative action co-inquiry; through curriculum design, and by a constructivist developmental approach. Each is described so that one interested in implementing the pedagogy might do so. • Part VI, Approaches to Assessing Reflection and Reflective Inquiry and to Identifying the Ethical Dimensions of Reflective Inquiry. This section of the Handbook addresses two critical issues: how to approach the assessment of reflection and reflective inquiry; and, the task of considering the potential ethical dimensions of reflection and reflective inquiry. In addition, two chapters address the critical question of how to teach reflective inquiry, in this case through a portfolio process. The approaches here focus on the issues that are necessary to be addressed.
Introduction
• Part VII, Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: What Future? The Handbook concludes with a look at the future, to consider how practitioners of reflective inquiry today think about and are approaching the future of this phenomenon.
References Cruikshank, D. (2008). Maxine Greene: The Importance of Personal Reflection. Retrieved March 29, 2009 from http://www.edutopia.org/maxine-greene. Dewey, J. (1902). The Child and the Curriculum. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Dewey, J. (1960). Philosophies of freedom. In R. Bernstein (ed.), On Experience, Nature and Freedom. New York: Liberal Arts. Greene, M. (1977). Towards Wide-Awakeness: An argument for the arts and humanities in education. Teachers College Record, 79(1), 119–124. Greene, M. (1988). The Dialectic of Freedom. New York: Teachers College Press. Lyons, N. (2009). Interview Project, Maxine Greene, Lee Shulman, conducted by N. Lyons, Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry Project. Pinar, W. (1998). The passionate Mind of Maxine Greene : I am …not yet. London: Routledge, UK Schutz, A. (1967). Collected Papers, (Ed.), Maurice Natanson, Viol. 1, p. 213. The Hague: Mailman Nijhoff. Shulman, L. S. (1998). Teaching portfolios: A theoretical activity. In: N. Lyons (ed.), With Portfolio in Hand: Validating the New Teacher Professionalism. New York: Teachers College Press. Shulman, L. S. (2004). The Wisdom of Practice: Essays on Teaching, Learning, and Learning to Teach. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Thoreau, H. D. (1963). The Variorum Walden. New York: Washington Square Press, pp. 166–167. Woolf, V. (1976/1939). Moments of Being. New York: Harcourt Brace Javanovich, p. 70.
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Contributors
Filippa Marullo Anzalone is professor and associate dean for library and computing services Boston College Law School. E-mail:
[email protected]. Claire G. Bove is a Middle School Science teacher and is affiliated with Mills College, Oakland, CA, USA. Stephen Brookfield is Distinguished University Professor at the University of St. Thomas in Minneapolis-St. Paul, Minnesota. For 10 years he had been a Professor of Higher and Adult Education at Columbia University in New York. Since beginning his teaching career in 1970, he had worked in England, Canada, Australia, and the United States, teaching in a variety of college settings. He has written twelve books on adult learning, teaching, critical thinking, discussion methods, and critical theory, four of which have won the Cyril O. Houle World Award for Literature in Adult Education (in 1986, 1989, 1996 and 2005). E-mail:
[email protected]. Patricia Burbank, D.N.Sc., RN. directs the Gerontological Clinical Nurse Specialist concentration at the University of Rhode Island College of Nursing and teaches in the MS and PhD programs. She is also a faculty member in the interdisciplinary RI Geriatric Education Center. Dr. Burbank is the author/editor of numerous articles and three books: Drug Therapy and the Elderly (with A. Swonger), Promoting Exercise among Older Adults: Interventions with the Transtheoretical Model (with D. Riebe), and Vulnerable Older Adults: Health Care Needs and Interventions. E-mail:
[email protected]. Ann Cami is Adjunct Assistant Professor of Psychology and Education, Teachers College, Columbia University, NY, USA. Ai-Yen Chen is associate professor at the School of Education, National Institute of Education, Nanyang Technological University, Singapore. E-mail:
[email protected]. Laurie M. Lauzon Clabo, PhD, RN, is the Associate Dean in the College of Nursing at the University of Rhode Island. Before joining the faculty, Dr. Lauzon Clabo held a number of positions in nursing leadership. Her program of research builds on a long-standing interest in how nurses make decisions in practice, and in particular, how the socio-cultural context of the nursing unit impacts the practice of the individual nurse. E-mail:
[email protected].
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D. Jean Clandinin is Professor and Director of the Centre for Research for Teacher Education and Development at the University of Alberta. A former teacher, counsellor, and psychologist, she is author or co-author of eight books and numerous chapters and articles. She edited the Handbook of Narrative Inquiry: Mapping a methodology (Sage, 2007). Within the field of education, Dr. Clandinin’s research has had a profound impact upon the related areas of teacher knowledge, teacher education, and narrative inquiry Her research on teachers’ personal practical knowledge has altered our understanding of the role that teachers play in curriculum making in their classrooms and of the need for incorporating this knowledge into teacher education programs. She has been instrumental in the development of narrative inquiry as an alternative methodology for conducting research in the social sciences. Ellen S. Cohn, ScD, OTR/L, FAOTA is Clinical Associate Professor, Occupational Therapy Department, Boston University, College of Health and Rehabilitation Sciences, Boston, MA, USA, E-mail:
[email protected]. Cheryl Craig is a Professor in the Department of Curriculum and Instruction at the University of Houston where she is the Coordinator of the Teaching and Teacher Education Program Area and Director of Elementary Education. She is a Past-President of the American Association of Teaching and Curriculum (AATC) and a Past-Chair of the Portfolio and Reflection in Teaching and Teacher Education Special Interest Group (SIG) of the American Educational Research Association (AERA). Currently, she is Co-Chair of AERA’s Narrative and Research SIG. E-mail:
[email protected]. Elizabeth Blesedell Crepaeu, PhD, OTR, FAOTA, England, Professor of Occupational Therapy, Occupational Therapy Department, University of New Hampshire, College of Health and Human Services, Durham, NH, USA, E-mail:
[email protected]. Maria Dempsey is a counselling psychologist, lecturer, and Director of the Masters Degree in Counselling Psychology in the Department of Applied Psychology, University College, Cork, Ireland. She has published in international peer reviewed journals on reflective teaching and learning in professional education. Other areas of research interest include teenage pregnancy and adolescent sexuality. E-mail:
[email protected]. C. Aiden Downey is currently spending his time as National Academy of Education/ Spencer Foundation Postdoctoral Fellow writing about inner-city teachers. Before this he was the Myer Horowitz Postdoctoral Fellow at the Centre for Research for Teacher Education and Development at the University of Alberta. A former teacher, pharmacist, and Marine, he is currently working to start a charter school that seeks to realize democratic education. Tony Ghaye is the Director of Reflective Learning-UK, a not-for-profit organisation dedicated to working to improve lives and livelihoods through appreciative action and reflection. Tony is a social entrepreneur, an organisational strategist, and developer of the PAAR methodology (Participatory and Appreciative Action and Reflection). His current PAAR projects place learning through reflection at the heart of developing employee well-being, sustaining innovation, and building workplace cultures of appreciation. E-mail: tony.
[email protected]. Herbert P. Ginsburg, Ph.D., Jacob H. Schiff Foundation Professor of Psychology and Education Teachers College, Columbia University, 525 West 120th Street, New York, NY 10027, USA. Dr. Ginsburg’s research interests include the development of mathematical thinking (with particular attention to young children and disadvantaged populations) and the assessment of cognitive function. He has developed mathematics curricula for young children, tests of mathematical thinking, and video workshops to enhance teachers’ understanding of student understanding of mathematics. E-mail:
[email protected].
Contributors
Paul Gray, Ed.D. with over 14 years in education, currently serves as the Director of Mathematics and Science for the Pearland Independent School District in Pearland, TX, USA. Having served as a mathematics and science teacher and a secondary mathematics curriculum specialist, Paul’s practical and research interests include how mathematics and science teachers construct their personal practical knowledge through collaboration and reflection. Paul is also the President of the Texas Council of Teachers of Mathematics and serves the mathematics education community at the local, state, and national levels. E-mail:
[email protected]. Carmel Halton is a lecturer and Director of Practice in the Department of Applied Social Studies at University College, Cork, Ireland. She has published in international peer reviewed journals on reflective teaching and learning in social work and on the Irish Probation Service. One of her primary concerns is to improve teaching, research, and practice links between the university and practitioners. E-mail:
[email protected]. Mary Lynn Hamilton, Professor in Curriculum & Teaching, University of Kansas is a co-editor of The International Handbook of Self-Study of Teaching and Teacher Education Practices (2004). Her research interests combine teachers’ professional knowledge, issues of social justice, and the self-study of teaching practices. E-mail:
[email protected]. Heesook Suzie Kim, PhD, RN, taught at the University of Rhode Island College of Nursing from 1973 until she retired in 2004 and was dean of the college from 1983 to 1988. She coordinated the adult nursing program at the undergraduate level, and taught mostly in the master’s and doctoral programs. She has published extensively in the area of nursing epistemology, theory development in nursing, the nature of nursing practice, and in collaborative decision-making in nursing as well as in various areas of clinical nursing research. She has been an international researcher and leader in nursing theory development with an emphasis on the nature of nursing practice. E-mail:
[email protected]. Robert Kegan is Co-Director of the Change Leadership Group, is the Meehan Professor of Adult Learning and Professional Development at the Harvard Graduate School of Education. His research and writing looks at the possibility of continued psychological development in adulthood; and its necessity if professionals are to deliver on the complex challenges inherent in twenty-first century work. E-mail:
[email protected]. Michaelann Kelley, M.Ed. and doctoral candidate at the University of Houston, is a teacher at Eisenhower High School, in the Aldine Independent School District, where she teaches art, ceramics, and higher-level studio art in the International Baccalaureate Programme. She works with teachers in developing their knowledge of their practice through collaboration and reflection. As a National School Reform Faculty National Facilitator, she has personally trained more than three hundred teachers to be critical friends coaches in the regional area. E-mail:
[email protected]. Martina Kelly teaches at the Department of General Practice, University College Cork, Brookfield Health Sciences Complex, Cork, Ireland. E-mail:
[email protected]. Fred Korthagen is at VU University, Amsterdam, Institute for Multi-level learning (IML), Amsterdam a professor of education in the Netherlands, specializing in the professional development of teachers and teacher educators, especially the promotion of reflection. In 2000 and 2006, he received the Exemplary Research in Teaching and Teacher Education Award from AERA. E-mail:
[email protected]. Vicki Kubler LaBoskey, Professor of Education, Mills College, Oakland, CA is a coeditor of The International Handbook of Self-Study of Teaching and Teacher Education Practices (2004). Her research and professional activity is focused on educational transformation in support of greater equity and social justice, via reflective inquiry, particularly the
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self-study of teaching practices. E-mail:
[email protected], Vicki Kubler LaBoskey, Professor of Education, Mills College, Oakland, CA, USA. Lisa Lahey is Associate Director of the Change Leadership Group at the Harvard Graduate School of Education. E-mail:
[email protected]. Mary Leveillee, M.S., RN. C.S. is a psychiatric mental health clinical nurse specialist with an extensive clinical experience who teaches in the undergraduate psychiatric/mental health nursing program at the College. Her areas of research interests are women’s issues, eating disorders, and client-nurse relationships. She is completing her doctorate at the University of Rhode Island. E-mail:
[email protected]. Katrina Yan Liu is a doctoral student at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. E-mail:
[email protected]. John Loughran is the Foundation Chair in Curriculum & Pedagogy in the Faculty of Education, Monash University, Australia. John has been a science teacher for 10 years before moving into teacher education. His research has spanned both science education and the related fields of professional knowledge, reflective practice, and teacher research. John is the co-editor of Studying Teacher Education and is on the Editorial Board for Teachers and Teaching: Theory and Practice. E-mail:
[email protected]. edu.au. Nona Lyons, who holds a doctorate in psychology from the Harvard Graduate School of Education, is a Visiting Research Scholar at University College Cork (UCC), Ireland where, for the last 10 years, she has been coaching faculty and students in creating reflective teaching portfolios. Her current research is directed towards documenting the results of these efforts and what portfolio-makers claim they are learning from the process, especially their awareness of themselves and their students as knowers, of what they know and how they know it. Lyons works closely with members of the Education Department and the Department of Applied Social Studies at UCC, and with faculty at St. Angela’s College, Sligo. Among her publications are: Narrative Inquiry in Practice: Advancing the Knowledge of Teaching, edited with Vicki Kubler Laboskey for Teachers College Press; and, With Portfolio in Hand: Validating the New Teacher Professionalism, edited by Nona Lyons, Teachers College Press. E-mail:
[email protected]. Diane Martins, PhD., RN, Dr. Martins teaches in undergraduate and graduate courses in community health nursing and practice theory, and lectures on vulnerable older adults and on quantitative methods. Her research and scholarly work is with vulnerable populations in the community and includes a descriptive phenomenological study of the homeless person’s health care experiences, analysis of food insufficiency, and hunger with homeless families, strategies used to survive in the lives of woman facing adversity, and methods to increase nursing students’ knowledge and appreciation with older adults in the community. She is also a faculty member in the HRSA funded interdisciplinary RI Geriatric Education Center where she coordinates the Vulnerable Older Adult group. E-mail:
[email protected]. Joan V. Mast, Ed. D., District Mathematics Supervisor (K-12), Scotch Plains – Fanwood Public Schools, Scotch Plains, NJ 07076, USA. Dr. Mast holds a doctorate from Teachers College, Columbia University. Her research focus includes creating environments in schools where teachers’ individual classrooms are both laboratories for professional learning and the data source for continuous feedback, reflection, and improvement. E-mail:
[email protected]. Marian Murphy is a senior lecturer in Applied Social Studies at University College Cork, Ireland, where she has been Director of the Master’s in Social Work programme. She has published extensively, with her colleagues, on reflective teaching, and learning in social
Contributors
work. She has recently published a book on critical hermeneutics in preventative child welfare. E-mail:
[email protected]. David Ng teaches at the National Institute of Education, Nanyang Technological University, Singapore. Michael Preston teaches at the Columbia University Graduate School of Business, NY, USA. He has over 35 years experience working closely with and advising corporate executives of middle market companies, including family-owned businesses and non-profit organizations. His areas of expertise include leadership, management, strategic planning, organizational structure, and change management. E-mail:
[email protected]. Anne Rath is a teacher educator at University College Cork, Ireland. Her current interests include developmental and transformative models of teaching and learning including critical reflective learning, portfolio development, social and community activism, practitioner and autobiographical inquiry; Feminist teaching; Teaching for Social Justice and Inclusion; Multiple Intelligences Theory and Teaching for Understanding; Multicultural education and educational disadvantage; Professional development and Adult Development; Action Research. E-mail:
[email protected]. Donna Reid is affiliated with the University of Houston and a member of the Houston Portfolio Group since 2000. She has over 18 years experience in the education community as a middle-school teacher, Critical Friends Group coach, and teacher leader. She is a National Facilitator for the National School Reform Faculty and a regular contributor to the NSRF journal, Connections. Mrs. Reid is currently a consultant and doctoral student with a passion for creating and sustaining collaborative, reflective communities of teachers and learners.
[email protected]. Anna Richert is Professor of Education at Mills College, Oakland, CA, USA. E-mail:
[email protected]. Carol Rodgers is associate professor of education in the department of Educational Theory and Practice at University of Albany, State University of New York. Before coming to SUNY Albany in 2000, she has taught for 20 years in the Masters of Arts in Teaching Program at the School for International Training in Brattleboro, VT, USA. E-mail:
[email protected]. Tony Ryan is an Associate Professor in Paediatrics and Child Health, and Consultant Neonatologist at Cork University Maternity Hospital, Cork, Ireland; and Cork University Maternity Hospital and Department of Paediatrics and Child Health, University College Cork, Ireland. E-mail:
[email protected]. Barbara A. Boyt Schell, PhD, OTR, FAOTA is Professor and Graduate Coordinator, Occupational Therapy Department, Brenau University, Gainesville, GA, USA. E-mail:
[email protected]. Steve Seidel is Director of Harvard Project Zero & The Arts In Education Program, Harvard Graduate School of Education, Cambridge, MA, USA. E-mail: steve_seidel@pz. harvard.edu. Angelo Vasalos is at VUniversity, Amsterday, The Netherlands, Institute for Multi-level learning (IML), Amsterdam, The Netherlands. Kenneth M. Zeichner is Boeing Professor of Teacher Education, Director of Teacher Education, University of Washington. E-mail:
[email protected].
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Part I
Reflection and Reflective Inquiry
Chapter 1 opens Part I of the Handbook with a look at reflection and reflective practice in professional life from several perspectives: in the context of the paradoxical contemporary interest in and animated criticism of reflection; through the historical lens of the emergence of professions and professional life in the United States and the rest of the world; and finally, through the works of the three major theorists in the field, John Dewey, Donald Schon, and Paulo Freire, with particular emphasis on their unique contributions to the domain and their own connections with one another in the development of the field. The history of the emergence and growth of the professions seems an especially appropriate opening given our current calamitous times, when the professions are clearly the targets of fierce scorn. As chief executives and major companies with their very existence on the line seek massive aid through government bailouts, the threat of disaster haunts many people worldwide. Never have the professions fallen so low in public regard. But they are still seen as necessities in public life. This paradox is explored in this section and provides an introduction, too, to Part III of the Handbook, a major section for the examination of reflection and reflective practice across several professions, including law, medicine, teacher education, nursing education, social work education, education K-12, adult education, probation services and occupational therapy. An important discussion within the chapter is a review of the life work of John Dewey, Donald Schon, and Paulo Freire who, it is argued, have framed the development of the field. Each is considered in light of a key text, Dewey’s How We Think, Schon’s The Reflective Practitioner, and Freire’s The Pedagogy of the Oppressed. And in an innovative move, the three are looked at in the light of their collective contribution to the field, brought together to offer through their major ideas a more cumulative, interpretive framework. Thus, it is possible to examine reflective practice simultaneously as a mode of thinking (Dewey), a way of knowing (Schon), and as critical reflection (Freire). One of the interesting developments that is uncovered here is the discovery of the connections between the theorists, first identified by Schon himself. In a 1992 article in Curriculum Inquiry, Schon acknowledged his connection to Dewey’s work. Schon first encountered Dewey while doing his doctorate at Harvard University when a friend urged him to read Dewey. Schon says he did not find Dewey interesting, but he did find him unintelligible and so put the book down. But later Schon had a different take and wound up using Dewey’s book, Logic, the Theory of Inquiry as the basis of his own doctoral thesis. He acknowledges that, some 30 years later, as he was working on The Reflective Practitioner, “I realized I was reworking his (Dewey’s ) thesis, his theory of inquiry.” This discovery of an interconnection between Dewey and Schon was repeated by the discovery that several Freire scholars have made in the connection between the ideas of Dewey and Freire. Scholars especially cite both authors’ interest in education and the connection they find between education and the viability of democracy—an interest of increasingly intense concern today.
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Reflection and Reflective Inquiry
Finally, this chapter presents what is called an “interpretive framework,” a linking of the major concepts of each theorist on reflection and reflective practice to form a new interconnected whole. A continuum is revealed with subtle similarities yet different emphases. This, in brief, is what is presented: Theorist Dewey 1910, 1933 Schon 1983 Freire 1970, 1990
An interpretive framework: reflection and reflective inquiry Reflection as inquiry/thinking Mode of thinking/inquiry aware of actions that need to follow Reflection on action as knowing Mode of knowing Reflection in action as knowing Mode of critical consciousness/inquiry Reflection as interrogation of aware of need to investigate, the political, social, cultural interrogate contexts of learning & living
The framework can easily include other theorists. It does offer a way of charting the growth of the field, its major contributors, and hints at the different emphases each might give to its implementation. That is, if the practice of reflection or reflective inquiry should be implemented using one of these frameworks, it will have a special cast of the conceptualization.
Chapter 1
Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Critical Issues, Evolving Conceptualizations, Contemporary Claims and Future Possibilities Nona Lyons
This project has its roots in a paradox. At a time of renewed concern about professional education, when reflective practice is being increasingly endorsed and adopted internationally by a growing number of professions, there is, simultaneously, a persistent questioning of it (Horton 2007; Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching 2009). Professionals decry the lack of an agreed-upon definition, wince at how reflective practice has been made mechanically instrumental, its original intentions diluted and acknowledge the difficulty of operationalizing reflection in order to study it. Yet others insistently proclaim reflective practice as transformative, a necessity of professional life and learning, for developing a knowledge of practice, and for educating wide-awake citizens of a democracy, the outcome of which John Dewey saw as a human being willing and able to engage intelligently and ethically with a changing world, to be a learner from all contacts of life, to the end “of a widening and deepening of conscious life – a more intense, disciplined, and expanding realization of meanings” (Hansen 2006, p. 178; Dewey 1933; see also Boud 2006; Boud et€al. 1996; Brookfield 2005; Hatton and Smith 1994; Mezirow 1990; also Atkins and Murphy 1993; Kim 1999; LaBoskey 1994, 1997; Loughran 2006; Rodgers 2002). As a practitioner and teacher educator of reflective practice inquiry for some 20€years, I take up these contested, sometimes contentious, issues with a decided interest, knowing how my own understanding of reflective inquiry, as well as that of my students, has evolved over time, considerably influenced by international as well as national efforts to study reflection (see Boud et€al. 1996; Calderhead & Gates 1993; Clandinin, 2007; Clift et€al., 1990; Cruickshank 1985; Freire 1977; Grimmet, 1997; Habermas 1973; Hatton and Smith 1994; LaBoskey 1994; Loughran 2006; Schon 1983; Valli 1992; Van Manen 1977; Zeichner 1990; Zeichner and Wray 2001). This chapter of the Handbook has as its objective to bring together a body of scholarship and data on reflection and reflective inquiry for three purposes: 1. To interrogate these renewed contemporary efforts to include reflective inquiry as a critical element in the education of professionals and to ask the reason for this refocus: that is, to examine the claims and criticisms of reflective thinking for professional education and learning today and in the past. This presentation foreshadows, in brief, the more detailed discussions of professions today at the core of this book, for example, of the law, medicine, teacher education, etc.
N. Lyons (*) University College Cork (UCC), Cork, Ireland
N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_1, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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2. To situate contemporary claims and criticisms of reflective inquiry within a historical and theoretical context that can reveal in broad strokes just how reflective inquiry/thinking has been defined, elaborated and practiced over time, and, as it is argued here, subtly reconceptualized, shifting emphases from reflective inquiry as a kind of thinking, to a kind of knowing in action, to critical reflection for the conscious interrogation of the social, cultural and political contexts of learning. These ideas – as a conceptual template – are revealed especially within three major historical strands: one following John Dewey (1933; one, Donald Schon (1983); and a third, that takes up the contemporary work of adult educators in advancing the conception of “critical reflection,” first advocated by Paulo Freire (1970), and currently called for as an imperative by Jack Mezirow (1991), Stephen Brookfield (2005) and educators especially seeking to promote social justice (Oakes and Lipman 2003; Cochran-Smith 2004; Darling-Hammond et€ al. 2002). The conceptual template outlined here, through an examination of the developments of the three theoretical strands, offers a new interpretive framework for understanding reflective inquiry in professional practice and for the construction of a knowledge of practice; and 3. To examine the range of implications for contemporary professional education of incorporating reflective inquiry in order to suggest possibilities that may portend the future of reflection and reflective inquiry – for future theorizing, for conducting research, for practice, and for evolving new meanings and interpretations. I begin with a brief review of the historical roots of professionalism and its connection to reflective inquiry.
Reflective Inquiry for Professional Learning: Introduction The Emergence of the Professional and Professional Education Early in the twentieth century, with the establishment of universities in the United States modeled on European, mostly German research designs, newly organized professional schools began to seek a place within the prestigious research institutions. Following the nineteenth century development in Europe of access to the professions not by family, history or patronage but by education and testing, the professions began to gain control of access to training. A similar pattern emerged in the United States as well. The university was then considered the place to do research that would contribute to new, fundamental knowledge, especially through science. Abraham Flexner’s searing 1910 expose of medical education in the United States and Canada, for example, led to the development of a new model of medical education with an emphasis on the scientific basis of medical practice. To Flexner, the educational program at Johns Hopkins University, then acknowledged as the most pre-eminent American research institution, exemplified the ideal of professional, scientific medical education (Schon 1995, p. 28). Its goals were to transmit knowledge, to impart skills, and to inculcate the right view of the profession. At the core of Flexner’s concern was the notion that formal analytic reasoning should hold pride of place in the intellectual training of physicians (Flexner 1910; Cooke et€al. 2006, p. 1339). By the 1960s, a high point in professionalism was reached when about 13% of the work force was designated as professional. A booming post-war economy had created an enormous demand for professionals. Professional schools were seen as the repositories of a special body of knowledge, along with a system for certifying that individuals had achieved that knowledge, promoting a commitment to the public good and to a professed code of ethics (Bennis and O’Toole 2005, p. 6). A 1963 issue of the journal Daedalus,
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devoted entirely to the professions, declared: “Everywhere in American life, the professions are triumphant.” But a scant 20 years later, by the 1980s, following several professional scandals and the grave miscalculations of the war in Vietnam, Donald Schon detected signs of crisis. “The professions are in the midst of a crisis of confidence and legitimacy….the long-standing professional claim to a monopoly of knowledge and social control is challenged – first, because they do not live up to the values and norms which they espouse, and, second, because they are ineffective” (Schon 1983, p. 11). Professional knowledge and ethical integrity were seriously questioned.
A Deepening Skepticism Today, I believe, a similar but more profound skepticism pervades the value of the professional organization of work. The volatile disasters of the 1990s, especially the world-wide collapse of financial markets in Europe, America, and Asia along with their supposed guardian accountants, left somber questions about the professional claims that the public interest was being served. The eruption of the banking and the home mortgage crisis of the early 2000s only reinforced that questioning. Not only was there a failure to think but a failure in fairness. “The only moral obligation of any enterprise seemed to be to maximize its economic well-being,” claims Andrew Sullivan. Writing about “Markets vs. Professions,” Sullivan sees that the effect of this premise “works to strip away any moral understanding of the relationship between profession and society, or between professional and client” (Sullivan 2005, p. 20). Yet, Sullivan asserts, while revealing a perennial, and now profound, fragility, this simultaneously shows just how important authentic “professional acumen and integrity are to the viability of the marketplace. Professionalism, it turns out, provides a public value essential to modern societies” (Sullivan 2005, p. 19). Philosopher Michael Sandel, discussing a new course he is co-teaching on ethics, economics and the market, argues that “…market reasoning has a tendency to invade spheres of life that should be governed by nonmarket values and ideals” (Simon 2008, p. 13). Others, among them his co-teachers, disagree. Some argue that the problem lies in the split between research knowledge and practice, not just in the split between knowledge and values (Schon 1995, p. 28). For example, Warren Bennis and James O’Toole, writing “How Business Schools Lost Their Way” (2005), argue that business schools have adopted “an inappropriate model of academic excellence, measuring themselves almost solely by the rigor of their scientific research…. But because so little of it is grounded in actual business practices, …the focus…has become increasingly circumscribed and less and less relevant to practitioners” (Bennis and O’Toole 2005, p. 1). They go on to comment on what is needed: Traditionally, business schools have lacked offerings in the humanities. That is a serious shortcoming. As teachers of leadership, we doubt that our topic can be understood properly without solid grounding in the humanities. When the hard-nosed behavioral scientist, James March, taught his famous course at Stanford using War and Peace and other novels as texts, he was emphatically not teaching a literature course. He was drawing on works of imaginative literature to exemplify and explain the behavior of people in business organizations in a way that was richer and more realistic than claimed by any article or textbook.
But these authors believe that reforming business education needs more than humanities courses. “The entire MBA program must be infused with multidisciplinary, practical, and ethical questions and analyses reflecting the complex challenges business leaders face… They should encourage and reward research that illuminates the mysteries and ambiguities of today’s business practices” (Bennis and O’Toole 2005, p. 8). Donald Schon’s concern about professional practice lives on. In this discussion of professional life today, how and why does reflective thinking matter?
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Contemporary Claimants and Critics of Reflective Practice Interrogating contemporary critical claims and the criticisms of reflective inquiry can reveal just what may be involved and at stake today for reflective inquiry in professional education. No doubt, today professional knowledge is acclaimed as highly valued and professionals are considered as desirous knowledge workers (Riehl 2006, p. 26). But, consider anew, for example, contemporary medical education. Recently, Jerome Groopman, author and professor at Harvard Medical School, in his 2007 book How Doctors Think, sought to unravel a medical mystery – how doctors figure out the best treatments – or fail to do so. Studying misdiagnoses, Groopman believes that “many misdiagnoses are the result of readily identifiable – and often preventable – errors in thinking” (Groopman 2007, p. 2). Whereas once, doctors would take part in challenging and detailed debates about the patient they met and examined on rounds, now they “too often failed to question cogently or listen carefully or observe keenly.... Something was profoundly wrong....” with the way they were learning to solve clinical puzzles and care for people (Quoted in Horton 2007, p. 16). Research shows that within minutes of meeting a patient most physicians have two or three possible diagnoses in mind. They tend to develop their diagnoses with relatively incomplete information, relying on “short cuts and rules of thumb – known in psychology as heuristics” (Groopman 2007, p. 2). But although these can sometimes help doctors, they often lead to grave errors. Doctors make errors when they are overly influenced by what is typically true; they fail to consider possibilities that contradict their mental templates of a disease. Doctors can also be influenced by symptoms and illnesses of patients they have just seen. When doctors are confronted with uncertainty – which they are when diagnosing symptoms – they are more likely to make errors. Groopman argues, “What is needed is incorporating into medical education an awareness of these heuristics, and recognizing that the way doctors think can affect their success as much as what they know” (Groopman 2007, p. 6). Some call for implementing even simple reflective techniques. Dr. Antul Gawande suggests “ask an unscripted question” (Quoted in Horton 2007, p. 16). Gawande also identifies three core requirements for success in medicine: diligence, the necessity of giving sufficient attention to detail; the challenge to do it right; and, ingenuity, thinking anew, a matter of character that arises from deliberative, even obsessive reflection (Gawande 2007, p. 9). But such education needs to be wide-spread (Groopman 2007). Recently, the general Medical Council in England underscored the importance of nurturing clinical judgment, critical thinking and reflective practice in medical education for Tomorrow’s Doctors (Maudsley and Strivens 2000, p. 1). A theme emerges: The ideal of professional education subtly shifts focus from knowledge alone to the way one thinks and acts, including engaging in reflective thinking processes for professional practice, and learning and developing necessary character traits. Interestingly, similar arguments have been made for college teachers. Derek Bok (2006), former president of Harvard University, writing in Our Underachieving Colleges, suggests the need to teach undergraduates how to think. He finds that many college students lack critical thinking skills and “many cannot reason clearly or perform competently in analyzing complex, nontechnical problems, even though faculties rank critical thinking as the primary goal of a college education” (Bok 2006, p. 8). Recently, this situation has resulted in unprecedented, to some extent alarming, calls for the assessment of what college students actually learn over their 4 years of study. Leading this accountability movement is former United States’ Education Chief, Secretary Margaret Spellings, who wanted to promote a standardized testing program to determine what college students know similar to the testing connected with the No Child Left Behind Law program (Brint 2008, p. 21). Alternatively, others take a different tack, looking to advance what is called the “greater professionalization” of college teaching.
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Some suggest today, for example, that as part of a tenure file, “college professors would be asked to reflect on their teaching practice and to describe the relationship between their practice and their aims for student learning” (Brint 2008, p. 24). Bok declares that critical inquiry and reflective thinking need to be incorporated into undergraduate education (Bok 2006, p. 9). Why, then, are professionals insisting on reflective inquiry as a valued norm?
Reflective Thinking: A Valued Norm? Recent reform movements in several professions shed light on why they increasingly identify the need for greater emphasis on reflective inquiry in professional education. For example, the current assessment of Educating Lawyers, by the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching, highlights the benefits and the unintended consequences of one standard of legal education, that is, the emphasis on the case study method of legal analysis. The Carnegie Report argues against the iron-clad hold of the case method on legal education, that is, that the method drills students in abstracting from natural contexts the “facts” that can then be subjected to scrutiny of specific rules and procedures. This has the effect of suggesting that to “think like a lawyer” means “redefining messy situations of actual or potential conflicts as opportunities for advancing a client’s cause through legal argument .... By contrast, the task of connecting these conclusions with the rich complexity of actual situations, let€alone the job of thinking through the social consequences or ethical aspects of the conclusions remain outside the case–dialogue method.” As one report avers, an instructor turned aside a student question about whether something was fair in a legal decision under discussion. The instructor informed the student that the student was there to learn the law, and not to learn what was fair. The Carnegie report concludes, “Students need opportunities to learn about, reflect on and practice the responsibilities of legal professionals” (Sullivan et€al. 2007, p. 6). The education of lawyers is missing a valued perspective, in this case, the way of framing what it is to think like a lawyer, a perspective which is necessary to the reform and continued ethical vitality of the profession, and perceived through reflecting on and engaging in responsibilities of professionals. As one critic has argued that, instead of being introduced to the law as a deeply human activity that itself involves a search for meaning and values, law students actually experience law school as an alienating trade school. The law and medicine are not alone in making this argument. In a parallel study of doctoral education, The Formation of Scholars, the Carnegie Foundation draws attention to the broader concerns in the education of many professionals. “The profession of the scholar requires specialized, even esoteric knowledge. But it also entails a larger set of obligations and commitments that are not only intellectual but moral” (Walker et€al. 2007, p. 4). In particular, this report focuses on the role of the learner. Stating that the most interesting findings from this research project point to what happens when doctoral students are given more agency and responsibility: “whether by using new tools such as portfolios for documenting and reflecting on their progress; by serving as mentors to one another; by pursuing connections between research and teaching; or by participating in departmental deliberations about the structure and effectiveness of their own doctoral program” (Walker et€ al. 2007, p. 4). A companion Carnegie study, A New Agenda for Higher Education, urges faculties themselves to engage in reflective deliberations in order to address fundamental questions of their purposes and practices to improve higher education (Sullivan et€al. 2007, p. 4). A Human Resource Development educator suggests that in order to develop ethical practice as a reflective practitioner, one must extend one’s understanding of reflective learning.
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Cornell West, author and professor of religion at Princeton University, writing of The Crisis in Theological Education (1988), presents a critique of the current condition in American seminaries and divinity schools, to suggest that a major reason for the crisis is that faculties “teach as they do with little reflection or consultation about what they do, why they teach what they do, and whether what they teach aids their students in preparation for Christian ministry.” West believes that “there must be a loosening of the strangle-hold that the eighteenth century German ‘theological encyclopedia’ movement has on the theological curriculum, exalting theology as the queen discipline before which biblical studies, church history, and practical matters must intellectually genuflect” (Quoted in Dyson 1989, p. 2). Reflective inquiry, then, can reveal important valued benefits at the core of professional education and learning: uncovering needed perspectives; identifying critical moral and ethical dimensions of practice; encouraging collaborative inquiries; deliberating about underlying professional purposes and possibilities – all valued aspects of professional education that might otherwise be missed if reflective inquiry were lacking, not endorsed and practiced. Lee Shulman refers to three fundamental dimensions of professional work – to think, to perform, and to act with integrity (Shulman 2005, p. 52). Several endorse reflective inquiry as making these goals possible.
But What Is Reflective Inquiry? While the assertions of the benefits of reflective inquiry are impressive, pointing to necessary refinements for the education and development of professionals, critics simultaneously reveal considerable issues that need to be addressed. They pose trenchant criticisms of reflection and reflective inquiry within a profession. Take, for example, the case of teacher education, a field which, early on in the 1980s, with the publication of Donald Schon’s Reflective Practitioner, immediately and widely endorsed reflective practice. In 1999, Ken Zeichner, respected researcher and teacher educator, tracing the history of teacher education in the US found that it was not uncommon to have research on teacher education described as random, chaotic, and directionless. Teacher thinking – never mind reflection – had only recently been deemed a subject that needed to be examined. It was first addressed in 1986 in the Handbook of Research on Teaching (Zeichner 1999). However, in the 2005 report of the American Educational Research Association (AERA) Panel on Research and Teacher Education, the first effort of its kind commissioned by AERA, reflection and reflective thinking did not merit more than a few pages of discussion in the 800 page document. The AERA (2005) report charged that the subject of reflective inquiry, like so many in education research, lacked rigorous, systematic investigation, and thus, there existed few studies to validate its claims or to include in a report. Teacher educator Carol Rodgers puts it succinctly for teacher education: For the last 10–15€years, numerous boards and local school districts have identified reflective inquiry as a standard towards which all teachers and students must strive. Although the cry for accomplishment in systematic reflective thinking is clear, it is more difficult to distinguish what systematic reflective thinking is (Rodgers 2002, p. 842; see also Ghaye 2000; Zeichner and Wray 2001).
Rodgers’ goes on to identify four problems associated with the lack of a common definition of reflection: It is unclear how systematic reflection is different from other types of thought; it is difficult to assess a skill that is vaguely defined; without a clear picture ... .it has lost its ability to be seen and therefore has begun to lose its value. And finally, it is difficult to research the effects of reflective teaching and professional development on teachers’ practice and students’ learning (Rodgers 2002, p. 842).
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Rodgers work and question, What is reflective thinking?, has stimulated a reconsideration of John Dewey, America’s most renowned philosopher of education and of reflective thinking, and his classic work on inquiry, How We Think. Here, I turn to that text to examine, however briefly, Dewey’s insights and the rich direction of his thought in addressing the role of reflective inquiry in education. Later, I want to consider as well, Donald Schon and his text, The Reflective Practitioner, with its links to John Dewey, especially Dewey’s ideas of reflective inquiry, along with the work of critical theorists, especially Paulo Freire. Dewey, a prolific writer who published almost incessantly on a myriad of topics of public interest over the course of a long life, addressed reflective inquiry in several of his books, including Democrary and Education, Logic: A Theory of Inquiry, and How We Think. Often found difficult to read, especially because of his use of language, Dewey is defended today by many who argue that this is because Dewey is trying to articulate new ideas, ones he is at pains to articulate and ones at odds with the then prevalent wisdom. Some believe that Dewey himself remained unclear about some of his most basic concepts, not pinpointing clearly what he meant – even such concepts as experience and inquiry (Dworkin 1959; Ryan 1995). Dewey lived and wrote in tumultuous times in the US following the bloody Civil War and on the eve of transforming scientific discoveries, including Darwin’s theory of evolution. Dewey scholars acknowledge that he was profoundly influenced by Darwin and saw modern life as embedded in the turmoil of constant change, not in fixity or stability. Change rather than stability was the reality Darwin proclaimed. Dewey came to believe that a scientific habit of mind was one way to address change. Next, I examine Dewey’s How We Think to identify both its strengths and weaknesses, but mostly to ponder what Dewey sought to convey and why reflective thinking has such staying power, according to him.
Reflective Inquiry in Theoretical Perspective: The Theorists of Reflective Inquiry Contribute to an Interpretive Template Introduction This section of the chapter takes up the work of some of the theorists of reflective practice to trace its evolution over three major developments that, it is argued, can provide an interpretive framework for reflective inquiry and its practice. While in the past these three theorists have clearly been claimed individually as sources of reflective practice, here they are deliberately linked making possible the idea of the interconnection, each having its own characteristic features, yet possible to be connected to make a new whole. These individual features are identified: (1) reflective inquiry as a kind of thinking, of how we think (Dewey 1933); (2) reflective practice as a kind of knowing through and in the actions of our actual professional practices (Schon); and (3) reflective inquiry as critical interrogation of the social and political contexts of learning for the promotion of critical reflective consciousness (Freire). The later takes as its premise, Paulo Freire’s belief that there is no such thing as a neutral, uncommitted and apolitical education practice. Thus, contexts, political and social as well as cultural, must be seriously interrogated by students and their teachers. The three developments of reflective inquiry trace particular definitions and interpretations that have shaped practice as well as research and theory, and continue to do so, out of which I construct an interpretive template for use today, a template to locate conceptualizations and practices.
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John Dewey, How We Think: A Restatement of the Relation of Reflective Thinking to the Educative Process “While we cannot learn or be taught to think, we do have to learn how to think well, especially how to acquire the general habits of reflecting” (Dewey 1933, p. 35).
If we were to ask what John Dewey’s How We Think is, we have Dewey’s simple assertion in his title: It is a “restatement of the relation of reflective thinking to the educative process.” Dewey is referencing his original How We Think text published in 1910, which in 1933 had just been revised with “a considerable expansion and clearness of statement.” The 1910 version had become the bible of those who came to be called Progressive educators. This version revealed the important problem that Dewey claimed shaped his purposes for the book. In the 1910 preface, Dewey wrote: Our schools are troubled with the multiplication of studies, each in turn having its own multiplication of materials and principles. Our teachers find their tasks made heavier in that they have come to deal with pupils individually and not merely in mass. Unless these steps are to end in distraction, some clew of unity, some principle that makes for simplification, must be found. This book represents the conviction that the needed steadying and centralizing factor is found in adopting as the end of endeavor that attitude of mind, that habit of thought, which we call scientific. This scientific attitude of mind might, conceivably, be quite irrelevant to teaching children and youth. But this book also represents the conviction that such is not the case; that the native and unspoiled attitude of childhood, marked by ardent curiosity, fertile imagination, and love of experimental inquiry, is near, very near, to the attitude of the scientific mind. If these pages assist any to appreciate this kinship ... , the book will amply have served its purpose (Dewey 1909 in Boydston et€al. 1986, p. 109).
Published 6 years after Dewey left Chicago for Columbia University, the revised How We Think is considered to be part of Dewey’s “mature idiom,” an achievement of the rich work he had already undertaken at the University of Chicago, including the establishment of the experimental Laboratory School (Ryan 1995, p. 142). Dewey had gained a national reputation not only as a philosopher, but also as an innovator in education, a progressive era reformer – a reputation he held for half a century (Hickman and Alexander 1998, p. ix). For Dewey, philosophy and education were intertwined. Dewey in fact defined philosophy as a theory of education, a view still shocking to some philosophers. Philosophy is “defined as another name for the generalized theory of education ...as a deliberately conducted practice” (Dewey 1916, pp. 331–332). In his preface to How We Think, Dewey cites his indebtedness to others for expanding his ideas of practice, but primarily to his wife, Alice Chipman Dewey, who in large part designed and ran the Laboratory school: “My fundamental indebtedness is to my wife, by whom the ideas of this book were inspired, and through whose work in connection with the Laboratory School, existing in Chicago between 1896 and 1903, the ideas attained such concreteness as comes from embodiment and testing in practice” (Dewey 1933, p. xxi). In the preface to How We Think, Dewey points to several important aspects of his work on reflective inquiry. It is directed to education and student learning; rooted in his belief in inquiry/thinking as a scientific method, that is, one not tied historically to custom or tradition, to authority or a hierarchy, or to a belief, but to evidence of a lived experience; and, achieved through experimentation and investigation in practice, by those acting in the world in real situations. How We Think was first addressed to the education of students of logic, yet constitutes one of Dewey’s major iterations of reflective inquiry addressed to all teachers and students. It eschews the use of the then popular pedagogy of recitation for the more challenging task of catching a child’s attention and curiosity and engaging her or him in investigation. It is considered to have brought about a revolution in education. “The initial publication in 1910 had revolutionized American educational theory by presenting a practical approach to thought processes for students in elementary logic courses .... [but the book]
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outlined a problem-solving process that would train students to be critical consumers of discourse, with an emphasis on the psychology of the thought process and logical argumentation” (Boydston et€ al. 1986, p. 387). One of Dewey’s students of philosophy at Chicago, Wesley Clair Mitchell, believed that Dewey took as his subject, the human mind. “Every one of Dewey’s courses dealt with the same problem,” he recalled, “how we think” (Antler 1987, p. 120).
The Challenge of Learning Is Learning to Think For Dewey, the challenge of learning was learning to think. “ ... it is evident that education ... is vitally concerned with cultivating the attitude of reflective thinking, preserving it where it already exists, and changing looser methods of thought into stricter ones whenever possible. Of course education is not exhausted in its intellectual aspect; there are practical attitudes of efficiency to be formed, moral dispositions to be strengthened and developed, aesthetic appreciations to be cultivated. But in all these things there is at least an element of conscious meaning and hence thought. Otherwise, practical activity is mechanical and routine, morals are blind and arbitrary, and aesthetic appreciation is sentimental gush. In what follows we shall confine ourselves, however, to the intellectual side. We state emphatically that, upon its intellectual side education consists in the formation of wide-awake, careful, thorough habits of thinking.” (Dewey 1933, p. 78; emphasis added).
Dewey links his theme to his larger vision of education: reflective thinking is, ought to be, an aim of education: its methods refined and connected with moral dispositions and aesthetic concerns and its purpose, to make possible conscious meaning. But how did he define habits of thinking?
Critical Tenets: What Reflective Thinking Is and Is Not The text of How We Think is divided into three major parts. The first is devoted to thought and thinking, that is, reflective thinking and “The Problem of Training Thought.” The second part, “Logical Considerations,” is addressed mainly to logic and logicians; the third considers “The Training of Thought” directed to teachers. Dewey’s starting point describes reflective thought or inquiry – as Dewey preferred to call it – as “the kind of thinking that consists in turning a subject over in the mind and giving it serious and consecutive consideration.” Dewey contrasts this with his cautions about what inquiry is not. It is “not ... ‘just mulling things over,” a common, popular definition of reflective thinking. In addition, Dewey distinguished reflective inquiry from several other mental processes: from stream of consciousness, uncontrolled coursing of ideas through our heads; from mental pictures of something not present; and, from belief, simply an assertion about some matter of fact or principle or law. For Dewey, inquiry is “active, persistent, and careful consideration of any belief or supposed form of knowledge in the light of the grounds that support it and the further conclusions to which it tends [that] constitutes reflective thought” (Dewey 1933, pp. 3–16). And it applies to all kinds of everyday thinking. Take an example that Dewey uses: of suddenly remembering an appointment previously made with little time to get to the agreed-upon meeting place. So the questions: What is to be done? Do you walk rapidly, take the elevated train or hop the subway? This simple, common problem can exemplify reflective inquiry.
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Reflective Thinking Starts with a Situation of Doubt, a Puzzle The function of reflective thought, for Dewey, is to transform a situation “in which there is experienced obscurity, doubt, conflict, disturbance of some sort, into a situation that is clear, coherent, settled, harmonious” (Dewey 1933, p. 100). Thus reflective thinking, Dewey believed, had two limits: “a perplexed, troubled, or confused situation at the beginning and a cleared-up, unified, resolved situation at the close. The first of these situations may be called pre-reflective. It sets up the problem to be solved; out of it grows the question that reflection has to answer. In the final situation, the doubt has been dispelled; the situation is post-reflective” (Dewey 1933, pp. 106–107). But Dewey saw that it was the situation, specific and doubtful, that precipitated reflection. “Unless there is something doubtful, the situation is read off at a glance; it is taken in on sight… But if it suggests, however vaguely, different meanings, rival possible interpretations, there is some point at issue, some matter at stake,” Dewey insists, “We are doubtful because the situation is inherently doubtful. Inquiry begins with the inherently doubtful – with the confusing, obscure or conflictual situation” (Dewey 1993, p. 121). “The inquirer does not stand outside the situation like a spectator; he is in it and in transaction with it.” (Schon 1992, p. 122). Inquiry is situational, open-ended, and social. It is the puzzling situation that evokes thinking as it does for children, with their discovery of the puzzle; as it does for a scientist, looking to uncover the cause of a disease. I believe Dewey made three important contributions to understanding and engaging in reflective inquiry: his understanding of the role of the doubtful, conflictual situation as the cause of reflective thinking, his identification of the actual phases of reflective thought, and his identification of the necessity of adopting attitudes that were the actual methods of inquiry.
The Five or Six? Phases of Reflective Thought Dewey suggests five phases, or aspects of reflective thought: “In between, as states of thinking, are (1) suggestions, in which the mind leaps forward to a possible solution; (2) an intellectualization of the difficulty or perplexity that has been felt (directly experienced) into a problem to be solved, a question for which the answer must be sought; (3) the use of one suggestion after another as a leading idea, or hypothesis, to initiate and guide observation and other operations in the collection of factual material; (4) the mental elaboration of the idea or supposition as an idea or supposition (reasoning, in the sense in which reasoning is a part, not the whole of inference); and (5) testing the hypothesis by overt or imaginative action (Dewey 1933, p. 107).” Dewey did not believe that there was a strict order to these phases. They were likely to be more fluid. And he did say, that the actual action that followed the testing of hypotheses probably ought to be a sixth phase. But how is this to be achieved?
Knowledge Alone Is Not Enough: Attitudes Matter: They Comprise the Method of Inquiry Dewey believed that knowledge of phases alone is not enough, will not suffice: “there must be the desire, the will, to employ them. This is an affair of personal disposition. But on the other hand the disposition alone will not suffice. There must be understanding of the forms and techniques that are the channels through which these attitudes operate to best advantage”
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(Dewey 1933, p. 30). How does reflective thinking operate? How do attitudes matter? Dewey identified three attitudes, and later a fourth, that needed to be cultivated to engage in inquiry: Open-mindedness – defined as freedom from prejudice, partisanship, and such other habits as close the mind and make it unwilling to consider new problems and entertain new ideas: It includes an active, empathic desire to listen to more sides than one; to give heed to facts; to give full attention to alternative possibilities. Whole-heartedness – defined as when someone takes up a project with a whole heart, and undivided interest; and, Responsibility – defined as considering the consequences of what one has learned. The irresponsible refuse to acknowledge the consequences, the meaning of what they have learned from their beliefs and actions. Finally, Dewey added directness, a fourth attitude. By directness he implies faith in human action, that is, belief that something is worth doing; the act of addressing a problem rather than being resigned to it. Importantly, for Dewey, these attitudes are the means of acquiring a reflective attitude of mind; they constitute in effect the method/s of engaging in inquiry (Dewey 1933, 1916, pp. 27–33).
Dewey’s Legacy Dewey’s How We Think has remained a standard text, steadily claiming a place in education, even as Dewey’s own reputation declined following his death in 1952. While some critics declared the book too single-minded, too overly simple, others applauded it for just those virtues (Ryan 1995, p. 142). In 1999, it was acclaimed as one of the ten great books of the twentieth century for social studies education (The Social Studies, 1999, p. 13). It is also the case that Dewey’s influence was never likely to be as great as his critics or his defenders claimed. Alan Ryan, a Dewey biographer, points to three important reasons why: (1) Dewey schools were expensive. They needed small classes, good equipment, time for teachers to attend to their students; (2) The school was demanding of its teachers, needing teachers trained to encourage the experimentation constantly needed; and (3) it was never precisely clear what, according to Dewey, were the characteristic features of a Dewey school and its administration. Lawrence Cremin believed that Dewey’s progressive education could not be sustained – it did not have the teachers who had the time and ability to do it (Cremin 1961, p. 348). But Dewey did outline how to think about how we think and how to scaffold its development. While John Dewey is an acknowledged master theorist of reflective thinking, it is Donald Schon who drew wide-spread attention to it in the 1980s, long after some had put it aside. Here, I examine Schon’s connection to Dewey; the significance of his research studies of how professionals know in practice; and, his perspective on the importance of the epistemologies of institutions, that is, how organizations support and promote certain ways of knowing, and what counts as knowledge or does not. All of this constitutes a second strand in the development of an interpretive template of reflective inquiry.
Donald Schon, The Reflective Practitioner: How Professionals Think in Action “We are in need of inquiry into the epistemology of practice. What is the kind of knowing in which competent practitioners engage? How is professional knowing like and unlike the kinds of knowing in academic textbooks, scientific papers and journals” (Schon 1983, p. vii).
Many educators of professionals can recall the satisfying excitement caused by the Â�publication of Donald Schon’s 1983 book, The Reflective Practitioner: How Professionals
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Think in Action. Schon wrote from a deep uneasiness with the question of the relationship between the kinds of knowledge honored in the academy and the kinds of competence valued in professional practice. To him they were out of sync. Convinced that the “universities are, for the most part, institutions committed to a particular epistemology, a view of knowledge that fosters selective inattention to practical competence and professional artistry,” Schon wanted to engage in a close examination of what practitioners – architects, psychotherapists, engineers, planners, managers, etc. – actually do in practice (Schon 1983, p. vii). He assumed that competent practitioners usually know more than they can say. They exhibit a kind of knowing in their practice. Practitioners often reveal a capacity for reflection on their intuitive knowing in the midst of action that he believed made that knowing conscious and available for action. Schon’s goal in his book was to explore the distinctive structure of reflection in action. Schon’s work launched unprecedented interest in reflective practice, revised curiosity about the earlier work of John Dewey on reflective inquiry, and erupted in widespread experimentation with reflection for many professional practitioners – that continues till today. Schon was concerned with how professionals think on their feet, that is, how they reflect in action and on actions and how that contributes to doing and acting as a professional. Schon (1930–1997), who studied and taught philosophy, came to know Dewey well. He has acknowledged just how much Dewey’s ideas influenced his own. Schon did his doctoral dissertation on Dewey’s theory of inquiry. He tells of his first response to Dewey and his later re-evaluation. In the 1950s, Schon was a graduate student at Harvard, and a friend urged him to read Dewey. But when he tried, “I found him muddy and unintelligible. Later on – I am not sure how – I saw that Dewey’s was a generative muddiness: he was trying to say new things that were bound to seem muddy …Dewey’s Logic: The Theory of Inquiry, which I took as the basis for my doctoral thesis, was the book that changed my mind about Dewey.” Some 30 years later Schon tells us, in the midst of writing The Reflective Practitioner, “I realized that I was reworking that thesis, now on the basis of empirical studies of professional practice. I was attempting, in effect, to make my own version of Dewey’s theory of inquiry, taking ‘reflective practice’ as my version of Dewey’s ‘reflective thought’ ”(Schon 1992, p. 123).
The Reflective Practitioner launched Schon into his work on reflection for professional knowing and learning. Later he branched into studies of organizational learning and innovation in collaboration with Chris Argyris. Similar to some of today’s proponents of professional development, Schon became consumed with a special problem of professional learning, that is, the place of practice within it. Eschewing dualisms, as did Dewey, Schon saw that professional practice was re-enforcing a serious dualism: theory versus practice.
What is the Kind of Knowing that Competent Professionals Engage In? Convinced that “institutions are committed for the most part to a particular epistemology, a view of knowledge that fosters selective inattention to practical competence and professional artistry,” (Schon 1983, p. vii). Schon believed that, “We are in need of inquiry into the epistemology of practice. What is the kind of knowing in which competent practitioners engage? How is professional knowing like and unlike the kinds of knowledge presented in academic textbooks, scientific papers and learned journals? In what sense, if any, is there intellectual rigor in professional practice?” (Schon 1983, p. viii). It was Schon’s plan to present a set of case studies of professionals in practice, especially of how senior practitioners help junior ones learn how to do something. Schon’s Reflective Practitioner is divided into three parts: Part I is a discussion of professional knowledge and reflection in action; Part II introduces “Professional Contexts for Reflection-in-action;” Schon’s case studies; and Part III, the conclusion, especially addresses “Implications for the Professions.”
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Schon believed that practice was not a mechanical, inconsequential activity, the mere application of a positivist idea of applying knowledge gained through research to the problems of practice. Rather, he was concerned about understanding how professionals know through practice. Schon thought most competent practitioners know more than they can say, and exhibit a kind of tacit knowing (Polanyi 1966). That is, they exhibit a kind of knowing-in-practice, and they can reveal a kind of capacity to reflect on their knowing in the midst of action. Schon’s book was designed to examine this phenomenon, of knowing in action – of psychiatrists, engineers, planners and managers He also explored a retrospective knowing on action. For Schon, “people show themselves to be knowledgeable in a special way. Often we cannot say what it is we know.” But, “on the other hand, ordinary people and professional practitioners often think about what they are doing, sometimes while they are doing it. Stimulated by surprise, they turn back on action and on knowing, which is implicit in action. They may ask, What features do I notice when I recognize this thing? What are the criteria by which I make this judgment? How am I framing this problem? As [the practitioner] tries to make sense, he also reflects on the understandings which have been implicit in his [prior] understandings” (Schon 1983, pp. 49–52). Schon identified this kind of thinking as reflection on knowing in action. Schon believed that this kind of thinking occurred especially in situations of uncertainty, where there is some puzzle, some uncertainty or conflict – similar to Dewey’s concept of the precipitating idea of the puzzle in a situation. He also believed that all professional practice is concerned with what he called design – that is, changing existing situations into preferred ones. The task for the professional was to know how to frame the problem, not even to solve it but to frame, it so it could be solved. “The task is not the application of knowledge as “the development of knowledge in action. Knowing, learning, and theorizing takes place while the practitioner is creating. A form of hypothesizing and ad hoc experimentation is part of the process as the practitioner seeks the framework that will simultaneously define and solve the problem” (DeNeufville 1984, p. 88). In the traditional hierarchy, basic research is superior to applied practice. Schon’s argument, however, “ suggests that the practitioner’s task is the more complex, requiring theorizing and deductive capabilities as well as great imagination and flexibility” (DeNeufville 1984, p. 88).
Schon’s Legacy Schon made several important contributions: in identifying reflection on knowing in action, and reflection on action, a separate activity. In addition, his identification of the role of contexts, especially of the epistemology of institutional contexts that support or disconfirm ways of knowing, helped to place practitioner research in the spotlight. It also helped to reveal just what might be at stake if practitioners really engaged in research on their own practice – as was implied in Boyer’s (1990) important ideas for a scholarship of teaching (Boyer 1990). In 1990, Ernest Boyer, the head of the Carnegie Corporation for the Advancement of Teaching, published his book, Scholarship Reconsidered. In it, he made a bold assertion: That there was needed in the academy, new forms of scholarship beyond the traditional, the scholarship of discovery. He identified three new forms including a scholarship of teaching, a scholarship that would contribute to a knowledge of teaching and transform and extend it. Boyer’s work launched a series of investigations into all kinds of teaching, such as scholarship. But it was Schon who correctly articulated that if there was to be a true scholarship of teaching, carried out by teachers themselves, as it would need to be, questions would
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be raised: What kind of knowledge was this? Was it valid within the framework of the epistemology of the university? What is the validity of practitioner knowledge in a positivistic world? Schon foresaw a battle, that was going on even then in 1995, but he called it a battle of snails, so slow was the pace (Schon 1995). In sum, Schon, who began with case studies of some five professions, brought the rapid discussion and adoption of reflecting on practice to the attention of many professionals and encouraged their explorations. He helped to support a new scholarship of teaching. It was the next generation of scholars who helped to push reflective inquiry into a more complex role. Paulo Freire, Jack Mezirow, and David Brookfield saw more radical necessities for reflective inquiry – that is, the very transformation of the world.
Paulo Freire, Pedagogy of the Oppressed “It seems fundamental to me to clarify at the beginning that a neutral, uncommitted, and apolitical education practice does not exist” (Freire 1970, 1997).
Paulo Freire, the Brazilian educator, banished from his country after he had created a new way for teaching impoverished illiterates to read and write, and to look critically at the social situation in which they found themselves, identified this process as critical reflection, or critical consciousness, by which he believed learners “achieve a deepening awareness of both the sociocultural reality which shapes their lives and of their capacity to transform that reality through action upon it” (Freire 1970, p. 27). Freire tells us that he believed the central problem is this: “How can the oppressed, as divided, unauthentic beings, participate in developing the pedagogy of their liberation?....The solution cannot be achieved in idealistic terms. In order for the oppressed to be able to wage the struggle for their liberation, they must perceive the reality of oppression not as a closed world from which there is no exit, but as a limiting situation which they can transform...it must become the motivating force for liberating action” (Freire 1997, p. 31). Freire’s book, Pedagogy of the Oppressed, was first published in 1970. It has come to influence the idea of reflection to incorporate this notion of critical reflection. Paulo Freire was born in Recife, Brazil, and shared the experience of poverty and hunger, growing up in the Great Depression of the 1930s. Educated in Brazil in the law, philosophy and psychology of language, he worked as a teacher, married a teacher, and spent his life as a champion of the poor. In the 1940s, he was appointed Director of the Department of Education and Culture of the Social Service in the State of Pernambuco, Brazil, where he worked primarily among the illiterate poor. Embracing a form of liberation theology, he began to address illiteracy. In Brazil, literacy was a requirement for voting in presidential elections. In 1961, to test his developing theories of teaching, Freire, as director of the Department of Cultural Extension, University of Recife initiated a program to teach 300 sugarcane workers to read and write in just 45€ days. His success launched government approval of the creation of cultural circles and reading programs across the country. Freire had insisted on substitute words to describe education: schools were what he called “cultural circles.” Instead of a teacher, he substituted coordinator; instead of lectures, he had dialogues; instead of pupils, group participants (Freire 1990, pp. 41–44). But a military coup in 1964 put an end to these efforts. Freire was imprisoned as a traitor, and later banished from Brazil. He left to work in other Latin American countries and eventually, for the United Nations. In 1970, the publication of his book brought an invitation of a visiting professorship at Harvard University. Later he was special education advisor to the World Council of Churches. Eventually, Freire returned to Brazil as Secretary of Education for Sao Paulo.
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The Text: Pedagogy of the Oppressed Paulo Freire states directly his purpose of this book, a subtle and according to some, revolutionary way of considering the teaching of reading and of conceptualizing pedagogy: This book will present some aspects of what the writer has termed the pedagogy of the oppressed, a pedagogy which must be forged with, not for, the oppressed (whether individuals or peoples) in the incessant struggle to regain their humanity. This pedagogy makes oppression and its causes objects of reflection, by the oppressed, and from that reflection will come their necessary engagement in the struggle for their liberation. And in the struggle this pedagogy will be made and remade (Freire 1997, p. 30).
Freire’s book opens with a preface: this personal perspective on how his experiences have led him to his notions of a pedagogy of the oppressed. The book he divides into four chapters: The first elaborates his justification for a pedagogy of the oppressed; “the contradiction between oppressors and oppressed, and how it is overcome: liberation is not a gift, not a self-achievement but a mutual process” (Freire 1997). Chapter 2 deals with several things: with the idea of conception of education as an instrument of oppression and its opposite, the problem-posing concept of education is an instrument of liberation; the student teacher relationship; and, critical pedagogy. At the center of this chapter is Freire’s concern with the banking conception of education, one that views the student teacher relationship as narrative in character; the teacher is the narrating subject; the student the patient listening one who takes in the narration. “Education then becomes an act of depositing, in which the students are depositories and the teacher the depositor. This is the banking concept of education, in which the scope of action allowed to the students extends only as far as receiving, filing, and storing the deposits” (Freire 1997, pp. 52–53). Freire is concerned that, in the last analysis, it is the people who are filed away through lack of knowledge, creativity or transformation. What is necessary is critical pedagogy and a view of the student–teacher relationship. This was an especially important subject for Freire. He wanted to see the relationship as one of mutuality and reciprocity, similar to Dewey’s deep concerns. Chapter 3 of Freire’s book is focused on the radical idea of attempting to extend the meaning of reflection in the processes of dialogue and the role of reflection. “Within the word we find two dimensions, reflection and action, in such radical interaction that if one is sacrificed – even in part – the other immediately suffers. There is no true word that is not at the same time a praxis. Thus to speak a true word is to transform the world” (Freire 1997). To Freire, human beings can neither remain silent nor be satisfied with false words. Their very existence requires naming the world, and renaming it if required. Human beings are not meant to be silent but to work, in words in action–reflection. When words are deprived of the dimension of action, reflection automatically suffers as well. Then “the word is changed into idle chatter, into verbalism, into an alienated and alienating ‘blah’” (Freire 1997, p. 68). The final chapter of this book deals with analyses of theories of cultural action. It is an elaboration of several points presented in the earlier chapters. It reaffirms: “human activity consists of action and reflection; it is praxis; it is transformation of the world. And as praxis, it requires theory to illuminate it. Human activity is theory and practice; it is reflection and action” (Freire 1997, p. 106). Paulo Freire, who died on May 2, 1997, transformed ideas of education in the hope of the transformation of the world. He made it apparent that neutral, uncommitted, apolitical education practice does not exist. Now contexts of living and learning had to come under scrutiny, including political, social and cultural contexts. These ideas put in place a new concept of critical, transforming reflection. They were to flower in the work of Jack Mezirow and several other present day theorists. In this section of the chapter, we examine briefly the legacy of critical reflection.
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The Freirean Legacy of Critical Reflection The legacy of Paulo Freire connects with a stream of practitioners who, like Freire, cannot disconnect the larger contexts of practice from careful interrogation. These practitioners, while coming to their particular educational practice, join in the important premises Freire identified: that education practice is not neutral, uncommitted and apolitical. Perhaps that is why adult educator, Stephen Brookfield, sees a red flag of caution when confronting the very words “critical reflection.” He finds problematic the tendency to conflate reflection and critical reflection, as if, as he says, both mean roughly the same thing. Brookfield considers that reflection by definition is not critical. He sees that it is possible to practice reflection and leave unquestioned the criteria of the power dynamics at work that frame the field of practice. Critical reflection calls into question the power relationships that allow or promote a set of practices. This is why Freire considers uncovering these to be a step towards fighting to disrupt them. The powerful exploration of assumptions is a beginning of this process. Jack Mezirow comes at reflective inquiry historically from his interest in adult learning and education. He is especially concerned about the assumptions and habits that can distort adult thinking. He has developed strategies for teaching the way to reflect on and understand these assumptions that shape lives and experiences. Writing about “Making Meaning through Reflection,” he suggests that that entails becoming conscious of living in history. For Mezirow, reflection “is the central dynamic in intentional learning, problem solving, and validity testing through rational discourse. Intentional learning centrally involves either the explication of meaning of an experience, reinterpretation of that meaning, or application of it in thoughtful action” (Mezirow et€al. 1991, p. 99). Mezirow’s major concern is that “there has been an egregious disregard for the function of reflection,” to the detriment of problem solving and validating what it is that has been learned (see also Kasl and Yorks 2002).
Moving from Theory to Practice: Teaching for Social Justice But Freire’s legacy is not without critics. Some argue that few accounts are provided as to how teachers are to move from critical thought to practice, an especially critical problem for those who seek to teach for social justice. Teachers and teacher educators increasingly suppose that the reason why teaching for social justice must/ought to be a goal of education. Following in the footpaths of John Dewey, but especially of Paulo Freire, these teachers see the necessity of this move if all children are to be served in America’s and the world’s schools. But how does teaching for social justice incorporate a Freirean vision? A review of some arguments for teaching for social justice by teacher educators reveal elements of Freire’s ideal. Marilyn Cochran-Smith considers that in today’s testing, conscious political climate of education, teacher education for social justice is understood as a learning problem, and that teachers are initiated into the discourses of teaching and learning through generative inquiry-based processes that invite them to link the specifics of particular students and classrooms to bigger educational ideas and frameworks, rather than through scripted lessons and activities that require them – as do the regulations of the No Child Left Behind Law – to fit their students and classrooms into predetermined slots (Cochran-Smith 2004, p. 15). Experienced teacher educators. Jeannie Oakes and Martin Lipman write: “We define a social justice perspective on education as one that does three things: (1) It considers the values and politics that pervade education, as well as the more technical issues of teaching and organizing schools; (2) It asks critical questions about how conventional thinking and practice came to be, and who in society benefits from them; and (3) It pays attention to inequalities associated with race, social
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class, language, gender, and other social categories, and looks for alternatives to the inequalities.” (Oakes and Lippman 2003). Linda Darling Hammond writes, “Learning to teach for social justice is a lifelong undertaking. It involves coming to understand oneself in relation to others, examining how society constructs privilege and inequality and how this affects one’s own opportunities as well as those of others; exploring the experiences of others and appreciating how those inform world views, perspectives, and opportunities ; and evaluating how schools and classrooms operate and can be structured to value diverse human experience and to enable learning for all students.” Darling-Hammond avers that “this kind of pedagogy demands knowledge about how different children learn but also how to bring about change in institutions and all the political skills that entails. But it is only this kind of knowledge and skill that can bring about critical change” (Darling-Hammond et€al. 2002, pp. 201–202).
Implications of the Theoretical Developments of Reflective Inquiry: A Template for Interpretation The delineations of reflection and reflective inquiry identified in this chapter by the work of Dewey, Schon, and Freire, reveal critical characteristics, that can suggest objectives for teaching or implementing reflective inquiry, and implications for interpretation. Theoretical Development of Reflective Inquiry: An Interpretive Framework Theorist Characterization Implications Dewey (1933) what is reflective Reflective inquiry as thinking Learning is learning inquiry? to think Schon (1983) How & Reflective inquiry as a way Identifying knowing in what do we know? knowing and on action Uncovering critical contexts: Freire (1970) Why is Reflective inquiry as critical political, social & cultural critical inquiry necessary? consciousness; interrogation Through investigation of the contexts of learning
This template can be used for several purposes, especially for making sense of practices, as well as theoretical distinctions between the theories. For example: • To identify different historical entry points of a profession into reflective inquiry and the theoretical emphases likely to characterize its aims in promoting reflective inquiry. • To illuminate different practices within a theoretical tradition that are likely to characterize practices it is likely to employ; for example, Donald Schon’s emphasis on professional knowing in action. • To determine how different theoretical practices might be combined resulting in specific forms of action and behavior – or not. For example, Stephen Brookfield’s concerns about people confusing critical reflection with reflective inquiry. • It is also clear that this template can play a role in identifying new research, new questions under scrutiny. Today, the work of teaching for social justice may pose the greatest challenges just because moving to critical practice demands critical creativity, often in uncharted domains. Documenting carefully is the first requisite.
Reflective Inquiry: What is its Future? There is today a new imperative to include a focus on reflective inquiry for the education of all kinds of professionals. When considering the future of reflective inquiry, the work presented in this chapter suggests several implications that need to be identified to consider
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how they might shape it. In addition, the predictions of several of the Handbook’s authors will be examined: • About Defining Reflective Inquiry: As this chapter documents, there exist multiple definitions of reflective inquiry that have evolved over time out of the thought and work of philosophers and practitioners. Three major approaches have been identified: reflective inquiry as a mode of thinking; as a way of knowing in action; and, as critical interrogation of the social and political contexts of learners and learning that might suggest actions to follow. These developments, I believe, are healthy signs of a vibrant, rich phenomenon that is still emerging. It is not likely that there will now exist a single agreed upon definition, nor need we hope for one. There are clearly rich veins yet to be explored and ones that ought to be. • But in our research we need to indicate to researchers, practitioners and readers explicitly just how we are defining reflection and what it is we are researching and why. • The Implications of Many Definitions – The Problem of Conducting Research, of Having an Agreed-upon Procedure: Using Which Methodology? An important imperative of reflective inquiry research today is to be clear about how a research project is conceived, how reflective inquiry is defined and – with our template in mind – which of the schools it may be connected to and why. We need to build a clearly identifiable body of research that can build on what has gone before, and also identify what needs to be clarified. Research will include both quantitative and qualitative approaches as it ought to. However, I would argue, too, that narrative inquiry research may be an especially appropriate method as it attends especially to individuals, particular contexts, and the circumstances of individuals in contexts (see Clandinin 2007). In fact, narratives are replete in the works of Dewey, Schon, and Freire, suggesting almost a natural kind.
The Future of Reflective Inquiry: The Ethical Issues that Emerge While there exists a new imperative for reflective inquiry in all kinds of professions for the education of professionals today, there is also a sobering reality from some researchers and practitioners we need to consider. Considering the future of reflective inquiry in teacher education, and looking specifically at the situation of public schools today, both nationally and internationally, we find institutions consumed with the mandates of testing, the result in the United States of the No Child Left Behind law. In other countries too, similar pressures are at work. In the crowded schedules of schools and their incessant demands of testing, that there is no room for reflection. Other practitioners cannot imagine the demise of reflective inquiry, so critical is it to the demands of life today. Indeed, some are turning to reflective inquiry as the foundation of a new kind of professionalism. For example, college teachers looking at the specter of potential standardized testing at the college level threatened by Commissioner of Education Spellings, invoke reflective inquiry as the cornerstone of a new Teacher Professionalism, and a strategy to avoid standardized testing (Brint 2008, p. 8). But there seems little doubt that the future of reflective inquiry will be embedded in ethical concerns. Today’s cutting edge calls for reflective inquiry in professional education reveal likely concerns about the ability of a profession to effectively address some ethical issue. Take the law with its notions of how to deal with issues of what is fair or just within a case method discourse. Or consider Mezirow’s or Brookfield’s concerns about the dilemmas of engaging adult students in critical consciousness of their own lives. How do we prepare students to address these issues? As Freire’s critics questioned, how do you move into action from critical consciousness? We need a more rigorous discussion of these issues. The work presented in this chapter reveals important perspectives on reflective inquiry historically in the past and it clearly points to the future. With hope we follow where it
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leads, inviting all readers of the handbook to share their perspectives and findings from their own inquries.
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New York: W.W. Norton. Schon, D. (1983). The reflective practitioner: How professionals think in action. New York: Basic Books. Schon, D. (1992). The theory of inquiry: Dewey’s legacy to education. Curriculum Inquiry, 22(2), 128–139. Schon, D. (1995). The new scholarship requires a new epistemology. Change, 27(6), 26–34. Shulman, L. (2005). Signature pedagogies in the professions. Daedalus, 134(3), 52–59. Simon, E. T. (2008). Michael Sandel, “Genuine debate illuminates knotty questions,” in Harvard University Gazette, May 8, 2008. Smith, D., & Hatton, N. (1993). Reflection in teacher education: A study in progress. Educational Research & Perspectives, 20(1), 13–23. Social Studies, (1999). Award for John Dewey’s How We Think, one of the ten best books of the 20th Century contributing to the Social Studies, Journal of the Social Studies, v. 90, p. 13, 1999. Sullivan, W. (2005). Markets and professions: Value added. Daedalus, 19–26 Sullivan, W., Colby, A., Wegner, J.W., Bond, L., & Shulman, L. (2007). Educating lawyers: Preparation for the profession of law. Summary. Stanford: Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching, 2007 Sullivan, W. & Rosin, M. (2008). A new agenda for higher education: Shaping the life of the Mind for Practice. Jossey-Bass, San Francisco. Valli, L. (1992). Reflective teacher education: Cases and critiques. Albany, GA: State University of New York. Van Manen, M. (1977). Linking ways of knowing with ways of being practical. Curriculum Inquiry, 6, 205–228. Walker, J. E., Golde, C., Jones, L., Bueschel, A. C., & Hutchings, P. (2007). The formation of scholars. Stanford, CA: The Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching. West, C. (1988). Book review of Cornell West’s Prophetic Fragments. Theology Today, 45(4), 451–453. Weiler, K. (1994). Women teaching for change. Westport, CT: Bergen & Garvey. Zeichner, K. (1999). The new scholarship in teacher education. Educational Researcher, 28(9), 4–15. Zeichner, K., & Wray, S. (2001). The teaching portfolio in US teacher education programs: What we know and what we need to know. Teaching and Teacher Education, 17(5), 613–621.
Part II
Foundational Issues: Needed Conceptual Frameworks
The two chapters of Part II of the Handbook take up what are called foundational issues, those issues found to be necessary for becoming a reflective practitioner. In Chap.â•›2, author Nona Lyons first addresses (1) the need for an individual to consider himself, or herself as a knower and how one knows; and, presents strategies to become familiar with ways of engaging and advancing in reflective inquiry. Three additional strategies are discussed (2) the idea of engaging in one’s own self studies, that is, of inquirying into one’s own professional practice; (3) by taking up Dewey’s idea of exercising certain attitudes as a way of becoming reflective. Dewey suggests being open-minded, wholehearted, and responsible for facilitating engaging in reflection. By being responsible Dewey means the compelling idea of taking responsibility for what one learns, especially in taking action as a result of reflective deliberation. Finally, the Chapter considers (4) taking on what is called for by many today, that is, to take on an inquiry stance, and being willing to interrogate and investigate the political, social and cultural aspects of teaching or learning. In Chap.â•›3 of Part II, Carol Rodgers addresses the role of descriptive inquiry in reflection, in building presence and civic capacity. Rodgers takes up two foundational issues: how to really present to students and how to teach engagement in reflective inquiry. Rodgers examines two basic tasks: how to gain skill in describing the work of a student and how to do a descriptive review of a student over time, and how to make it possible to study how a student works and learns, changes, and develops. Rodgers draws on rich examples from her own students, teachers in training, and offers readers an introduction to important processes to explore.
Chapter 2
Reflective Inquiry: Foundational Issues – “A Deepening of Conscious Life” Nona Lyons
Introduction In retrospect, certain movements in human history seem momentous, as when silent movies gave way to talkies, when critical information searches came about at the click of a computer key, or when the double helix revealed the patterns of cells in complex arrays. Most people claim to see whole new worlds open before their eyes and marvel at how this was achieved and how it came about. But recently, some revelations point away from complex sources to more common everyday ones, even to familiar social practices. Take for example, as book reviewer and dramatist Peter Holbrook (2008) has described, a work on the invention of suspicion by author Lorna Hutson. In her book of the same title, Hutson (2007) examines the revolution in drama in England during the sixteenth century. Many scholars had noticed the intense flowering of realism of literature and drama of Renaissance England. Hutson claims it is partially due to the developments in legal theory and practice. She believes the enormous capacity of drama to hold the mirror up to nature is rooted in the transformation of the legal culture of early modern England. For example, the later part of the sixteenth century saw “a growth in popular litigiousness and general law-mindedness as well as popular participation in judicial proceedings, both secular and ecclesiastical, and interest in investigative and evidentiary processes”. Hutson lays special emphasis on the jury (Holbrook 2008, p. 8). She brings out a fascinating resemblence between the role of a juror and the viewpoint of a spectator in a playhouse. Both the juror and the spectator are concerned about making of judgments on the “narrative probability and the circumstantial coherence of the alleged facts. the act of spectatorship is an act of diagnosis” (Holbrook 2008, p. 8). As a result local sleuths “as well as those serving on a jury will commonly find themselves mulling over intentions, motivations, occasions, histories” (Holbrook 2008, p. 8). But another strand of Hutson’s argument about this consequential development points to the revival of classical oratory, especially in school curriculum. Hutson identifies the forensic character of most of Greek and Roman oratory, and notes how Cicero’s speeches often involve the construction of a believable narrative. In one of his defenses, Cicero acknowledges how he hopes “he has evoked certain events so vividly his listeners will think they have seen them with their own eyes” (Holbrook 2008, p. 8). Hutson believes it N. Lyonsâ•› Department of Education, University College Cork, Donovan’s Road, Cork, Ireland e-mail:
[email protected]
N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_2, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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is as natural for lawyers as it is for orators to be committed to narrative, especially realistic, investigative narrative. And surprisingly, in sixteenth century England, Hutson believes they learnt it all at school! Hutson’s work suggests that the flowering of inquiry as a way of legal thinking was part of the curriculum of the English school. We ask: In our time, could inquiry thinking similarly be learnt at school? Reports to date reveal serious challenges to teaching inquiry at all educational levels (Kuhn 2005; Kuhn, Weinstock 2002, see also Bok 2006). Surely needed is a pedagogy by which inquiry thinking might be nurtured. Here, four elements or principles of a pedagogy are suggested to facilitate that thinking: (1) Understanding the importance of knowing how one knows, of taking a meta-cognitive view of oneself as a knower; (2) Conducting inquires into one’s own teaching, practice and learning – of how to teach and how students learn; (3) Exploring the meaning of taking an inquiry stance; and, (4) adopting the attitudes Dewey suggests for becoming a reflective inquirer. Why these four? In this chapter, I take up this question by identifying relevant theories and some exemplary pedagogical strategies for each of the principles to provide evidence that the four contribute to a necessary deepening and widening of conscious life of learners.
The Self as a Knower: Developing a Perspective ‘Towards’ Knowing Recently, interest in personal epistemology has raised curiosity about peoples’ ideas of knowledge and of knowing how people come to know. While several researchers have sketched their ideas of how this phenomenon develops and how empirical research and theory have grown dramatically in the recent decades, there is still difficulty in unlocking what epistemological thinking is and why it matters. As Deanna Kuhn and Michael Weinstock (2002) observe in Hofer and Pintrich’s (2002) comprehensive review of epistemological research, there are serious difficulties in making research on the subject useful to other researchers and practitioners. In part, there is the conceptual complexity of the subject itself. Then, there is not an agreed upon language for describing the phenomenon. What is needed is clarity in language and in indicating what difference epistemological development makes. Yet, at the same time, there is a remarkable similarity in the overall conceptual frameworks of epistemological development as defined by researchers (Hofer 2002, p. 4–7). My purpose here is to look at just two frameworks of epistemological development and to sketch the implications for inquiry learning through each of the schemes: the pioneering work of William Perry (1970), still acknowledged as fundamental to the paradigm; and the contribution of Mary Belenky and her colleagues – Blythe Clinchy, Nancy Goldberger and Jill Tarule – who began with Perry’s discoveries and went on to develop the model referred to as “Ways of Knowing” (Belenky et€al. 1986), a model many see as adding considerably to Perry’s vision. But why connect ways of knowing with reflective inquiry? Reflective inquiry invites a consideration of how we know, how we learn and asks us to be attentive to our own awareness, to become conscious of ourselves as knowers. Thus, our vision of knowing and our own ideas of knowledge are intimately connected to engaging consciously in inquiry, to making investigations into some puzzle or problem we want to understand. Bill Perry, counselor and researcher of psychological development, first mapped how students constructed understandings about knowledge and knowing, how they differed in that process, and suggested what difference those dissimilarities could make in their learning. Bill Perry’s own investigations were in parts, serendipitous. In the 1970s, Perry, the Director of Harvard University’s Bureau of Study Counsel, was also teaching courses in “how to improve one’s reading abilities” to Harvard undergraduates. After having completed one course, Perry asked students to write an evaluation of it and was astonished to
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read his students’ responses. Some said, “This course has changed my whole outlook on education and life! It was superbly taught! Should be required of all students!” But others claimed, “This course is falsely advertised and dishonest. You have cheated me of my tuition!” (Perry 1981, p. 77). Perry, trying to make sense of these dis-similarities, decided to try to understand how swtudents were making sense of their studies across their 4 years of college.
Perry’s Discovery: Students construct and re-construct their ideas about knowledge Perry’s method was elegant. He simply invited students to participate in an annual interview at the end of each of their four years of college. He asked them, “Would you like to say what has stood out for you during this year?” Perry thought that most students’ responses would relate to personality measures, revealing some aspect of their personality. But when he analyzed the students’ responses, Perry came to the conclusion that over the 4 years of college, students had undergone a revolutionary change, experiencing what a colleague called an epistemological pilgrim’s progress – important changes in the ways they viewed and understood knowledge, truth, authority, etc. Perry sketched this model as a “scheme” of the ability of students to construct meaning. Over their college years, Perry realized, students had been engaged in nothing less than creating coherent interpretive frameworks, reinterpretating their ways of knowing, of making meaning and of making commitments (Perry 1981, p. 77). All of this held great educational importance for understanding teaching and student learning. One researcher reports: “Even after some 30€years of extensive and varied scholarship, Perry’s scheme continues to reflect the most critical dimension to educators’ understanding of learning and students’ approaches to learning ... it remains a rich heuristic framework” (Moore 2002, p. 18). Perry, in developing his scheme, described 9 positions (stances or perspectives), identified four major stages, the changes in meaning that students experienced as development over time: Dualism, followed by multiplicity, contextual relativism and commitment. Perry discovered some students early on, even as freshmen, begin their educational careers with a naive, dualistic perspective on knowledge and knowing, that is, they assumed all knowledge is known and that someone, usually an authority figure, knows the one right answer to any problem. As students develop, they come to realize that there are or can be multiple perspectives towards what is known. The danger of this perspective, which Perry called “multiplicity,” is that any opinion may be termed as good as any other and all Â�knowledge or truth relegated to “just an opinion.” But growth is possible and some students realized that some positions have a better grounding in evidence. Then comes the revolutionary leap to understanding that all knowledge is constructed and relative (to something else, values, beliefs, etc.). Perry named this “contextual relativism.” This movement, arguably the most significant transition within Perry’s scheme, “represents a fundamental transformation of one’s perspective – from a vision of the world as essentially dualistic and fixed, to a vision of a world essentially relativistic and contextbound, with a few right/wrong exceptions. Contextual relativism is the self-consciousness of being an active maker of meaning” (Moore 2002, p. 21). Perry’s description of this change identifies it as the “radical reperception of all knowledge as contextual and relativistic” (Perry 1999, p. 121). Students achieve this by making a transition. That is, they take relativism from that of a special case to the status of context and within this they relegate dualism to a subordinate place. But Perry remarks, “Strangely enough, we have found no explicit description of this kind of transformation as a phenomenon in human personal development.... The event presented us with a paradox:
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Fig.€2.1â•… Perry’s scheme: 9 positions
the revolution is both the most violent accommodation of structure in the entire development, and at the same time the most quiet. It involves a complete transposition between part and whole, figure and ground, and yet no student in our sample referred to it as a conscious event, a discrete experience, a ‘realisation’” (Perry 1999, pp. 123–124). Once students had achieved this position of contextual relativism, they could not believe or acknowledge that they had ever held a dualistic one. Perry, similar to Piaget, believes that change comes about for students through their encounters with different points of view on issues presented by fellow students or their professors. Informal discussions, conversations, challenging arguments, all serve to foster the process. Students themselves are the constructors of knowledge of these stances. Perry termed these interpretive stances he called “positions” as perspectives towards knowing (Perry 1971, 1999). Perry sketched this scheme, Fig.€╛2.1, indicating that students could be in different positions while in the same class. Lee Knefelkamp, a colleague of Perry who extended Perry’s model to indicate its implications for student learning, suggests it is clear from this diagram that the first four positions or stages of the scheme are elaborations of dualism and that contextual relativism is a qualitative, different way of thinking; The later stages, 6–9, are the anticipations, decisions and experiences of the consequences of life commitments usually made in adulthood. Thus, it is primarily positions 2–5, that are significant in terms of student learning (Knefelkamp 1999, p. ). Overall, William Moore argues, there are two significant dynamics in Perry’s scheme: (1) confronting and coping with diversity and uncertainty; and, (2) “the attendant evolution of meaning-making about learning and self.... as learners confront levels of multiplicity, their meaning making shifts and evolves in predictable ways. Most significantly, knowledge is seen as increasingly conjectural and uncertain, open to (and requiring) interpretation.” This development triggers parallel shifts in a learner’s views about the role of a teacher as well as the role of a student (Moore 2002, p. 22). Perry’s sketch of epistemological development, along with Knefelkamp’s elaboration, helped to bring these ideas to the attention of college teachers as well as researchers who found them extraordinarily useful in explaining their students. As Perry hoped the rich data he collected of students’ thinking and the change across their 4 years of college, made the challenges students and their teachers faced understandable. Perry, who built into his model, the idea that people faced with the challenges of revising their ideas and models of the world about knowledge and who or what could be trusted, might become stymied by such changes and want to retreat from them or hold off accepting a new perspective. To Perry, these could be sensible moves in their development. This research clearly engendered new discussions of early adult development. It also generated new research questions. One, that was of particular interest to Mary Belenky, Blythe Clinchy, Nancy Goldberger and Jill Tarule, was how appropriate the model was for women, since most of Perry’s students in his studies were white, privileged Harvard men. Blythe Clinchy while conducting some earlier research on college students’ ways of knowing, noticed that some women seemed not to respond in ways Perry’s men
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did. For example, Perry had noted that students often would eagerly engage in argument when discovering that an opinion differed from theirs, trying to punch holes in it. But some women encountering a similar situation would seem to take the position of trying hard to understand others position. Thus Belenky and Clinchy, joined by Goldberger and Tarule, decided to launch a study of their own of women’s epistemologies, of their ways of knowing. They recruited 135 women from different learning environments, from liberal arts colleges, to community colleges, to those in social service agencies. Their work led to the creation of a new model of epistemological development, the ways of knowing. The model developed by Belenky et€al. posited, similarly to Perry’s, that all knowledge is constructed by individuals themselves. But Belenky et€al. had a different epistemological issue as their concern. They wanted to know how women came to understand themselves as students and knowers – not only how they viewed truth and knowledge, but rather how they saw themselves as knowers. Did they rely on others to hand them knowledge, did they rely on their own “gut” feelings, or did they see themselves as users of procedures that could deliberately help to validate knowledge? This concern to understand how these students made sense of their experience especially focused on the procedures of knowing. Belenky and her colleagues identified two major strands of procedures: one of trying hard to understand another’s view, which the researchers called “Connected Knowing”; in contrast to another view they termed “Separate Knowing” in which the individual self was to be kept in an objective stance, distanced from the position, an evaluator of it. The full scheme of the Ways of Knowing is indicated (from Clinchy 2003, p. 37).
Ways of Knowing • Received knowing: The source of knowledge is external, residing especially in authorties who know the truth. Truth can be embodied in words. Truth is single, absolute, concrete, and factual, so a thing is either right or wrong, true or false, good or bad. • Subjective knowing: The source of knowledge is located in the self. Listening to one’s inner voice becomes knowledge, seen as being based on one’s personal experience and intuition. There are multiple truths and multiple realities, and all are equally valid, but mine is absolutely right for me. Truth is personal and private and probably incommunicable. • Procedural knowing: Knowledge is acquired, developed, and communicated through the deliberate and systematic use of procedures. • Separate mode: Focus is on analyzing and evaluating different points of view or arguments. Be abstract and analytic. Objectivity is achieved through detachment by adhering to impersonal standards and “weeding out the self.” Feelings are seen as a clouding thought. Goal: To construct truth – to test, prove, disprove, convince, and be convinced. • Connected mode: Focus is on trying to understand and experience another’s perspective, another’s and reality, and to be understood. Be narrative and holistic rather than argumentative and analytic. Objectivity is achieved through attachment, adopting another’s perspective. Feelings are seen as an illuminating thought. Goal: To construct meaning – to understand and be understood. • Constructed knowing: Knowledge is understood to be constructed, and the knower is assumed to play a role in shaping the known. Use of both separate and connected modes of discourse can become integrated into a single approach. Openness to transformation. Goal: To understand the contexts, out of which ideas arise, and to take responsibility for examining, evaluating, and developing systems of thought, and to attend to their implications for action. To care about thinking and think about caring (Clinchy 2003, p. 37).
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Belenky and her colleagues provide rich examples in their work of actual statements of students talking about their beliefs about these things. But one professor of communications found that the descriptions of the ways of knowing that he heard Blythe Clinchy describe in a lecture and later read about in the book Women’s Ways of Knowing offered a helpful conceptual scheme to him. He wondered if it might help his students as well. It seemed to fit his students’ descriptions of their ways of communicating. He had found that most of his students – largely unnoticed by them – communicated in definite patterns. Some “communicated as if they really know something only if they got it from an expert source or authority (‘received knowing’); others, only if it originated in or agreed with their own personal opinions and/or experiences (‘subjective knowing’). A third group of students seemed to learn best by trying to understand and empathise with others (‘connected procedural knowing’); a fourth group, by debating and arguing (‘separated procedural knowing’)” (Quoted in Angelo and Cross 1993, p. 83). The Professor then wanted to see if the scheme made sense to his students. He devised an assessment on the ways of knowing, giving the students descriptions of “Separate”, “Connected,” “Subjective,” and “Received” ways of knowing (as described above). He then asked students to rate (1) which statement reminded them most of themselves; (2) which of the approaches they actually use when communicating in class; (3) which they used most in their social/personal life outside of class; and, (4) which they preferred when others are communicating with them. Finally, he asked if there were some interpersonal situations in which one approach might not be appropriate. The Professor and his students studied the results. It opened several days of provocative and productive conversation, it even prompted some investigations by students themselves. As a class, the Professor and his students found themselves consciously referring to the ways of knowing scheme throughout the year in what they described as important and helpful ways of understanding themselves as communicators with others, as knowers. Other third level teachers as well as teachers of high school and middle school have found the idea of Perry-Belenky ways of knowing models provocative and useful tools of interpretation ( Lyons 1990). They too consider how the frameworks can serve as teaching tools. Giving students the challenge to consider different perspectives on knowing is seen as a tool for inquiry. The ways of knowing models offer important interpretive frameworks and valued perspectives for teachers and students. Donald Schon suggests an important implication: that is, not only do individuals hold epistemological perspectives, but so do institutions. “Like other organisations, educational institutions have epistemologies. They hold conceptions of what counts as knowledge and how you know what you claim to know. These theories of knowledge need not be consciously espoused by individuals although they may be, for they are built into institutional structures and practices” (Schon 1995, p. 32). For instance, K-12 schools today that endorse a constructivist view of learning, of students, as constructors of their own knowing, will endorse practices in keeping with that view. Schools that do not, will promote different practices. Introducing students to the challenges of different perspectives on knowing is a useful tool for facilitating inquiry, and a valued achievement when students can grapple with them.
Engaging in Inquiry: Exploring One’s Own Practice One Case Study It is easily apparent that no one has better access to study educational settings and students than teachers themselves. Yet that rarely happens. What if teachers or any practitioner were to study regularly and seriously their own and their students’ contexts of learning?
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What would they uncover? How? How valuable would that knowledge be? What would faculty need to carry out this kind of inquiry? To date, much important research has already begun on this task, especially through self-study (Loughran et€al. 2004), but much remains to be done (Kuhn 2005). And inquiry by itself is a challenging undertaking for teachers and their students, often the subject of serious misconceptions (Kuhn 2005). It is a process that needs to be scaffolded for all its practitioners. Common usage defines inquiry as an investigation, that is, to probe, explore, research, question, query, etc. (Oxford Dictionary and Thesaurus 2001, p427). But these definitions fail to hint at the skills involved. Here, following psychologist Deanna Kuhn (2005, p. 4), inquiry is defined preliminarily as thinking well in undertaking the investigation of a problem arising in a real-life setting. Reflective inquiry of a portfolio process highlights the inquiry task as a meta-cognitive issue, that is, to thinking of one’s own processes of thinking and knowing the need to document the investigative process as well as the meaning and understanding one achieves through it. This section of the chapter reports on the result of a portfolio exploration in inquiry. A striking discovery in the recent critiques of higher education in the USA and Europe is how the critiques today of higher education echo those leveled at elementary and secondary education. For example, there is a charge that although most undergraduate students make gains during their college years, they accomplish far less than they should. Derek Bok, interim president of Harvard University, writing “Our Underachieving Colleges” (Bok 2006), finds college students lack critical thinking skills and the ability to make sound judgments beyond a naive epistemology, that is, an understanding of what knowing and knowledge are and how we know. Many seniors graduate without being able to write well enough to satisfy their employers. Many cannot reason clearly or perform competently in analyzing complex, nontechnical problems, even though faculties rank critical thinking as the primary goal of a college education. (Bok 2006, p. 8)
Equally surprising is the fact that most colleges neglect to collect data on what exactly their students learn and know how to do at graduation, in contrast to the number of courses the students have taken. Although some professors are aware of the problems of student learning and try new methods of teaching, their concerns are not always shared by faculty as a whole. Complicating this situation is also the challenge of uncovering what it takes to engage in inquiry and how to teach its skills. Developmental psychologist Deanna Kuhn (2005), in her ground-breaking book, Education for Thinking, documents the sobering difficulty for both children and adults of doing inquiry, from identifying a question, to constructing an investigation, to distinguishing evidence from assertion, and to connecting research with findings, and not just what was done. Kuhn argues that students must have not only the skills but the opportunity to engage in increasingly complex forms of inquiry and grow in epistemological understanding of the nature of knowledge. At present, she argues “… we lack sufficient understanding of what it means to be an independent learner and thinker … to make this a readily implementable goal in classrooms today” (Kuhn 2005, p. 4) Thus, three problems emerge for teachers of inquiry at all levels: (1) The failure of students to do well, especially in developing thinking and inquiry skills; (2) the challenge to knowing how to teach students, inquiry and its skills; and, (3) the lack of exchange between college or K-12 teachers of these pedagogical strategies (See Huber and Hutchings 2005, p. 26). One path out of these dilemmas is knowing how to connect, read and evaluate evidence, an ability critical to developing understanding of the inquiry process. But to develop this ability, students must first be able to sustain observation; connect both observation and evidence to the central question of their investigation; and then write up what they have discovered, not just what they have done. In fact, data and conclusions are sometimes not linked, and students rarely connect what they had discovered to their own knowledge (Kuhn, 2005, p. 54). Some researchers in this area have argued for the necessity to move
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towards more highly structured sequences of activities in support of the inquiry process, identifying and breaking down each step of the process, such as those listed here. The process of creating a portfolio of work by a teacher or a student is regarded as an effective scaffold for engaging in inquiry. In my experiences in working with students and accomplished faculty, the portfolio has proven to be an effective scaffold. For one example, recently in my work at University College Cork in Ireland, we developed a new experiment that yielded further insights into this process. The occasion was the launch of a new 2-year Masters in research by portfolio program that had begun 3-years ago within the Applied Social Studies department. I worked with Carmel Halton, the program Chair, in designing and starting the program. Together, we met with students to document their experiences. Here, I report on the pilot class of four students who comprised the first class. The program was designed for practicing social work students who had entered the program to gain new skills and to undertake a research project directly related to their practice. The development of the students in the program offers glimpses into the inquiry process for mature practitioners. In a new MA in research by portfolio program, students acknowledged that they found many aspects of the research inquiry process to be new experiences For example, defining and revising their research question and reviewing relevant research and placing their project within that context of prior research. Some of these new experiences tested and enhanced their own ways of knowing. While students attended classes in research design and execution, they were highly aware of how their projects, all rooted in the agencies in which they worked, created subtle differences in how they were viewed, and how they viewed their projects. Participants were seen by colleagues and service users as researchers within their own agencies. They also began to make more direct connections between research and practice. As one participant commented, “When doing the research I began to realise that the knowledge I had acquired over the years in practice was very important and relevant to the research” (Halton and Lyons, 2006). Questions about knowing became central for all and, in the end, a theme of the program.
Practitioners’ Views on Inquiry Through Research and Reflection: Gaining Understanding of Knowing Students’ views of knowledge, of the nature of that knowledge and of the process of their coming to know, and understand through their participation in the program, are central issues that my colleague, Carmel Halton, and I wished to investigate when undertaking this research. Through focus group discussion, individual questionnaires and interviews, important information surfaced that the authors hope will help to inform and shape educational developments and learning practices on dedicated programs for experienced professionals. This research documents the responses of students to significant program features that supported their learning throughout the 2 years, highlighting the following themes as outcomes of the reflective inquiry process: • • • • •
Greater understanding of knowledge, knowing and coming to know, Improved links between research and practice, New knowledge of practice, Appreciation of learning scaffolds, and Development of a culture of reflective inquiry.
The contribution that the portfolio process and the course design made to support and extend their learning is highlighted in their texts. The successful completion of the program by all students lends weight and credibility to the views expressed.
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Participants varied in their approaches to the research projects. For example, one participant immediately felt a sense of challenge, of not knowing even about practical things such as using the library. This person felt unsure and incompetent, but gradually felt challenged about “my narrow interpretation of events’ in the workplace and began to realise there were many number of ways to look at the same thing.” Others plunged into the complexities of practitioner research with a different perspective. One said “Practitioner research identifies, defines and supports new learning relevant to our specific field of inquiry. It is conducted to improve practice through better understanding ... it is better informed by the experience and expertise of the researcher and is validated by its grounding in real-life, on-going situations.” Yet another participant, a social work practitioner for almost 30€years, saw that, “Being in the field challenges one’s knowledge base constantly, particularly if you are open to changing your approach based on learning on the job. Many of us have practice knowledge of the field that we know we operate from. We also know that to impose services and solutions is often useless unless one engages with the persons or families involved in the research. Yet much research is carried out often by agencies who have little day-to-day knowledge of the lives of the people they are researching” (All quotes from Halton and Lyons, 2006).
Improved Links between Research and Practice As experienced, senior social work practitioners within their agencies, participants at the outset of the program sought to make connections between research and practice. In particular, their views of themselves as researchers of practice posed interesting questions and some challenges. As one student remarked: Practitioners lack the confidence and the sense that they have legitimate questions to ask in terms of research ... [they still view research as] the occupation of academics and government departments and not practitioners ...research is constructed and presented by academics and policy makers with little day to day knowledge of the lives of the people they are researching. They do not often ask the right questions ... [Consequently] their research serves to estrange rather than engage participants and practitioners; ... as a practitioner researcher, I sought to put the researched population central to the research process. In so doing I hoped that the research outcome would·have a direct impact on the lives of the researched population. This was very important for me as a practitioner who was engaging in research.
Another student spoke of how his confidence developed over his participation on the course: “This course has helped me to develop my confidence in myself as a researcher. I now realise that I can do research on my practice and deal with the issues of objectivity and bias that before the course, and even at the start of the course, I found hard to understand and to reconcile ... I now realise that research and practice are not the separate activities I always thought they were. I have learned that as a practitioner, I can engage in practice research that has validity. This has been a big learning for me over the last two years ... I was so afraid of my own bias that when I was interviewing, I stuck strictly to the questions on my interview guide. I did not ask follow up questions or even get the kids to elaborate on what they were saying. I was very conscious of my position as a researcher and the knowledge I had as a practitioner. I was afraid if I strayed from the questions at all I might corrupt the research data.” The confidence-building that various students associated with their course participation seemed to spread out within the agency. “When I was on the course I talked to my colleagues about what I was doing. I was involved in a type of role modeling. I think it gave them a confidence to think that they too could do the same. Research no longer seemed so remote and removed from their practice.”
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New Knowledge of Practice One student referred to the benefits of undertaking research and the contribution that this research has made towards developing practice knowledge: Doing the research project helped me to gain confidence not only as researcher of practice but it also helped me in practice by providing fresh insights and new knowledge. If I had not done this research and engaged the kids in it the way I did I may never have valued the knowledge the kids have that practitioners like me and service providers need to know.
The mystique that surrounded the research enterprise was something students battled to overcome. “Are research and practice completely different activities?” Another student named some practical unforeseen challenges: There were a lot of practical issues and technical knowledge that I had to learn in order to complete the course; This was time consuming in a way that I had not fully considered prior to participating on the course. I also had to learn to do a proper literature review, using updated resources and new.
Appreciation of Learning Scaffolds: The Reflective Portfolio, Peers and Presentations Throughout the research, students highlighted the importance of the portfolio and the learning journal in scaffolding and promoting their ongoing learning and development throughout the course: My attraction to this type of Masters program was directly related to its use of the portfolio. I have been interested in reflective inquiry for some time now. As the portfolio was centrally located in this program, it presented me with an opportunity to use it, while undertaking a piece of research. I found the whole idea exciting.
Another student referred to challenges he experienced when completing the learning journal: “I found it difficult to get into writing a journal. I was very self-conscious writing it. I was not used to writing and putting my thoughts and feelings down on paper. It was challenging for me, even more so when I had to read it out to the others in the group [but] the learning journal provided me with a space to think about what I was doing.” Highlighting the emphasis the portfolio places on tracking the research process, one student remarked: The portfolio is a more holistic way of learning. The reflective process left me feeling uncomfortable. At times nothing made sense. I had no answers and I found that space difficult. But as time went on I became more comfortable with not knowing.
Nakkula and Ravitch (1998) refer to learners feeling “thrown” and “uprooted” by the reflective learning process. Students here also spoke of having to take risks in his research practice: I had to learn to take risks. I didn’t know what issues were going to arise in the interviews. To my surprise the groups were able to facilitate themselves and managed. The portfolio process, which includes the learning journal and peer support helped, “to bring the researcher, the researched, the research process and context all together.”
The students identified the peer group as a place of safety and trust, where their feelings of uncertainty could be contained and addressed. The peer support group promoted a connectedness between participants:
2â•… Reflective Inquiry: Foundational Issues The whole process of making my research questions public to my peer group helped me gain a greater sense of my own identity as a researcher. Peers were all practitioners who had knowledge of the practice and the practice context where my research was located. My confidence developed in sharing my research as the course progressed.
Conclusions: Creating a Culture of Reflective Inquiry One student said that the “value of engaging in reflective inquiry when engaging in researching questions of practice was very important.” The same student stressed: I discovered that the process of reflection requires the practitioner/researcher to avoid the temptation of second guessing answers but instead to develop a culture/discipline in order to further their investigations. The development of this culture of reflection can effect [sic?] and challenge some of the fundamental elements of an individual’s practice. The use of reflective questioning enabled me as the practitioner researcher to unearth new aspects of my practice through uncovering new elements in the research. Reflective inquiry allows the practitioner/researcher to create new knowledge and re-create themselves within their professions.
There are several contributions of the portfolio/research inquiry processes to practitioners’ ways of knowing. As course directors, we identify the following as potential achievements of the inquiry process with the suggestion that these ought to be the subject of systematic investigations and study. We believe students of this program: • Have achieved knowledge and understanding of the strategies of inquiry; the power of framing questions, the process of designing an interrogation, the significance of Â�evidence, and the nature of adequate or inadequate evidence, • Are aware of the kind of knowledge that can be acquired through inquiry, • Have identified how new knowledge is shaping or can shape their professional practice, and • Have acknowledged that the reflective research inquiry process allows students to become aware of the process of inquiry at a meta-cognitive level, that is, of how they know that they knew. Developing an Inquiry Stance No reflection about education and democracy can exclude issues of power, economics, equality, justice and its application, and ethics. (Paulo Freire 1996, p. 146)
Many educators today who increasingly acknowledge an imperative to deepen their approaches to teaching for social justice encourage their students and themselves to take an inquiry stance. Inquiry, as interrogation, is being encouraged as a necessity of teaching. In light of the extreme narrowing of the educational agenda, especially in the United States over the last 8 years through the legislation of the “No Child Left Behind” (NCLB) law, with its testing mandates, and continuing today in many countries also with an increasing obsession for testing, teacher educators have begun to ring the fire bell in the night, alerting all to the larger implications of these developments. Noteworthy are teacher educators Marilyn Cochran-Smith and Susan Lytle (1999) who earlier identified the new politics of teacher education as a co-option, a slight of hand, translating the political problem of NCLB into what would become a testing problem for teachers and their students, rather than a learning problem. Cochran-Smith and Lytle urged teachers themselves to develop “an inquiry stance,” to create opportunities for teachers to question and interrogate their practices, consider the unique needs of their students, and the history and the context of their
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school and its surroundings. Cochran-Smith argues that this means “new and experienced teachers and teacher educators work within communities to generate local knowledge, envision and theorize their practice, and interpret and interrogate the theory and research of others” (Cochran-Smith 2004, p. 14). For Cochran-Smith it is fundamental that the work of inquiry communities is social and political – that is, “it involves making problematic, the current arrangements of schooling; the ways knowledge is constructed, evaluated, and used, and teachers’ individual and collective roles in bringing about change” (Cochran-Smith 2004, p. 14). Cochran-Smith and Lytle developed the idea of inquiry as stance. Their purpose: to capture in a metaphor the ways we stand, the ways we see, and the lenses we see through as educators. Teaching is a complex activity that occurs within webs of social, historical, cultural, and political significance. Across the life span an inquiry stance provides a kind of grounding within the changing cultures of school reform and competing political agendas – a place to put one’s feet as it were, as well as a frame of mind. (Cochran-Smith 2004, p. 14)
As they conceptualized it, inquiry as stance is intended to inform ongoing critiques of the larger purposes of school and the impact of particular practices and policies on pupils’ life chances. Teachers are being urged to engage in critical inquiry from several fronts. Paulo Freire reminded teachers of the foundational value of inquiry: There is no such thing as teaching without research and research without teaching. One inhabits the body of the other. As I teach I continue to search and re-search. I teach because I search because I question, and because I submit myself to questioning. I research because I notice things, take cognizance of them. And in so doing I intervene. And in intervening, I educate and educate myself. I do research to know what I do not yet know and to communicate and proclaim what I discover. (Freire 1998, p. 35)
Teacher educators for social justice are insistent in their concerns about promoting critical inquiry. They have been especially outspoken since 2007 when NCATE (National Council for the Assessment of Teacher Education, 2007), the United States’ standard bearer of the assessment of teacher education programs, decided to drop teaching for social justice as a disposition appropriate for teachers and a standard for accreditation of teacher education programs. The education community was surprised and dismayed but began querying what does it mean to teach for social justice? Linda Darling-Hammond argues: “Teaching for social justice is a lifelong undertaking. It involves coming to understand oneself in relation to others, examining how society constructs privilege and inequality and how this affects one’s own opportunities as well as those of others; exploring the experiences of others; evaluating how schools and classrooms operate and can be structured to value diverse human experience to enable learning for all students – this demands how to bring about change in institutions – done in the company of others (Darling-Hammond et al., 2002, p. 3) Jeannie Oakes and Martin Lipman define a social justice perspective on education as one that does three things: 1. It considers the values and politics that pervade education, as well as the more technical issues of teaching and organizing schools. 2. It asks critical questions about how conventional thinking and practice came to be, and who in society benefits from them, and…; 3. It pays attention to inequalities associated with race, social class, language, gender, and other social categories and looks for alternatives to the inequalities; acting to achieve social justice in schools is a struggle sustained by hope. (Oakes and Lipman 2003, p. xv)
These teacher educators go on, “...we emphasize research and historical analyses that show how excellent teaching requires social justice.” (Oakes and Lipman 2003, p. xv) But it is necessary “to think of democracy as an ongoing struggle rather than an idyllic or perfect end product. Rather the democracy must be one that Cornel West suggests ‘keeps track of social misery, solicits and channels moral outrage to alleviate it, and projects
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a future in which the potentialities of ordinary people flourish and flower’” (Quoted in Oakes and Lipman 2002, p. 433). Such a stance is bolstered by theories including critical race theory (Tate 1997), by new research in learning, such as the ways of knowing (Hofer and Pintrich 2002; Moore 2002), as well as the work of those arguing for critical social theory needed in teaching for social justice. Perhaps the most eloquent and long-standing pervasive voice for teaching for social justice is that of Paulo Freire. Especially persuasive is the power or critical theory “to change the pedagogical process from one of knowledge transmission to knowledge transformation” (Leonardo 2004, p. 11). Critical theory has its lineages in several different lines of inquiry such as the Frankfort School, the work of Adorno and Habermas, and includes more recently, Nancy Fraser (1997) and Patricia Hill Collins (1998). In education, some see traces of John Dewey’s influence, but no one has popularised its value as did Paulo Freire (Leonardo 2004, pp. 11–12). Kathleen Weiler argues “Freire is without question the most influential theorist of critical liberatory education” (Weiler 1994, p. 13). We can say that pedagogy first became critical with the arrival of Freire’s work and soon after ... critical pedagogy entered the educational lexicon. Although it would be accurate to appropriate Dewey as an influence on the development of Critical Social Theory in education, it is Freire’s work that promotes ideological critique, an analysis of culture, attention to discourse, and a recasting of the teacher as an intellectual or cultural worker (see also Giroux, 1988)…. Freire gave education a language that neglected neither the effect of oppression on concrete people nor their ability to intervene on their own behalf, not the terrorizing and structured consequences of capitalism and other systems. (Leonardo 2004, p. 12)
Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed published in 1970 to instant and great acclaim, first outlined his radical educational pedagogy, one he had already been practicing in Brazil in teaching literacy to the poor. But in the 1990s, Freire deliberately revisited his classic book, one that is still the most quoted educational texts in Latin America, Asia and Africa. He published The Pedagogy of Hope in 1994 and in 1996, Letters to Cristina, (his niece), largely a set of reflections on his life work in education, including responses to several critics of Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Several points are examined and underscored in these new works: the emphasis on dialogue and conversation as pedagogical strategies rather than curriculum; the importance of respect of people working together, community building, that praxis is informed and linked to values; and that the overall goal is developing consciousness that could transform people and lead to action. As philosopher Ronald Glass asserts, “for Freire, the essentially defining ontological feature of being human is that people produce history and culture, even as history and culture produce them, thus both the theory and application of education as a practice of freedom ‘take the people’s history as their starting point’” (Freire, 1994, p. 65, Quoted in Glass 2001, p. 17). For individuals, this means not seeing their situation fatalistically; rather as it is the opening for concrete efforts to transform oppressive realities. “People may not be free to choose the time, place, meanings, standards and so on, into which they have been thrown by their birth, yet they are able to take up specific stances within that context and make of it what they may”(Glass 2001, p. 18). There is a critical need to consider how hope fits into a critical view of education as well as democracy. Hope is an active force which is imperative to the success of the problem-posing education and the conscientisation process (Freire espouses). Conversely, hopelessness is a ‘concrete entity’ created by economic, historical and social forces of oppression, and is intensified in the absence of a critical knowledge of reality. “A pedagogy centered only in critique becomes a discourse of bankruptcy is not a future project but a constitutive party of everyday life” (Semardo 2004, p.16). Freire is clear that hope alone is not enough. But it is necessary. For Freire, the goal is a new consciousness that would lead to transformation and then to social change, embedding hope in all.
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A Case Example – Critical Race Theory At this point, it seems useful to provide an example of a critical inquiry that has engaged an interrogation into the political and social life towards a new consciousness. I give the example of a long-standing inquiry, of how it began and developed over time. The inquiry is focused on race in the United States and the emergence of critical race theory. I begin with John Dewey and his assertion about democracy in America and then take up the case of the development of the critical race theory, here, however, only in a brief, abbreviated form. John Dewey in his book, Democracy and Education, asserted in 1916 that the United States was a democracy in name only, “numerically democratic.” It had not yet become truly democratic (Dewey 1944/1916, p. iii). But he wanted his work on education, his philosophy of education to contribute to its growth. His conception of a democratic way of life, like his concept of education, is not a means to some larger end but only to more education, more growth. As he summarizes, “A democracy is more than a form of government; it is primarily a mode of associated living, of conjoint communicated experience” (Dewey 1916, p. 93). For Dewey, a reflective way of thinking encourages an ideal of democracy as an associated mode of living, and learning as learning from all the contacts of life. Iindividuals giving their best – imagination, hope, courage, creativity – and in return receiving inspiration, courage, and ideas (Dewey 1944/1916, p. 359). But that was not possible in America because of race. In 1916, Dewey believed that United States was only on the road to becoming a democracy. It did not yet feature an ethos, in his view, in which groups and communities – especially those with the greatest political and economic resources – deliberately seek out contact with others who differ in outlook and practice, in part so that society can transform itself peacefully rather than violently. As Gloria Ladson-Billings and William Tate assert, in US society, inequalities of race are a logical and a predictable result of a racialized society in which discussions of race and racism continue to be muted and marginalized (Ladson-Billings and Tate 1995, p. 47). In their article, “Toward Critical Race Theory of Education,” Ladson-Billings and Tate attempt to theorize race and use it as an analytic tool for understanding school inequity. They base their work on three central propositions: (1) Race continues to be a significant factor in determining inequity in the United States; (2) US society is based on property rights; and (3) the intersection of race and property creates an analytic tool through which we can understand social, and consequently, school inequity. These authors assert that race, unlike gender and class, remains untheorized. Paradigms of race have been conflated with notions of ethnicity, class and nation. Other researchers suggest “theories of race – of its meaning, its transformations, the significance of racial events – have never been a top priority in social science... racial theory remained one of the least developed fields of sociological inquiry” (Omi and Winant. 1994, p. 9). LadsonBillings and Tate go on to clarify: By arguing that race remains untheorized, we are not suggesting that other scholars have not looked carefully at race as a powerful tool for explaining social inequity, but that the intellectual salience of this theorizing has not been systematically employed in the analysis of educational inequality…. Our work owes an intellectual debt to both Carter G. Woodson and W.E.B. Du Bois, who, although marginalized by the mainstream academic community, used race as a theoretical lens for assessing social inequity. (Ladson-Billings and Tate 1995, p. 50)
Both Du Bois and Woodson presented important arguments for placing race as the central concept for understanding social inequity. Woodson in 1916 attempted to establish race as a scholarly inquiry. In his book, The Miseducation of the Negro, Woodson argued: “The same educational process which inspires and stimulates the oppressor with the
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thought that he is everything and has accomplished everything worthwhile, depresses and crushes at the same time the spark of genius in the Negro by making him feel that his race does not amount to much and never will measure up to the standards of other people” (Woodson 1933, p.xiii). Du Bois profoundly impacted the thinking of many identified as “other” by naming a “double consciousness” felt by African Americans. According to Du Bois, the African American “ever feels his two-ness – an American, A Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings” (DuBois 1989, p. 5; quoted in Ladson-Billings and Tate 1995, p. 50). “As a prophetic foreshadowing of the centrality of race in U.S. society, Du Bois reminded us that ‘the problem of the twentieth century is the problem of the color line’” (Ladson-Billings and Tate 1995, p. 50). The second proposition that Ladson-Billings and Tate use to support that race continues to be significant in explaining inequity in the United States is that class and gender-based explanations are not powerful enough to explain all the educational differences (or variance) in school experience and achievement between white and students of color: “Class and gender taken alone or together do not account for the high rates of school drop-out, suspension, expulsion and failure among African-American and Latino males” (Ladson-Billings and Tate 1995, p. 51). While Ladson-Billings and Tate do not deny the roles of class and gender, they insist that race matters. To place this long-standing inquiry in a larger context, it is useful to consider that the argument for the centrality of race as a concept for identifying and characterizing the African-American experience began at the opening of the twentieth century by Woodson and Du Bois, and it has continued for 100€ years into the opening of the twenty-first century. Perhaps today, Dewey might find that the United States, as evidenced by its recent presidential election, reveals that growth in democracy has begun. As philosopher David Hansen suggests, “If human beings are not predetermined entities with presented destinies, but rather are persons who can influence their very nature through education and social interaction, then it behooves them to learn to question, to criticize, to converse and to be modest and fair-minded in their claims” (Hansen 2006, p. 8). Critical reflection is the privilege and obligation of all.
Dewey’s Attitudes: – The Methods of/for Reflective Inquiry There is an old saying to the effect that it is not enough for a man (sic) to be good, he must be good for something. The something...is capacity to live as a social member so that what he gets from living with others balances what he contributes. What he gets and gives is not external possessions, but a ... more intense, disciplined and expanding realization of meanings. (Dewey 1944/1916, p. 359)
In How We Think, Dewey discourses on reflective thinking and its phases. He also points to the powerful influence wielded by social influences that have actually nothing to do with the truth or falsity and addresses issues of epistemology and their complexity. “Some of the dispositions that give these influences power to limit and mislead thought are good in themselves.... Reverence for parents and regard for those placed in authority are in the abstract surely valuable traits. Yet ... they are among the chief forces that determine beliefs.... The desire to be in harmony with others is itself a desirable trait. But it may lead a person too readily to fall in with the prejudices of others. Because of the importance of attitudes, the ability to train thought is not achieved merely by knowledge of the best forms of thought” (Dewey 1998/1933, p. 28–29). Dewey warns that the cultivation of the best attitudes favorable to the best methods of inquiry cannot be guaranteed by knowledge alone. “Knowledge of the methods alone will not suffice; there must be the desire, the will to employ them. This desire is an affair of personal disposition” (Dewey 1998/1933, pp. 29–30). But dispositions alone will not suffice. “There must be understanding of the forms and techniques that are the channels
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through which these attitudes operate to best advantage” (Dewey 1933, p. 30). Dewey then points to three attitudes he believes need to be cultivated. As we turn to examine these attitudes it is useful to note as well, how Dewey treats these attitudes and changes in his discussion of them over time. Dewey identifies attitudes as crucial to reflective inquiry in two of his major texts: his classic book, How We Think, published in 1910 and 1933 and in Democracy and Education, acclaimed as one of the most important books ever written about education, published in 1916 in the midst of World War I. In How We Think, Dewey identifies three attitudes necessary to engaging in reflective inquiry: being open-minded, open to new ideas and free from prejudice, partisanship, and such other habits which close the mind and make it unwilling to consider new problems and entertain new ideas; being whole-hearted, fully committed to a task, throwing oneself into it with a whole heart; and Dewey’s third attitude is being responsible, taking responsibility for what one has learned through investigation, especially for the actions that should follow from what was learned. Dewey asserts that the “intellectualy irresponsible do not ask for the meaning of what they learn, in the sense of what difference it makes to the rest of their beliefs and to their actions” (Dewey 1933, p. 28–34). In this text, Dewey identifies these attitudes as the ones favorable to the use of the best methods of inquiry and testing. He stresses: No one can think about everything, to be sure, no one can think about anything without experience and information about it. Nevertheless, there is such a thing as readiness to consider in a thoughtful way the subjects that do come within the range of experience – a readiness that contrasts strongly with the disposition to pass judgment on the basis of mere custom, tradition, prejudice, etc., and thus shun the task of thinking. The personal attitudes that have been named are essential constituents of this general readiness (Dewey 1933, p. 34).
Dewey repeats his commitment to these attitudes in Democracy and Education. However, here he adds a fourth attitude, directness – believing that one’s actions can make a difference. Significantly, he also adds another name, enlarges the scope of these attitudes to identify them as the methods of learning inquiry. And he casts all of this within the last chapter of the book, titled, “Theories of Morals.” Interestingly, Dewey argues in the last chapters that philosophy or the pursuit and love of wisdom is another name for the general theory of education. That is, philosophy fundamentally springs from questions regarding human and societal formation. Dewey suggests that knowledge in actual life functions as a verb rather than as a noun. It has everything to do with the quality of life, with inquiry.
Conclusion: The Widening and Deepening of Conscious Life To inquire is to take on the curiosity of those who search. There is no knowledge outside of inquiry or outside of surprise. (Freire 1996, p. 173)
This chapter has explored four principles for a pedagogy of reflective inquiry. The goal is to offer readers the possibility to consider the validity of the principles as pedagogies. It is not that there are no other candidates to put forward as pedagogies. Rather, it is to examine the ones identified, and test their utility for engaging in inquiry, that is, having a perspective towards knowing; making investigations into your own practice; engaging in an inquiry stance to interrogate the social, political and cultural contexts of learning; and adopting attitudes necessary to acquiring the methods of inquiry. Dewey suggests a rubric for assessment, the idea of “the widening and deepening of conscious life.” We will want to ask, what effect might these pedagogies have, on the deepening of conscious life? Dewey elaborates on consciousness.
2â•… Reflective Inquiry: Foundational Issues We are only too given to making an entity out of the abstract noun “consciousness.” We forget that it comes from the adjective “conscious.” To be conscious is to be aware of what we are about; conscious signifies the deliberate, observant, planning truths of activity. Consciousness is nothing which we have which gazes idly on the scene around one or which has impressions made upon it by physical things; it is a name for the purposeful quality of an activity, for the fact that it is directed by an aim. Put the other way about, to have an aim is to act with meaning, not like an automatic machine, it is to mean to do something and to perceive the meaning of things in the light of that intent. (Dewey 1916)
Here I want to explore the role of reflective inquiry and consciousness towards meaning, considering the four candidate pedagogies.
Having a Perspective on Knowing David Boud and his colleagues – early exponents of reflective inquiry – ask the question: “Why is it that conscious reflection is necessary? Why can it not occur effectively at the unconscious level?” They also answer their query: “It can and it does occur, but these unconscious processes do not allow us to make active and aware decisions about our learning. It is only when we bring our ideas to our consciousness that we can evaluate them and begin to make choices about what we will and will not do” (Boud et€al. 1996, p. 33). These authors go on: “For these reasons it is important for the learner to be aware of the role of reflection in learning, and how the processes involved can be facilitated.” Considering the learner in reflective learning, the authors argue that the characteristics and the aspirations of the learner are the most important factors in the learning process. They quote George Kelly, who, in his personal construct theory “refers to the individual and the unique perception of each person.... In Kelly’s view objects, events, or concepts are only meaningful when seen from the perspective of the person construing their meaning. This suggests that techniques to assist reflection need to be applied to the constructions of the learner, rather than those of the teacher” ( Boud et€al. 1996, p. 37). We will want to ask our own students, their views of themselves as knowers: “What do they rely on and why? How consistently?” Examining the schemes of Perry and Belenky et€al. would allow students this kind of exploration. One of the most important concerns of adult educators for adult learners is that they be freed from habitual ways of thinking and acting, what adult educator Jack Mezirow has termed “the need for perspective transformation.” It can occur in a sudden insight or through a slow series of transitions. Mezirow’s research describes the possible dynamics through which this can happen, insights on how to engage reflection towards understanding. For Jurgen Habermas (1984) reflective activity of critical intent is the heart of the process which can free the mind (Habermas 1984, p. 52). Thus, the idea of a perspective towards knowing is an explicit acknowledgment of coming to consciousness, of oneself as a knower.
Making Investigations into One’s Own Practice A primary avenue for practitioners to engage in inquiry is through investigations into their own professional practices. This area of research, usually referred to as self-study, has advanced so rapidly some claim that it is the fastest growing area of research in teaching and teacher education. The recent publication of the Handbook of Self-Study is an important compendium of the field and a good starting place for exploring on-going research.
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Taking on an Inquiry Stance to Interrogate the Contexts of Learning Other researchers find a similar emphasis in the work of Paulo Freire (1970), although he stresses cultural factors rather than psychological ones. Personal meanings or constructs can only be comprehended only in their unique social and political context. Critical theory through Freire promotes critique, analysis of culture, attention to discourse and the recasting of the teacher as an intellectual or cultural worker. Critical social theory, a relatively new theory in education, some argue, is traceable to Dewey but was clearly popularized by Paulo Freire, without question the “most influential theorist of critical or liberatory education” (Weiler 1994, p. 13 ) whose name has “become synonymous with the very concept of critical pedagogy” (Giroux 1993, p. 177). As Leonardo suggests, “Without suggesting that Freire accomplished his goals before he died in 1997, his work became the fulcrum for a Critical Social Theory program in education that searched for a proper reconciliation between structural conditions and human agency” (Leonardo 2004, p. 12). Leonardo goes on to suggest the implications of this: “Pedagogically speaking, quality education begins with a language of critique, at the heart of which is a process that exposes the contradictions of social life. Through critical classroom discourse, teachers assist students not only in becoming comfortable with criticisms but adept at it” (Leonardo 2004, p. 12).
Adopting Attitudes Necessary for Acquiring the Methods of Inquiry Identifying attitudes necessary for inquiry makes possible their cultivation through the several approaches Dewey himself advises. Engaging in the attitudes is a way of learning the methods of how it is done. Research today leaves in no doubt, the challenges to learning how to engage in reflective inquiry and prompts acknowledgment and careful consideration of the attitudes Dewey promotes, they are clearly accessible even if challenging, a way to begin. The four proposed pedagogies have already been and are being tested with students and teachers. They have been and are promoted. But as we examine their sources today and the imperatives they are couched in, it is clear their promoters see them as not mere suggestions. Rather, they urge their careful investigation.
Afterword Lorna Hutson in her book, The Invention of Suspicion, documents the enormous contribution of schooling to both the emerging legal system and to the development and achievement of realism in sixteenth century English drama. In addition to the forensic developments in the law, author Hutson cites the role of rhetoric, the revival of classical oratory, with its forensic emphases. Narratives embedded in great speeches needed to be unpacked to reveal relevant facts, a believable story, or a debatable one. We still interrogate narratives and their evidence when politicians speak, or even neighbors. Most significant for sixteenth century England is that the audience participating in a drama or an oration, confronting a mystery or a puzzle had a way to do that, to interrogate it. Today there is a heightened need to achieve a similar goal: To interrogate critical stories of all kinds – local, international, in our own and others’ cultures, politics or the ways of living. I would argue we have a method or methods of reflective inquiry, in fact, several already in use. In this chapter, we have seen that a perspective towards knowing is a tool
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of interpretation for unpacking the discoveries of an inquiry stance, of interrogating “dogmatic thinkers who believe they are the namers of truth” or unpacking the excesses of certainty (Freire 1998, p. 87). What is imperative is participating in these, actually using them, committed to reflective inquiry learning in and out of today’s classrooms, and taking responsibility for what has been learnt while efforts continue relatively to broadening and deepening the meaning through being wide-awake.
References Angelo, T., & Cross, P. K. (1993). Classroom assessment techniques: A Handbook for college teachers. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Belenky, M., Clinchy, B., Goldberger, N., & Tarule, J. (1986). Women’s ways of knowing: The development of self, voice and mind. New York: Basic Books. Bok, D. (2006). Our underachieving schools. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Boud, D., Keogh, R., & Walker, D. (1996). Promoting Reflective Learning: A Model. In R. Edwards, A. Hanson, & P. Rogoff (Eds). London & New York: Open University. Clinchy, B. V. (2003). An epistemological approach to the teaching of narrative research. In R. Josselson, A. Lieblich & D. P. Mc Adams (Eds.), Up close and personal. Washington, D.C: American Psychological Research Association. Cochran-Smith, M. (2004). Walking the road: Race, diversity, and social justice in teacher education. NY: Teachers College Press. Cochran-Smith, M., & Lytle, S. (1999). Relationship of knowledge and practice: Teacher learning in communities. In A. Iran-Nejad & C. Pearson (Eds.), Review of research in education (Vol. 24, pp. 249–306). Washington, DC: American Educational Research Association. Collins, P. H. (1998). Fighting Words ,University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis. Collins, P. H. (1991/2000). Black feminist thought: Knowledge, consciousness, and the politics of empowerment (2nd ed.). New York: Routledge Darkubg Gannibdm K, (2002). Learning to Teach for Social Justice. Dewey, J. (1998/1933). How we think. Boston: Houghton-Mifflin Co. Dewey. J. (1944/1916). Democracy and education. An introduction to the philosophy of education. New York: The Free Press. Du Bois, W.E.B. (1998/1980). The Souls of Black Folks Penguin Press, NY. Freire, P. (1970). The pedagogy of the oppressed. New York: Seabury. Freire, P. (1973). Education for critical consciousness. New York: Continuum Publishing Co. Freire, P. (1996). Letters to Cristina: Reflections on my life and work. Routledge: New York & London. Freire, P. (1998). Pedagogy of Freedom: Ethics. Democracy and Civic Courage. Rowman & Littlefield, NY. Fraser, J. (1997). Reading, writing and justice: School reform as if democracy matters. Albany, NY: Suny. Giroux, H. (1993). Paulo Freire and the politics of postcolonialism. In P. Mc Lauren and P. Leonard (Eds.), Paulo Freire: A Critical Encounter, (pp. 177–188), Routledge, NewYork. Glass, R. D. (2001). On Paulo Freire’s philosophy of praxis and the foundations of liberation education. Educational Researcher, 30(2), 15–25. Habermas, J. (1984). The theory of communication action, Voume One: Reason and the ratinalization of society (T. Mc Carthy, trans.), Beacon Press, Boston. Halton, C. & Lyons, N. (2006). Masters in Research by Portfolio Research Project: Unpublished research interviews and project papers, in possession of Carmel Halton, University College Cork. Halton,C. & Lyons, N. (2007). Educating practitioners for reflective inquiry: The contribution of a portfolio process to new ways of knowing. In C. O’Farrell (Editor), . Teaching Portfolio in Ireland: A Handbook, Trinity College, Dublin. Hansen, D. T. (2006). John Dewey and our educational prospect. Albany, NY: State University of New York. Holbrook, P. (2008, July 18 ). Like an old tale. Times Literary Supplement, p. 8. Hofer, B. (2002). Personal epistemology as a psychological and educational construct: An introduction. In B. Hofer & P. Pintrich (Eds.), Personal epistemology: The psychology of beliefs about knowledge and knowing. Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum Associates. Hofer, B., & Pintrich, P. (eds). (2002). Personal epistemology: The psychology of beliefs about knowledge and knowing. Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum Associates. Huber, M., & Hutchings, P. (2005). The Advancement of Learning: Building the Teaching Commons, Jossey-Bass, San Francisco, CA.
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Chapter 3
The Role of Descriptive Inquiry in Building Presence and Civic Capacity Carol Rodgers
It was so amazing to me how much I actually learned from my own students. Oftentimes they would express thoughts and ideas that I had never even thought about. In addition to that I learned so much about my own learning from trying to teach them. …the way things are taught really needs to coincide with the way the students learn. By allowing opportunities for the students to give me feedback on their own learning, I was much more able to become a part of the learning process (Charlotte, student teacher of English, 2007). I don’t claim that I cracked the case on the often-enigmatic student I observed, but by the end of the year, she was glad to put her arm around me as we posed for pictures. More importantly, I began to realize why history interested her so much more than English, which is to say, I could begin to learn with her in a way that she found engaging (Bronwyn, student teacher of English, 2007). I no longer see myself as the dictator of how learning occurs, but as the facilitator who assists in its happening. …I [now] enter classrooms looking for my student to tell me what they need [in order] to learn and I use my expertise to provide an environment in which they can achieve that (Jacquie, student teacher of English, 2007).
Introduction This chapter explores the relationships among inquiry, presence, and civic capacity in teaching. More specifically, it looks at the critical skill of descriptive inquiry, its place in the larger scheme of reflection, and its role in the cultivation of presence and civic capacity. Each of these concepts is rich in meaning. I argue that without the ability to be present to our students, and to take action derived from evidence and active, shared inquiry, we risk proceeding solely on the basis of assumptions about the other, or, mindlessly, turning decisions over to externally imposed mandates or norms of “best practice.” In the process, we strip others (and ourselves!) of both their moral agency in the world, that is, their “civic capacity,” and their humanity. In this chapter, drawing largely on John Dewey and Patricia
C. Rodgersâ•› Department of Educational Theory and Practice, University of Albany, State University of New YorkAlbany, NY, USA e-mail:
[email protected]
N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_3, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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Carini, I explore two modes of inquiry in which presence might be cultivated and civic capacity developed: the descriptive review of children and children’s work (Himley and Carini 2000; Carini 2001; Rodgers 2006b), and descriptive feedback (Rodgers 2006b). I begin with definitions of description and inquiry, which I place in the larger scheme of reflection, followed by definitions of presence and civic capacity. I follow these definitions with a discussion of two forms of descriptive inquiry – the descriptive review and descriptive feedback. From there I look at my students’ – all pre-service masters level teachers – work with these processes and what they learned. I conclude by returning to a discussion of what it means to educate for presence and civic capacity. I claim that the discipline of descriptive inquiry is a means of acknowledging and drawing upon the vast capacity of all teachers and learners, to shape their individual and collective experience as human beings.
Definitions: Description, Inquiry, Presence, and Civic Capacity Description On a very basic level, description can be understood in contrast to interpretation. Description pertains to something directly observed and serves as evidence for a subsequent interpretation. To use an example from Dewey (1933), it is the difference between saying “The sun has gone behind a dark cloud,” and “It’s going to rain.” The first is descriptive, and provides evidence for the second, which is interpretive. As Dewey writes, moving from the first thought to the next “involves noting or perceiving a fact, followed by something else that is not observed but that is brought to mind, suggested by the thing seen. … the thing seen is regarded as in some way the ground or basis of belief in the suggested thing; it possesses the quality of evidence” (italics in original, p. 10). This seems fairly straightforward, but Patricia Carini, whose work with descriptions of children and children’s work is explored later in this chapter, points to the demands that careful description makes on the person doing the describing. In her short essay entitled, “Meditation: On Description” she writes, Describing I pause, and pausing, attend. Describing requires that I stand back and consider. Describing requires that I not rush to judgment or conclude before I have looked. Describing makes room for something to be fully present. Describing is slow, particular work, I have to set aside familiar categories for classifying or generalizing. I have to stay with the subject of my attention. I have to give it time to speak, to show itself (p. 163).
To describe, as Carini suggests, is careful, deliberate work requiring patience and discipline. An exercise from a recent class serves as an example. I had students look closely at a black and white photograph of the actor Johnny Depp sitting at a piano. I initially asked them simply to jot down what they noticed; then I asked them to identify what of their list was descriptive and what was interpretive. As we went around the circle, it soon became clear how many of the things they thought were descriptive, were, in fact, not directly observable or were dependent upon cultural or other contextual information or assumptions. For example, they described Depp’s hair as “long.” “Long” depended on many things, however: his gender, how other men wear their hair, the fashion norms of the time, etc. When pushed to be more descriptive, they saw much more: his hair came to just above his shoulders, it was parted on the right, it was layered, dark, shiny, and appeared uncombed. This provided a much more accurate – and rich – description. Needless to say, to describe Depp as handsome, sexy, or even as a piano player veers into the realm of interpretation and judgment. The more my students immersed themselves in the particulars of what they saw, the richer and more complex the object of their description became. Words like handsome and sexy become unnecessary and even irrelevant.
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The point for both Dewey and Carini is that description keeps the describer from rushing to judgment, from jumping to conclusions. It is also what prevents us from what might feel like careful deliberation but is not. That is, from carefully considering too narrow a range of evidence; the ensuing thought may be “reflective,” but totally wrong. As James Garrison puts it, “the foreground of cognitive thought can operate perfectly and yet the inquiry fails. We are used to the linguistic and logical manipulation of ideas, but not the subtle task of creating appropriate description” (personal communication, 9/28/2008). The deliberate act of description slows down the rush of one’s thinking and makes space to consider the full complexity of a situation; it makes space, as Carini suggests, for “something to be fully present.”
Inquiry To define inquiry I again turn to John Dewey (1933). Elsewhere I have equated reflection and inquiry (Rodgers 2002b). Although I think this is essentially correct, I also am beginning to see inquiry as a more vigorous word than the more contemplative “reflection,” and a better word to characterize that part of reflection that is the active searching for evidence. Inquiry involves “observation,” “deliberate looking” and “hunting” in search of an “external basis on which to rest a belief” (1933, p. 13). It is joined at the hip with description. Dewey (1916, 1933) reminds us that the act of inquiry requires certain attitudes, among them open-mindedness, whole-heartedness, directness, and responsibility. Briefly, Dewey characterizes open-mindedness as “hospitality” to new ways of seeing and understanding. He makes a delightful distinction between open-mindedness and empty-mindedness; open-mindedness is not, as he puts it, a matter of saying, “Come right in; there is nobody at home” (1933, p. 30)! In other words, open-mindedness is not a blind acceptance of all ideas without intelligent critique. Rather, it means a willingness to entertain different perspectives, coupled with an acceptance of the “possibility of error even in the beliefs that are dearest to us (1933, p. 30),” and acknowledgment of the limitations of one’s own perspective. Carini (2001), too, is always careful to say that even “when I see a lot, I [learn that I] am still seeing only a little and partially” (p. 163). Whole-heartedness, also called “single-mindedness” (1916), indicates a genuine, no holds barred commitment to understanding and right action. Without whole-heartedness, there exists indifference, and the energy to observe and gather information is not there. Directness, says Dewey (1916), can best be described by what it is not. It is not selfconsciousness, distractedness, or constant preoccupation with how others perceive one’s ideas or performance. Rather, it indicates a confidence, but not a cockiness, that is almost childlike in its genuineness, yet adult in its lack of self-absorption. It bespeaks an attitude of trust in the validity of one’s own experience without being distracted by the anticipation of judgment by others. Finally, responsibility points to the fact that our thoughts lead to action in the world. Because these actions impact the world beyond ourselves we have a moral obligation to take care that the conclusions we come to are deeply grounded in evidence and have carefully considered as much evidence (and not just evidence we “hold dear”) as possible.
Descriptive Inquiry and Reflection We now come to the term “descriptive inquiry” and its place in the act of reflection. My picture of reflection (see Fig.€3.1) is derived from John Dewey (1916, 1933, 1938)
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The next experience… Taking intelligent action Presence in Experience
REFLECTION/ INQUIRY
Analysis
Descriptive Inquiry
Descriptive Revi ew
Descriptive Feedback
Fig.€3.1╅ A picture of reflection
and consists of four phases, beginning with presence in experience, and moving toward taking intelligent action (Rodgers 2002a). While the phases are presented in sequence, their course frequently doubles back and repeats, as more evidence is gathered and new analyses are drawn. The first phase, presence in experience, happens when the one reflecting is in the moment, or, as Schön (1983) referred to it, “reflection-in-action.” The more “present” to that experience a person is, the more they see. Put in scientific terms, the more present they are, the more data they gather. I say more about this below. The second phase, what I refer to as descriptive inquiry, houses the two descriptive practices (descriptive review and descriptive feedback) that form the heart of this chapter. The third phase, analysis, is only as solid as the data upon which it is based. It is in this phase that the data is sorted, connected, organized and reorganized, themes developed, and tentative conclusions drawn. The fourth phase, intelligent action, is only as intelligent as the analysis. It is action that is based upon the thoughtful conclusions that have been settled upon in the analysis phase. “Intelligent action” is distinct from “routine action” in that it is well-considered rather than done out of habit – a response rather than a reaction. Still, it is an experiment and subject to further reflection. It bears repeating that reflection is different from other kinds of thinking (stream of consciousness, belief, or imagination) (Dewey 1933). It is disciplined, structured, rigorous, and deliberate and generally not done while driving, chopping vegetables, or taking a shower, as convenient as that would be. Dewey writes that it is also incomplete if not done in the company of others. We are limited by our own perspectives and need the input of others. Additionally, it is in communication with others that our own thoughts take definable shape and become more objectively visible to ourselves, and therefore open to revision and refinement. The purpose of reflection Dewey makes clear: it is in the service of individual growth, and the ongoing creation and sustenance of a democratic society. The growth of the individual – his or her sense of their own voice and authority as an actor in and on the world with an awareness of his or her connection to it and to others – is an essential piece in a healthy democracy. Both self and democracy are always in the making and reflection is the engine that keeps them both going.
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Descriptive inquiry, then, is that part of reflection that focuses on the active searching for and gathering of evidence in the service of a thoughtful analysis and intelligent action for the purposes of growth in the context of an evolving democracy. In this chapter, I put forth two processes of descriptive inquiry, the descriptive review and descriptive feedback. These processes are, it could be said, small stuff, techniques. But they are connected to larger purposes. They have shown themselves to be two effective means of cultivating teacher presence, which I see as necessary for student growth, and civic capacity, which is necessary for democracy.
Presence My colleague, Miriam Raider-Roth, and I have defined presence as “a state of alert awareness, receptivity, and connectedness to the mental, emotional, and physical interactions of the individual and the group with the world and each other, and the ability to respond with a considered and compassionate best next step” (Rodgers and Raider-Roth 2006). It is the first phase of reflection and also embodies the whole of reflection within it. That is, when the teacher is present in the classroom she takes in as much of what is happening as possible, gathering “data” about the unfolding of an activity, her students, their needs, their sense-making, their interactions, and so forth so that she can take, in the moment, intelligent action. To use a metaphor from physics, presence is both wave and particle. Of course, the opportunity to see depends on the ability and the freedom to observe. Logically, the more student activity there is to observe (and the less the teacher is at the center of the activity), the more data is available. The trick for the teacher is to do it all in the moment. Reflection-on-action (after the moment, and out of the action) as Schön called it, is practice for reflection-in-action (presence). The discipline of descriptive inquiry, in particular, trains a teacher to see, so that, in the moment, she listens and looks for and, most importantly, acts on as much evidence as possible. Dewey makes a useful distinction between acting on slim evidence, which he calls “recognition,” and acting on thick evidence, which he calls “perception.” A teacher who is present does not stop considering evidence at the point of mere recognition. That is, he doesn’t assume that, for example, a child who doesn’t hand in homework doesn’t care. Rather, he stays with the child, the child’s work (or lack of work) until enough evidence is there to see through to the essential truth of the situation. This is the difference between recognition and perception. “Mere recognitions,” he says, “occur only when we are occupied with something else than the object or person recognized. … In recognition we fall back, as upon stereotype, upon some previously formed scheme” (pp. 24, 52). We “recognize” something in service of meeting a goal quite apart from knowing the thing at hand. Perception, or truly seeing something, evokes not just the thing itself, but also its past, its connection to other aspects of life, its patterns, its continuities. To perceive is to study and “take in” to, according to the etymology of the word, “thoroughly lay hold of.” As Dewey writes, “The perceived object or scene is emotionally pervaded throughout” (p. 53). In other words, there is a “staying with” the thing such that it has penetrated and changed the observer. So the act of not handing in homework becomes fraught with a complexity that speaks of multiple threads worth examining. If a teacher stays with the situation long enough the right action will present itself. When one slows down to inquire into what those threads might be and where they might lead, the possibilities for skillful response increase. Even though this is not possible to do with every student in every instance, the very awareness that each student is woven of multiple threads may thwart the
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temptation to stop at mere recognition. It is the purpose of descriptive inquiry to train perception, to exercise the brain to see more, to withhold interpretation and judgment, to “take in” to ourselves what we perceive. When we do this, there results a certain intimacy with the object of our perception. As Carini (2001) notes, we come into relationship with it and “what we are in relationship to cannot be easily or lightly dismissed” (p. 163).
Civic Capacity Broadly speaking, civic capacity refers to one’s ability to contribute to the sustenance and growth of a democracy. Dewey cited two criteria: the growth of the individual as a human being and the contributions of the individual to the collective society, or what he refers to as “associated living,” in ways that broaden and strengthen those connections between them. School, he states, must be a place where the strengths of the individual are nurtured through interactions with the world. This is how the self grows. In turn, Dewey believed that this “generous self” would contribute to the whole that is a democracy. If the individual is to grow and contribute, he must have a sense of his own agency, have a voice that is heard, and belong to a community that values that individual voice and the contributions of each of its members. Thus, I am concerned primarily with three aspects of civic capacity: voice, agency, and community. Much has been written about each of these, but for the purposes of this chapter, I offer the following working definitions. In my search for a clear definition of voice I found Mary Meares’ (2003) characterization from a study on the workplace to be most helpful. Voice, she writes: …is an emotional and intellectual ability to express one’s own thoughts and perceptions and have them acknowledged and acted upon. This is a two way process in which one person articulates an idea and a second person responds (a sender and a receiver). (…) It is important to point out that this is a shared responsibility, not solely that of the speaker. Lack of listening and hearing concerns on the part of the audience deprives the speaker of voice (p. 4).
While children may have a voice in their classes in terms of choices they make among a range of activities (choice time), or assignments, it is remarkably rare for them to have a voice in terms of how teaching and learning, broadly speaking, are shaped. Even in class discussions, unless students voice what is considered “correct” they are often passed over. There is little time for inquiry into other possible answers or items not included in the curriculum teachers must “cover” or deem “appropriate” (Fine and Weis 2003; Simon 2001). Without voice there is little chance that students feel much of a sense of their own agency in school. For a concise definition of agency I again borrow from Meares (2003). Agency, she writes, is “one’s sense of control over a situation, feeling like you can make a difference” (p. 4). Similarly, Sewall (1992) refers to agency as the “efficacy of human action” (p. 1). More broadly, the notion of agency speaks to the kind of learning that Dewey valued where the individual acts upon the world and the world, in turn, both changes and is changed by the individual. He called this “interaction” (between the self and a “situation”) and asserted that the very identity of the self depends upon it. “According to Dewey, the self dwells in situations, and it is through them that it substantiates, literally, its very identity as a self, as a person. … Through the self’s agency, the world becomes a scene of acts and objects. … [The] world becomes transformed when the self interacts with it in ways that convert raw surroundings into environments and situations” (Hansen 2006, p. 174). For a working definition of community I turn to science and the concept of ecology where a community is defined as “a group of interdependent organisms inhabiting the
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same region and interacting with each other” (http://wordnet.princeton.edu/). This definition echoes Dewey’s (1916) characterization of a democracy as “a mode of associated living, of conjoint communicated experience” (p. 93). A community is seen as evolving and dependent upon the actions and interactions of the individuals that comprise it. In a democratic community, there is a moral dimension as well, where the wellbeing of each individual is the concern of the rest of the community, and the growth of the collective is dependent upon the growth of each individual. Finally, to return to voice and agency: we have said that if the individual lacks a sense of his own voice, he is deprived of the power of his own agency. When voice is silenced and agency thwarted, individual contributions cease and the growth of the individual, and consequently, that of the group, are threatened. Civic capacity depends on the healthy functioning of all three. What follows is the description of two processes of descriptive inquiry that engage both teachers and students in active reflection upon their own growth and the growth of the classroom community to which they belong. The first, descriptive review of children and their works, focuses on the development of a teacher’s capacity for presence. The second, descriptive feedback, explores the development of voice, agency, and community.
Two Processes of Descriptive Inquiry Descriptive Review of Children and Children’s Work Patricia Carini and her colleagues at the Prospect Center for Education and Research in North Bennington, Vermont have, since 1965, developed descriptive processes that focus on students and students’ work.1 These processes bring teachers in close contact with who the student is, who the student is becoming, and what the student makes and does. The descriptive review of a child looks closely at a five overlapping areas: a child’s physical appearance and gesture, her connection to others, her strong interests and preferences, her disposition and temperament, and her modes of thinking and learning. The descriptive review of children’s work looks closely at what children create: written work, artwork, constructions (blocks, forts, imaginary play, etc.), music, and so forth. (In short, the products of their transactions with the world.) Rather than focusing on students’ “weaknesses” and “deficiencies” – what is not there – they instead shine a light on students’ existing strengths, and the value that they add to the world. Working from a phenomenological perspective, with attention to the individual rather than generalizations about, for example, all 8-year-olds, or all students with ADHD, or all students of a certain race or class, they seek to identify what makes each child unique and what that child contributes to the world. At the same time, by looking closely at one child and/or one child’s work (especially over time) teachers come to see the value in all children – in all people. This kind of descriptive inquiry is designed to cultivate an appreciation of both the child and the child’s works, and deepen an awareness of one’s inability to capture or fix in time a human being. The process highlights the complexity, continual transformation, continuities, and growth of each human being over time.2 â•›Many similar processes have been developed by others since, including Collaborative Assessment (Seidel 1998), the Tuning Protocol (Blythe et€al.), and Critical Friends Groups. However, the Prospect processes are distinct in that they are committed to being processes always under examination and in the making, rather than protocols, which are more fixed. 2 â•›For an in-depth description of the descriptive review process please see Rodgers (2006b). 1
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Descriptive Feedback Descriptive feedback, in contrast to the work of descriptive review, which is based almost entirely on observation and description, seeks to unearth what we cannot know merely through looking. To get at the aspects of students’ experiences that can’t necessarily be observed, or to confirm or disconfirm what has been observed, teachers can use a process called “descriptive feedback.”3 Descriptive feedback is a process whereby teachers ask students, through a series of fairly structured questions (What did you learn? How do you know you’ve have learned? What helped and hindered your learning? What would help more? How did you feel?) about their experiences as learners before, during, and after learning activities (see Rodgers 2006a for a fully developed explanation of descriptive feedback). By engaging in this kind of dialogue with students, teachers, who must listen rather than talk, and learn rather than teach, not only learn what students understand and don’t but also establish a relationship of trust and openness that values students as equal, and equally responsible, partners in the teaching-learning endeavor. The key to descriptive feedback is that it is descriptive rather than judgmental and that is inquires into students’ learning rather than a teacher’s teaching. A teacher’s teaching is certainly implicated but in no way is descriptive feedback putting student in the role of judge. Rather, they learn to discern the quality of their own and others’ learning experiences – what it is that helps and hinders learning and what would better support it.
Methods and Data Sources Over the past several years, I have collected student work from my classes at the University at Albany. My students are pre-service teachers, in-service teachers, and doctoral students of education. I collect this work as part of ongoing reflection on my own teaching. My reflection is not a bounded action research project with formulated research questions nor a traditional qualitative study. Rather, it is simply an ongoing part of my teaching where reflection occurs from week to week and year to year. I share and check this work with my students and with colleagues and purposely look for student input that throws my assumptions into question. The work I have collected consists of descriptive reviews written by my students, their reflections on the descriptive review process, their final learning statements, and transcripts of feedback sessions that my students held with their students. The courses that I teach are all pass/fail and all student work receives only comments from me and no form of graded evaluation. In this chapter, I will be using work from my most recent classes of pre-service and pre-tenured teachers. As I read through their work I paid particular attention to where there was an intellectual and emotional weight and intensity to their words and to stories that bore out their claims. I tended to ignore passages that felt like repetitions from the readings or class discussion, and attended closely to passages that bore the imprint of the writer’s self (e.g. use of “I” and “my” rather than “the teacher” or “you” or the impersonal “we”), and conveyed some kind of emotional heft. It is not clear at this point if and how what they learned in the spring of 2007 has endured over time, or how it might have changed and developed according to their present circumstances in schools. While all my students
â•›I am, as always, grateful to my former colleagues at the School for International Training (SIT) in Brattleboro, Vermont for teaching me the value of feedback. It was introduced to SIT by Caleb Gattegno in the early 1970s and further developed at SIT under the name “structured feedback,” a term coined by Kathleen Graves and Donald Freeman in the 1980s.
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engaged in descriptive reviews, it is also important to note that not all students engaged in gathering descriptive feedback, even though it was formally assigned and a required part of the course. The fact of the matter was that some students felt that the process put them into too vulnerable a position; while I encouraged all students to try it out, I also trusted their sense of what was safe, and did not push it.4
The Work Each year I teach two versions of a class called “Understanding Learning and Teaching,” one to pre-service high school teachers (of all academic disciplines), and one to in-service practicing teachers in all subject areas and grades (including adult education). The courses vary in many ways, but in each, students are asked to conduct a full descriptive review of one of their students, a description of student work, and to engage in ongoing descriptive feedback with their students.
Descriptive Reviews The descriptive review is done over a period of about five weeks. My students generally choose a student to describe who either peaks their interest or one about whom they know little. Generally, there is a question they have about the student that the review may serve to help answer. Questions can be as broad as “How does ______ make sense of the world?” or as specific as “What would help ______ to feel more a part of the group?” or “How can I engage ______ in math?” I try to steer students clear of questions that begin, “How can I make _____ do (something I want them to do)?” and instead focus on understanding the child’s experience from the child’s perspective. Each week students write one portion of the five portions of the review (physical appearance and gesture, connection to others, strong interests and preferences, disposition and temperament, and modes of thinking and learning), bring that to class and share it with a small group of two or three of their peers. The task of the rest of the small group is to listen attentively, and then ask for further details: stories that illustrate and serve as further evidence, and missing details. (For example, if they describe their student as “happy,” the group might ask how that is shown in the student’s physical body – their movement, their face, eyes, voice tone and volume, in their interaction with others, or in the work that they do). In other words, to engage in descriptive inquiry with the presenting teacher. The teacher then revises what she has written before moving onto the next portion. The following week they go through the same process until at the end of five weeks they have a fully developed portrait of their student. These sometimes run as long as 15 pages, though the average length is somewhere around eight or nine. At the end of the semester, one student volunteers to engage in a full review of their student, including describing a piece of their student’s work, with the rest of the class. I assume the role of “chair” of the session. This generally takes a full three hours and includes an uninterrupted description of a child by the teacher, a description of a piece of student work by the group, further inquiry from the group in the form of questions for additional inforÂ� mation and clarification, and, finally, recommendations that address the focusing question/s.5 â•›The internal and external barriers to conducting descriptive feedback remains an area in need of further inquiry. 5 â•›The length of this chapter prohibits a longer, thicker, description of an actual review session. A more fine-toothed account of an actual descriptive review can be found in Rodgers (2006b). 4
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Frequently, in the course of observing the child and writing the review, the student being described seems almost magically to “improve.” Whether this is due to the teacher’s simply seeing more of who the student is, or the student’s response to being attended to and seen more fully (or perhaps the result of both) is unclear, but this kind of “magic” (e.g. a “problem” child suddenly no longer being a problem) is not unusual.
Descriptive Feedback From the first day of class, my students are asked to engage in descriptive feedback with me on their own learning in our class. They do this both in person and, after class, in a public online Blackboard Learning System © space (that is, it is public within the class, but closed to anyone outside the class). From the start, they have a visceral experience of what it feels like to be asked for and to give feedback, and the difference it makes in terms of the formation of our community, the value of their own voice, and their own sense of agency. They nearly always see changes to our curriculum as it unfolds, and in accordance with their feedback. Giving feedback does not come naturally to them. Because most learners (adults and children) have never been asked, and because they also lack a clear awareness of how they learn (because they have seldom been asked to think about it), I do a lot of teaching about what I am looking for at this stage. In effect, I give feedback on their feedback. We begin the course with several classes that focus on their own past learning experiences, as well as on shared, in-class learning experiences (e.g. exploring how mirrors work, reading a poem together, learning a bit of a foreign language) that ask them to articulate their learning process; thus we develop a shared language with which to describe learning. Through this process, they begin to discern the difference between learning and being taught something. About a third of the way through the course, I require them to teach a 10-minute lesson to each other and then to ask each other for feedback. I try to make this as nonthreatening as possible by asking them to come to class prepared to teach a 10-minute lesson about something that has nothing to do with school (e.g. juggling, dance steps, sign language, Origami, etc.). Their task is twofold: (1) to teach the lesson in such a way that their students have direct contact with what they are learning, that is, that their students do something, so that they, the teacher, can actually see their students’ learning and (2) to ask their peers for feedback about their (the peers’) learning once the lesson is over. The point of the feedback is not to evaluate the teaching, but to understand more deeply their students’ experience of learning, and, through a description of that learning to reflect on the effectiveness of their teaching. It is, in fact, reflection/inquiry into both learning and teaching that teachers and students venture into jointly. I have found that asking for feedback – even with a set of questions from which to work – is much more difficult than it might sound. The temptations to veer from staying with the students’ experience are numerous. They include, among others, the temptation to continue to teach instead of listen (especially when students’ understanding is incomplete or lacking entirely), the temptation to explain or justify one’s pedagogical choices, the temptation to feel judged and defensive, and the temptation to feel frustration or disappointment when what students learn (or don’t learn) is not what the teacher had wanted. To stay with students’ experience takes a certain single-mindedness and desire to put the students’ learning first and to understand what they are saying. (I explain these temptations at length in Rodgers 2006a). In preparation for both the reviews and the feedback, I lead my students through a number of exercises to prepare them to discern between description and interpretation/ judgment and to hone their powers of description. We describe pictures and objects (e.g. paintings, photographs, objects of nature) as well as assigned readings (where students must learn to separate their description of what the author says from their own feelings
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about and further analysis of the author’s ideas). Finally, they are sent out into the field to carry out both assignments.
Reports from the Field As a result of this work, several things happen: teachers begin to become more present to their students as complex human beings, as learners, and as “works in progress;” similarly, they begin to see themselves as human, as learners, and as works in progress. Secondly, they find themselves engaged in the process of building a community and curriculum with their students; likewise, their students begin to feel the power of their own voice and the impact their contribution can make on the community of which they are a part. Finally, teachers begin to see themselves as agents of change within their own classrooms. This sense of agency stems, at least in part, from the evidence that has come from looking closely at their students and their students’ work, and from open-minded, respectful listening to their feedback. Ironically, as students give voice to their own experience, teachers find the courage to effect change in their teaching.
Evidence of Presence One of the challenges I have faced in gathering stories that serve as evidence of presence is knowing what to look for. Presence is largely about the quality of attention that a teacher pays her students, and includes both seeing and accepting, with compassion and without judgment, what is: who the student is, what the student does and does not understand, what he can and cannot do, and how he feels. In looking for evidence of presence, one thing that I began to see that “counted” was evidence of an increasingly differentiated view of the group of students in front of them. By looking closely at one child, some teachers became aware that each child was equally complex and promised revelations if they would only look. Similarly, teachers often began to see the “group” not as a faceless, uni-dimensional mass, but as a collection of individuals. Bronwyn,6 an English teacher, put it this way: Looking at one particular student who caught (and frustrated) my attention from the descriptive perspective … allowed me to get a sense of [all] my students from more angles than the front of the classroom, looking down. … each student (and teacher) brings with him/her so many circumstances, beliefs, and learning styles that we might never see if we don’t pay attention (BJ, 2007).
Many teachers referred to how observing one student closely, particularly in the context of activities where students interacted with each other and with subject matter material, allowed them to see the student in greater relief, highlighting their own tendency to make assumptions about students based on only thin slices of evidence. Recognition of their own pre-judgments was another indication of presence. In addition, once teachers started to see their students as interesting people, they are motivated to continue looking, to find out what else was there. They became curious. One teacher, Genevieve, wrote about her initial impressions of one student and how they changed after close observation of that student in interaction with others, particularly during two activities (the “stereotype activity” and “debate day”): My first impression of Fiona, based mostly on her physical appearance, was that she was a shy, quiet, meek girl. Once I began to pay closer attention to [her] actions – particularly her interactions with others, my observations began to paint a different picture of Fiona. Each observation brought new perspectives of her to light. The days of the stereotype activity as well as the debate day were particularly helpful in giving me a more well-rounded view of Fiona. In my eyes, she became a much more powerful individual with a strong disposition (GC, 2007). 6
â•›All names are pseudonyms.
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The more these teachers saw, the more they were able to tailor their teaching to the needs of their students. This became another indicator of presence. Jacquie’s notion of her very role as teacher changed. It is striking to note that Jacquie was looking for her students to tell her what they needed instead of her telling them. She writes: …my understanding of what it means to teach and learn has developed to encompass much more than mere pep and creativity. I have learned that being an educator means working within a community and providing opportunity for the growth of my students’ intelligence. I no longer see myself as the dictator of how learning occurs, but as the facilitator who assists in its happening. (…) I enter classrooms looking for my students to tell me what they need [in order] to learn and I use my expertise to provide an environment in which they can achieve that (JG, 2007).
In fact, the very notion that a “good” teacher should know, by dint of the very fact of their role as “teacher,” what students need gets turned on its head. Good teaching instead becomes a process of observation and inquiry, and taking action based on evidence. Presence, then, is not a mystical, magical, numinous thing. It is a science as much as an art.
Evidence of Civic Capacity Finding evidence of the development of civic capacity (voice, agency, and community) was less of an elusive task, and very encouraging. As teachers came to value their students’ voices through descriptive review and descriptive feedback dialogues, they also came to value their students’ own authority as learners. Students, in effect, became experts from whom these teachers could learn. As such, the teachers came to see their students less as adversaries that needed to be pulled along or controlled than as valuable partners. In recognizing this authority, teachers also became more present to their students as people. The result was a feeling of shared responsibility and community. Marc, a practicing teacher of art at the elementary level, serves as one example. In writing of his experience using feedback with his students, he referred to the “inner teacher” in both himself and his students. Parker Palmer (1998) refers to the “inner teacher” when he writes that “as important as methods may be, the most practical thing we can achieve in any kind of work is insight into what is happening inside us as we do it. ... To educate is to guide students on an inner journey toward more truthful ways of seeing and being in the world” (p. 5). Such a lofty goal falls immediately apart if the classroom itself does not create an environment in which “more truthful ways of seeing and being” are welcome, not solely around subject matter but in regard to the elephant in the room: the shared enterprise of teaching and learning. Marc recognized that his students could keep him in touch with that part of himself and that they themselves had an “inner teacher” that needed to be tapped. As he became present to his students’ experiences as learners, their voices became part of his planning, and the roles of teacher and learner came to be shared. What’s more, they all felt a sense of agency to change the curriculum so that it better met their needs as learners and teachers; they “engaged in new practices, new learning, and new ways of teaching”: The [feedback] process was extremely beneficial and we learned significantly from one another. We both shared equally in assuming the roles of student and teacher. I came away from this feedback session understanding that my students were engaged and learning more when aided by various kinesthetic activities that we participated in during class. … Monday [after Friday’s feedback session] was a day filled with change, not only for myself, but also for my students. We both engaged in new practices, new learning, and new ways of teaching. The inner teacher inside us all had been engaged, and we found integrity in the activities that we shared together. … I have significantly begun to change the way I teach to better the learning of my students (ML, 2007).
Interestingly, and importantly, not only did Marc come to value his students’ voices, so did his students come to value their own voices and feel their own agency as the ways in which Marc taught changed. In fact, it may have been the first time that his students even considered that they possessed the authority to influence their experiences as learners. Alejandro,
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another teacher, recently wrote to me (one year after our class ended) about this same phenomenon in his class: I found that doing something as simple as descriptive feedback was truly eye-opening in that, though I [might be] very content [with] how we did something, the kids [could feel] completely the opposite; the strange thing is, until I took the time to do the formal process of the feedback, they were not willing to point out that they didn’t like – the manner in which I/we were conducting our classes. If anything, I felt descriptive feedback gave them an opportunity to point out and really question how we were doing things and how (if) they were actually learning anything, [and do so] in a very casual, non-invasive manner (Alejandro, 2008).
When Jacquie asked her students for feedback, she heard from one of her students who rarely spoke in class but who, in written feedback said, “I just wish you wouldn’t teach us stuff we already know.” Initially, writes Jacquie, she was hurt by her student’s words and experienced them as an attack. But, she says, “I quickly got over this feeling and remembered that I asked the students to provide me with information and that I could not let it hurt me, but use it to help me grow. I began wondering what she meant by ‘stuff we already know.’” Jacquie went back the following day and sought more feedback, asking them to comment directly to the issue of prior knowledge. I thought long and hard on these responses because they really helped me to understand how my teaching was reaching my students. I did not want to become a teacher so I could stand in front of a classroom and spit out useless information to a bunch of teenagers who have tuned me out. … I am pleasantly surprised by the willingness of the students to help me grow in my profession. After all, I think the reason that the students liked the feedback was similar to the reasons why they, for the most part, liked my unit on short stories; they were given the authority to take control and voice what was important to them (JG, 2007).
The opportunity to act on the world – in this case both the world of literature and the world of their teaching/learning enterprise – empowered both teacher and learners. Students felt a sense of their own agency in the changes they saw Jacquie make, and Jacquie likewise felt empowered to grow with input from her students whom, after all, she was there to serve. Some teachers were able to extend their sense of agency beyond the bounds of the classroom. Alejandro began to see how his responsibility to serve the students’ learning affected his stance toward the tests he was required to give. He asserted his moral authority, to teach in ways that were responsive to his students’ learning. Standardized testing, pre-packaged curriculums, and high-stakes tests are not going anywhere. Teachers must deal with them; but that does not mean that teachers must be controlled by them. To do so is only to let oneself be controlled by excuses. Ultimately, it is the responsibility of teachers to provide the best educational experiences for their students, and making the excuse that the system is too much or too strong is not providing that experience (Italics in original. AF, 2007).
As teachers dialogued with students about their experiences as learners, both parties began to learn about themselves as learners and about teaching and learning in general. One thing students were learning was to distinguish between what it meant to have been taught something and what it meant actually to have learned it. Again Alejandro writes of his first experience using feedback, and the work he did with students to make this distinction. At first, there was some debate over the difference between what was taught and what was learned. Once students were able to clearly see the difference between the two, and begin to think in terms of what genuine learning and understanding really meant, I began to see a type of breakthrough. Rather than giving responses that dealt with the information initially presented, or what they thought I was trying to teach, students began expressing original ideas of things that they actually learned from the lesson (AF, 2007).
This passage raises the potentially political nature of feedback. If students are not able to distinguish between having been taught and having learned, how can they voice their needs as learners? If teaching and learning are conflated, and the teacher has done his job by teaching, then whose fault is it when there is no learning? What better way to keep students compliant than to have them believe that the fault for not learning is theirs?
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It becomes evident here that descriptive feedback is more than polite discussion. Once the truth(s) begin to be told, the potentially subversive nature of feedback becomes evident. It is not for the compliant, but then neither is democracy. As conversations about learning gained focus, teachers and students began to articulate how they felt they learned best. Not surprisingly (to me, that is, but often surprising to the teachers) students indicated that they liked the following: hands-on learning, variety in the types of activities they did less time reading from textbooks, for the teacher to have control over noise levels and acting out, tests that were meaningful rather than rote, making connections among discreet aspects of subject matter, doing more with less, and group work that was balanced with individual work. Importantly, this feedback was not from a supervisor or from me, but from the kids themselves, and could not easily be dismissed. As a result, practice began to change. For example, after feedback from her students, Abigail, a Spanish teacher, realized that they were asking her to assume her authority as a teacher, something she had been reluctant to do, for fear of creating bad feelings. She writes, I was also surprised that so many students commented on my lack of control of the noise level in the classroom. I am glad that they mentioned it, though. I was afraid to reprimand those who were talking too many times for fear of further disrupting my lesson and having them harbor hard feelings against me. I now realize that I am the teacher, and I think this lesson is important, and that the students need to listen to it. I feel like the students are even asking me now to control the classroom, and to quiet them (AB, 2007).
Paradoxically, it was in making themselves vulnerable that the teachers in this study found their own voice and authority. When their actions were grounded in what students knew, needed, and said they valued, there was reason for confidence. Charlotte, an English teacher, writes of the growth she experienced as the result of engaging students in dialogue about their learning: It was so amazing to me how much I actually learned from my own students. Oftentimes they would express thoughts and ideas that I had never even thought about. In addition to that, I learned so much about my own learning from trying to teach them. ... By allowing opportunities for the students to give me feedback on their own learning, I was much more able to become a part of their learning process (CO, 2007).
Teachers also noted that these feedback sessions with students freed them up to be more themselves in the classroom and not, as one teacher wrote, “this ‘teacher-esque’ thing that [we] pluck out of thin air.” Bronwyn noted that, like Marc, when she started from herself, and her own genuine desire to know what her students were thinking (both about their learning and about the texts they were studying), she learned. “I ask questions to which I do not know the answer,” she writes. The connection to self is a potent source authority and agency. Not only does this help students realize that I’m not ‘looking’ for any particular answer, it also allows me to become a part of the classroom learning experience, instead of the schoolmarm by the board. At the end of the day, I often have a better understanding of what kinds of questions really engage my learners – and more, I have a new understanding of the text with which we are working (BJ, 2007).
Like Bronwyn, Dale, a history teacher, became curious about what his student thought about their experiences. Once he let go of needing to know how things would turn out ahead of time, he gradually relaxed, and let himself just be present. He writes, I was nervous to see how they would respond to some of the [feedback] questions because I thought that they might be unclear. I decided, though, to let go of my anxiety and try it out. After all, I am trying not to judge or analyze what is happening until much later during my own reflection. This freed me up and I was curious to see what my students would say (DB, 2007).
Marc, the art teacher, also felt the power of this connection to self: “I had been trying to adopt the methods of others without modification, and as a result, lost touch with my inner self and inner teacher. I had never completely attempted change because I had not been
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able to find integrity in what I was attempting to do” (ML, 2007). After a feedback session with his students, he says, he better understood his students’ learning, and together, with input from them, made changes based on evidence rather than cleaving to disembodied techniques suggested in books on teaching, or during professional development days. As Bronwyn’s, Dale’s, and Marc’s words suggest, there is uncertainty involved in asking for feedback and there is risk that comes with vulnerability. And yet they all speak of having a better understanding of their students, feeling less anxious and more genuine. As these teachers had genuine conversations with students, they began to trust more deeply their own instincts and ideas about what was best for them. Descriptive feedback gave these teachers the authority to take control and do what was important for their students’ learning. It is evident that by giving space to students’ feedback and descriptive reviews – by being more present to who the students were and their capacity as learners – teachers’ views of themselves in terms of their own authority and agency changed. These changes are no small feat for student teachers, who so often feel caught in the powerless space between being students and teachers, and victims of policy. They made changes in their teaching and in their curriculum and bucked conventional stories of powerlessness within the system. There is evidence that, armed with data from descriptive reviews and feedback sessions, teachers felt their own sense of agency, just as their students felt theirs. These student teachers felt empowered to act, by dint of the evidence they had in hand, even in contexts where they often felt powerless. As one science teacher put it, while she was not surprised by what her students said, she now had “solid proof:” I had observed that students tend to be the most excited and focused during hands on activities. Thus, I had an idea that students enjoyed doing hands-on work. Nevertheless, it was only an assumption. Now, based on their feedback, I have solid proof. … Moreover, I acquired information about how I could improve this lesson that I could not have obtained by looking at test scores (KM, 2007).
For these teachers, knowing how to teach came from paying attention to who their students were and how they learned. Bronwyn (the English teacher) put it this way: “I can’t claim that I cracked the case on the often-enigmatic student I observed, but by the end of the year, she was glad to put her arm around me as we posed for a picture. More importantly, I began to realize why history interested her so much more than English, which is to say, I could begin to learn with her in a way that she found engaging.”
Conclusion In her essay, “Poets of Our Lives,” Patricia Carini (2002) writes about “selves in the making.” We all, she contends, are equal in our need to create, to literally have a hand in the construction of our lives, to be artists of those lives. “My claim,” she writes, is for the equivalency of the impulse, the irresistible desire to make, and in the making to make a mark on the world: to make a breakthrough that carries the child (as it does the adult artist), beyond the raw fact of existence to own that existence, that life that is her own. That is where I suggest we are well, and truly, met: artist and scientist, child and adult, worker and player, lives lived quietly and lives played out in the large, public arena (p. 22).
This capacity to be active agents in the construction of our lives is widely distributed among all of us, Carini contends, not gifted to a few. She, like, Dewey, believes that we enact ourselves, that is, we create ourselves by acting on the world. Dewey scholar David Hansen (2006) writes of Dewey’s view: …the quality of the situations humans create, enter, transform, and leave, will influence formatively their very constitution as persons. A wide variety and richness of objects and environmental conditions will make possible situations that fund the self in substantial ways, fueling its growth so that in all subsequent
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It is these selves, child and adult, who live in classrooms. The concepts and processes discussed in this chapter are designed to do nothing less than to make space for these selves to grow and for the “situation” they cohabit to transform. Presence is presence to this becoming, to this human capacity. In looking at a child through the lenses of the descriptive review – the hats they choose to wear, the things they draw in their notebooks, the collections they keep, how they move their bodies down the corridor and up the stairs, how they choose to carry their bodies through space, whom they sit with at lunch, the gestures of their eyes, voice, and hands – a teacher can glimpse the world from the child’s own, and unique-in-the-world, perspective and, in turn, offer “situations,” to use Dewey’s word, that bring forth the child. In doing so, not only is the child enriched, but so is the community of the classroom, and ultimately, the world itself. While children engage in their own individual efforts in the classroom – that is, learning – their combined efforts, along with the teacher’s own creation – that is, teaching – comprise the larger work that they all share. As with the individual work that they do, this larger work invites inquiry, reconstruction, and experimentation. No work comes into being from whole cloth – why should teaching and learning? They require our investigation and creativity. Our capacity as humans to voice our perspective and to act upon the enterprise of teaching and learning to make it better, more beautiful, more democratic, can be called upon in the classroom as much as in life outside the classroom. Human capacity is civic capacity. It is what makes us human. To deprive learners of this opportunity to shape their own experience is, in effect, to deprive them of their humanity; this in turn deprives the community of students’ contributions, and shortchanges its own development. Descriptive feedback, this simple, obvious, structured dialogue between teachers and students that, mystifyingly, almost never occurs, offers a container for growth of voice, agency, and community. It allows each member of the community to author both their own lives and the shared life of the group – to feel their own human capacity. The two processes put forth in this chapter are “practices” and “disciplines” in the sense that they suggest established habits and structured processes that have as their purpose individual growth and the enhancement of “associated living.” They are means to moral ends, a means to, as Dewey says, more “generous selves” that expand and enrich the human domain. Acknowledgmentsâ•… I wish to acknowledge the students who so graciously agreed to share their work. I also want to acknowledge the immensely helpful feedback from my colleagues, Claire Stanley and Kathleen Graves, on an earlier draft of this chapter. My grateful thanks also to Miriam Raider-Roth and James Garrison for their very thoughtful and provocative reviews of this chapter.
References Blythe, F. Allan D, Powell, B. S. (2006) Looking Together at Student work: A companion guide to assessing on student learning (2nd ed.). Teachers College Press. Carini, P. F. (2001). Starting strong. A different look at children, school, and standards. New York: Teachers College Press. Carini, P. (2001) Puts of our lever, in P. Carini, STARTING STRONG, Teachers college press, New York. Dewey, J. (1916/1980). Democracy and education. In J. A. Boydston, P. R. Baysinger, & B. Levine (Eds.), John Dewey: The middle works, 1899–1924 (vol. 9). Carbondale and Edwardsville: Southern Illinois University Press. Dewey, J. (1933). How we think. Lexington, MA: D.C. Heath and Co.
3â•… The Role of Descriptive Inquiry in Building Presence and Civic Capacity Dewey, J. (1934). Art as experience. New York: Perigree Books. Dewey, J. (1938). Experience and education. New York: Collier Books. Fine, M., & Weis, L. (2003). Silenced voices and extraordinary conversations. New York: Teachers College Press. Hansen, D. T. (ed). (2006). John Dewey and our educational prospect: A critical engagement with Dewey’s democracy and education. New York: Teachers College Press. Himley, M., & Carini, P. F. (2000). From another angle: Children’s strengths and school standards. New York: Teachers College Press. Meares, M. (2003). Voice, agency, and engagement: Narratives of negative work experiences from employees from traditionally muted groups. Paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the International Communication Association, Marriott Hotel, San Diego, CA, 27 May 2003. Online PDF 2008-09-29. Miron, L. F., & Lauria, M. (1998). Student voice as agency: Resistance and accommodation in inner-city schools. Anthropology & Education Quarterly, 29(2), 189–213. Palmer, P. (1998). The courage to teach. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Rodgers, C. (2002a). Defining reflection: Another look at John Dewey and reflective thinking. Teachers College Record, 74(4), 842–866. Rodgers, C. (2002b). Seeing student learning: Teacher change and the role of reflection. Harvard Educational Review, 72(2), 230–253. Rodgers, C. (2006a). Attending to student voice: The impact of descriptive feedback on learning and teaching. Curriculum Inquiry, 36(2), 209–227. Rodgers, C. (2006b). Experience as art: The process of valuing and appreciating the work of children in teacher education. Teacher Education and Practice, 19(4), 434–454. Rodgers, C., & Raider-Roth, M. (2006). Presence in teaching. Teachers and Teaching: Theory and Practice, 12(3), 265–287. Schön, D. (1983). The reflective practitioner. New York: Basic Books. Seidel, S, (1998). Learning from looking in N. Lyons (editor), 1998, With Portfolio in Hand, Validating the new teacher professionalism, Teachers College Press, New York. Simon, K. G. (2001). Moral questions in the classroom. New Haven: Yale University Press.
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Part III
Reflective Inquiry in the Professions
Part III of the Handbook takes up a major component of the work to offer a rich set of data useful for comparisons, presenting a set of overviews of reflective inquiry in several professions: teacher education, the law, medicine, occupational therapy, nursing, social work, teaching, adult education and probation services. These vignettes comprise state of the art views of reflective practice within the profession, a brief historical overview, a description of the conceptualization of reflection, how it is employed and a view of where the profession is today and might be in the future. In brief, these chapters present nine professions.
Chapter 4: Teacher Education Ken Zeichner and Katrina Yan Liu, the authors of this chapter, discuss different views of reflection as a goal for teacher education over the last 30 years. The authors do this with three critical questions in mind: the degree to which reflection in teacher education has resulted in genuine teacher development; the extent to which the goal of reflection has contributed to educational equity; and, the relationship between the goal of preparing reflective teachers and what we know about the realities of teachers’ work. Certain striking things are revealed: that in the 1970s there was no sizable research on teachers’ work and no real discussion of teacher thinking. This is an excellent opening discussion appropriate for looking historically at teaching and teacher education today. Also included in this chapter is a contrast case examining reflective practice in China.
Chapter 5: Education for the Law In this chapter, author Filippa Anzalone traces the progress of legal education from the emphasis on a case-dialog method of its originator, Christopher Columbus Langdell of the Harvard Law School, to today’s experimentation and reform highlighting reflective practice. With the goal of teaching students and moving them from novices to expert levels, to think like a lawyer, the case method is nearly legendary in education for the law. Yet it is this method that is being challenged today, charged with being too pro forma, rigid, and cutting off useful questioning and critical thinking. Reflective practice is seen as providing opportunities to examine and test beliefs, one’s own as well as those of the profession. This chapter reviews this history and introduces ways of approaching teaching reflective practice for a new goal.
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Chapter 6: Medical Education For author Dr. Tony Ryan, reflective practice in medicine can largely be taken from Schon’s pioneering work with ways of knowing through reflection in action and reflection on action. Ryan sees a rich complex of ideas and practices that can be mapped onto medical education and practice. “In medicine, reflection before action is the way a doctor prepares psychologically for an imminent patient encounter. Knowing in action is the way a skillful and experienced doctor thinks on his feet and reacts to variations in practice almost unconsciously. Thus knowing in action is mainly intuition or pattern recognition with rapid meta-cognition oversight. Intuition however can lead to cognitive errors, such as diagnosis fixation, etc. – if doctor’s intuitive assumptions are not tested.” So Ryan lays out how, in the chapter, he will draw on new cognitive understandings in the education of doctors. Reflection in action requires intuition but it is a meta-cognitive process. It includes the capabilities of emotional intelligences, such as self-awareness, self-regulation, zeal, persistence, and motivation, founded on a firm knowledge base. A rich fare of ideas joins current discussions about the education of doctors as reflective practitioners.
Chapter 7: Occupational Therapy The authors of this chapter, Ellen Cohn, Barbara Schell, and Elizabeth Crepeau, present an intriguing history of Occupational Therapy founded in 1917 with its enduring commitment to reflective practice. This study provides a case exemplar of reflective practice from the origins of the profession to today and that in itself is a provocative contrast case to other histories in the Handbook. The authors situate reflection within practice and the diagnosing and implementing of a therapy. Influenced by Philippe Pinel’s ideal of moral treatment of people with mental illness, the founders of the profession sought to provide treatment to health through accommodating and adapting occupations of meaningful activities. The authors also indicate where reflection fits into the training of today’s therapists. As Occupational Therapy moves towards its one hundred anniversary, to occur within several years, there has been a re-examination of reflective practice and an effort to identify the shape of its future within the profession.
Chapter 8: Nursing Education In this chapter, Suzie Kim and her colleagues, Laurie M. Lauzon Clabo, Patricia Burbank, Mary Leveillee, and Diane Martins, review reflective practice in nursing education. They especially examine the major conceptual framework that has been appropriated in nursing to date, that is, Schon’s idea of reflection on action. Schon’s idea of reflection in action, with its emphasis on real-time practice of being immersed in the situation of practice while continuously inquiring about one’s approach to it, is, the authors assert, a “difficult process and may be more appropriate and possible in the practice of experts rather than of novices or students.” In nursing, this approach of reflection on action has been taken up using journals, diaries, critical incidents. But the report presented here examines Critical Reflective Inquiry (CRI) developed by Kim for clinical practicum courses with nurses. The aim of the practicum is to gain self understanding of the knowledge, values, and attitudes that become integrated-in an active practicum whose purpose is to evaluate the practicum in order to learn from one’s practice. This represents a shift from standard practice in
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which comment on the student’s practice was made by an outsider, not the student. This presentation emphasizes the training in the procedure, the necessity to educate the trainers to engage in the practice themselves if they are to teach it – a procedure needed in all models of teaching reflection.
Chapter 9: Social Work Education Social Work practice in several countries world wide is today viewed as challenged and monitored, increasingly by bureaucratic procedures, assert authors of the chapter, M. Murphy and colleagues M. Dempsey and C. Halton. Not surprisingly, Social Work literature is replete with the perceived assaults on professional identity by techniques approaches. Tragic cases of clients make media history and bring assaults on practitioners often ignoring organizational or policy directives also at work in a situation. Still some urge Social Workers to exercise autonomous judgment resulting in critical tensions in the field. This tension today gives new impetus for reflection in Social Work education. This chapter addresses the history of reflection in the field, the bases both theoretical and practical, and concerns the recent move to emphasize evidence-based practice. Today reflective practice is a requirement for social work accreditation, making it a high stakes component for practice in many countries. This chapter too discusses what education for reflection entails, and what is needed for the future in the new competency–based practice.
Chapter 10: Teaching K-12 to Higher Education Cheryl Craig addresses reflective practice in teaching K-12 and in higher education. She gives a comprehensive scholarly look at theorists and practitioners in the historical perspective. She is especially attentive to the role of the teacher in actual practice and as influenced by historical and theoretical trends. She traces movements in international perspective in great detail. What is especially compelling and illuminating is Craig’s introduction of a narrative exemplar, the real-life story of one teacher’s attempts to teach reflectively and to be a reflective practitioner and how both were stymied as well as encouraged within the context of a school setting in the midst of school reform in the United States. The purpose of this robust story is to reveal the complexities of contexts and to allow a reader to place the teacher’s experience in a real situation and reveal the barriers as well as to project what the future might encourage.
Chapter 11: Adult Education Stephen Brookfield takes up “critical reflection as an adult learning process.” In this chapter, he opens with the acknowledgement of the fact that clinical practice across several professions is located in a zone of ambiguity. And he argues that this is where reflective inquiry comes in. For the chief form of learning that practitioners undertake – in spite of preservice and inservice programs – is reflective learning; “learning to reflect in and on the problems they face in the field every day. Through reflective practice practitioners explore assumptions that frame their perception of problems and responses typically generated by them.” What Brookfield does find problematic is the tendency to conflate the
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terms “reflection” and “critical reflection,” as if they mean roughly the same thing and describe the same behaviors. Brookfield goes on to elaborate why it is necessary to underscore the distinctions between the two and he goes on to do that in this provocative chapter, taking up a current, popular topic, critical reflection.
Chapter 12: Probation Services Chapter 12 of the Handbook draws on a recent study of Probation Officers by author Carmel Halton to address reflective practice in Probation Services in the Republic of Ireland. The chapter examines links between social and political ideologies, changes in the structure of probation organizations and modifications of roles, function, and practices of personnel. Shifts in the mission of probation services has made probation work largely the delivery of programs and projects to offenders. Indeed probation world wide is at the forefront of the delivery of programs to offenders – cognitive behavioral programs to sexual and violent offenders, domestic violence perpetrator programs; cognitive skills programs and substance use programs. Unlike other countries in the United States and Europe where Probation is a statutory service, probation in Ireland has not been established as a distinct corporate body in law, despite recommendations to that effect. The 1907 law that established legislative provision for probation in Ireland, cites that of “advising, assisting and befriending” the offender. The 2001 statement shifts: “To foster public safety and promote the common good by changing the behavior of offenders and ...reducing the level of offending.” Traditional probation focus on the offender and their needs is gradually being superseded by a focus on the victim and wider community interests. The chapter documents how reflective practice is seen as necessary to the future of Probation.
Chapter 4
A Critical Analysis of Reflection as a Goal for Teacher Education Ken Zeichner and Katrina Yan Liu
Background In this chapter, we share our thinking about the focus on teacher reflection in teacher education programs around the world. In doing so, we reflect back on the last 30 or so years when Ken Zeichner has been a university teacher educator, in terms of his reading of the international literature and on how he has observed the idea of teacher reflection being used in teacher education programs in the U.S. and in the many countries that he has had the privilege to visit. We also briefly explore how the concept of reflection has been used in the literature on teacher education in China. Zeichner published his first paper about the idea of reflective practice in teacher education in 1981 in Canada during a time when behavioral psychology was the dominant force in U.S. teacher education (Zeichner 1981).1 During his time as a teacher education student and as an elementary school teacher in public schools in the USA in the early 1970s, the emphasis was on preparing teachers to behave in certain ways (e.g., asking certain kinds of questions) that were assumed to be effective in raising students’ standardized test scores. There was no research and no real discussion in teacher education about teacher thinking and with helping teachers understand the rationales underlying the use of different teaching strategies or with helping teachers learn how to exercise their judgment in the classroom to meet the constantly changing learning needs of their students. A number of things happened that led to a shift from a focus on training teachers to perform certain behaviors to more fully educating teachers to understand the reasons and rationales associated with different practices and with developing teachers’ capacities to make intelligent decisions about how to act based on their carefully developed educational goals, on the contexts in which they were working, and on the learning needs of their students. These included the beginning of research on teacher thinking (e.g., Shulman 1992), the growing influence of cognitive science in education (Richardson 1990), and the growing acceptance of qualitative forms of research in education (Lagemann 2000). There is also the belief by some that the emergence of reflective practice as an emphasis in teacher education is linked with efforts of neo-liberal and neo-conservative reformers to exert
K.Y. Liuâ•› University of Wisconsin-Madison, Madison, WI, USA e-mail:
[email protected] 1
For example, see Peck and Tucker (1973).
N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_4, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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more subtle and greater controls over teachers so that the purpose of public education could more easily be narrowed and more closely linked with the production of workers for the global economy (e.g., Smyth 1992).2 Zeichner’s involvement with trying to prepare teachers who were more reflective about their practice began in 1976 when he first joined the faculty at the UW-Madison and conducted research on the learning of the student teachers who were in his pre-service teacher education program. What he learned in his research was that many of his students, although technically competent in the classroom, were largely concerned about moving their pupils through the lessons in a smooth and orderly fashion. They did not think much about why they were doing what they were doing, how what they were teaching represented selections from a larger universe of possibilities, and how the contexts in which they taught encouraged and discouraged certain kinds of practices. For the most part, these students had no idea of where the curriculum came from and did not seem to care. Teaching was largely seen as a technical process to be directed by what people either in schools or universities wanted them to do and for the most part the students did not see teaching as a moral and ethical activity over which they had any control. While these students completed and very much enjoyed one or more various social foundations courses that highlighted the moral and ethical aspects of schooling, they tended to separate these courses from their own process of learning to teach (e.g., Tabachnick et€al. 1979–1980). The first use of the term “reflective teaching” at the University of Wisconsin represented a vague and general attempt to help students become more thoughtful about the moral and ethical dimensions of teaching without a particular focus on helping them to reflect on specific things or to reflect in certain ways (Grant and Zeichner 1984). As pointed out by Tellez (2007), in this early work UW-Madison teacher educators spent more time talking about what reflective teaching was not rather than what it was. Over time, we benefited considerably from the emerging international literature on reflective practice in teaching and teacher education (e.g., Grimmett and Erickson 1988; Calderhead and Gates 1993; Clift et€ al., 1990; LaBoskey 1994; Loughran 1996; Rodgers 2002a; Swarts 1999; Valli 1992) and our use of the idea of reflection in our program has developed and changed as we continue to study and critique our own work as teacher educators and the impact of their program on our students. We also continue to produce work of our own in which our conception of reflective teaching continues to develop and our abilities to foster it continue to improve both in pre-service teacher education (e.g., Tabachnick and Zeichner 1991; Gore and Zeichner 1991; Zeichner and Liston 1987; Zeichner and Liston 1996) and in ongoing professional development programs for experienced teachers (Zeichner 2003). When Donald Schon published the book, The reflective practitioner in 1983 (Schon 1983), this marked the reemergence of reflective practice as a major issue in North American teacher education. The idea of reflective practice has been around for a long time in both western and non-western philosophy (Houston 1988), including the great influence that Dewey’s book How we think (Dewey 1933) had on education in the U.S. in the early 1900s. Following the publication of Schon’s book and the massive amount of literature it stimulated on the issue worldwide, and the work of other educators around the world including Freire in Brazil (Freire 1973), and Habermas in Europe (Habermas 1971),3 teacher educators all over the world began discussing how they were preparing their students to be reflective teachers. Reflective teaching quickly became a slogan that was embraced by teacher educators from every political and ideological perspective to frame and justify what they were This more subtle form of control is accomplished while claiming to empower teachers, a point that will be explained below. 3 The ideas of Habermas were brought into teacher education discussions about reflection largely through the interpretation of his work in several key publications (e.g., Carr and Kemmis 1986; Van Mannen 1977). 2
4â•… A Critical Analysis of Reflection as a Goal for Teacher Education
doing in their programs and after a time it began to lose any specific meaning. As Rodgers (2002a) has put it, “In becoming everything to everybody, it has lost its ability to be seen” (p.843), or as Australian scholar John Smyth (1992) has said: What we are witnessing is a kind of conceptual colonization in which terms like reflection have become such an integral part of the education jargon that not to be using them is to run the real risk of being out of educational fashion. Everybody climbs aboard under the flag of convenience and the term is used to describe anything at all that goes on in teaching. What is not revealed is the theoretical, political and epistemological baggage that people bring with them (p.286).
Reflective Practice as a Goal for Teacher Education From one perspective, the international movement that developed in teaching and teacher education under the banner of reflection can be seen as a reaction against the view of teachers as technicians who merely carry out what others, removed from the classroom want them to do, and of top-down approaches to educational reform that only involve teachers as passive participants.4 At a surface level, the reflective practice movement involves recognition that teachers should play active roles in formulating the purposes and ends of their work along with others, and should assume leadership roles in school reform. Reflection also signifies that the development of new knowledge about teaching is not exclusively the role of college and university faculty, and recognition that teachers have theories too that can contribute to the development of a common knowledge base about good teaching practices (CochranSmith and Lytle 1993). The concept of the teacher as a reflective practitioner appears to acknowledge the expertise that is located in the practices of good teachers, what Schon (1983) has called “knowledge-in-action.”5 From the perspective of the individual teacher, this means that the process of understanding and improving one’s own teaching must start from reflection upon one’s own experience, and that the sort of wisdom derived entirely from the experience of others is insufficient. Reflection as a slogan for educational reform also signifies a recognition that no matter what we do in our teacher education programs and how well we do them, at best we can only prepare teachers to begin teaching. When embracing the concept of reflective teaching, there is often a commitment by teacher educators to help prospective teachers internalize during their initial training, the dispositions and skills to learn from their teaching experience and become better at it throughout their teaching careers (Feiman-Nemser 2001). Amid the explosion of interest in the idea of teachers as reflective practitioners, there has also been a great deal of confusion about what exactly is meant in particular cases by the use of the term “reflective teaching” and whether or not the idea of teachers as reflective practitioners should be supported. Although those who have embraced the slogan of reflection appear to share certain goals and commitments about an active role for teachers in school reform, in reality, one can tell very little about an approach to teaching or teacher education from an expressed commitment to the idea of reflection alone (Day 1993). Underlying the apparent similarity among those who have embraced the slogan of reflection are vast differences in perspectives about teaching, learning, schooling, and the good society.
4 As will be discussed below, throughout the world there has been a tendency toward the deprofessionalization of teaching although the nature of the changes in teaching and the extent to which teachers’ abilities to exercise their judgment in the classroom have been reduced has varied by country (e.g., Robertson 2000; Tatto 2007). 5 The term “practical theory” has also been used to describe the knowledge that teachers generate through an analysis of their practice (Handal and Lauvas 1987).
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It came to the point over a decade ago, where the whole range of beliefs about these things have become incorporated into the discourse about reflective teaching. Everyone, no matter what his or her ideological commitments, has jumped on the bandwagon and is committed to some version of reflective teaching (Calderhead 1989). A number of scholars in different parts of the world have devoted considerable time to analyzing the different positions on reflective teaching that have emerged (e.g., Handal and Lauvas 1987; Hatton and Smith 1995; Kremer Hayon 1990; Valli 1997; Zeichner and Liston 1996). Some have also spent time studying the different pedagogies that teacher educators have employed to promote the different visions of reflective teaching that they are committed to, such as action research, teaching portfolios, journals and autobiographies, teaching cases (both print and electronic), and the mediation of various kinds of school and community field experiences (e.g., Bullough 2008; Dinkelman 1997; Richert 1992; Lyons 1998; Rodgers 2002b; Zeichner 1987) or to ways to assess the quality of reflective teaching (e.g., Ward and McCotter 2004; Sumson and Fleet 1996; Tse 2007) We are not going to discuss in this paper the specific versions of reflective teaching that have been identified and the strategies used to develop them. Instead, we will discuss the idea of reflective practice in teacher education in relation to three issues: (1) the degree to which reflective teacher education has resulted in genuine teacher development; (2) the degree to which the reflective teaching movement has contributed to a narrowing of the gaps that exist worldwide in the quality of education experienced by students from different ethnic and social class backgrounds; and (3) the degree of correspondence between the image of teachers in discussions of reflective teacher education and the material realities of teachers’ work.
Has Reflective Teacher Education Supported Genuine Teacher Development? First is the question of the degree to which reflective teacher education has supported genuine teacher development. Here, despite all of the rhetoric surrounding efforts to prepare teachers who are more reflective and analytic about their work, in reality, reflective teacher education has done very little to foster genuine teacher development and to enhance teachers’ roles in educational reform. Instead, an illusion of teacher development has often been created which has maintained in more subtle ways the subservient position of the teacher. There are several ways in which reflective teacher education has undermined the frequently expressed emancipatory intent of teacher educators. First, one of the most common uses of the concept of reflection has involved helping teachers reflect about their teaching with the primary aim of better replicating a curriculum or teaching method that research has allegedly found to be effective in raising students’ standardized test scores. Here, the question for reflection is how well does my practice conform to what someone wants me to be doing? Sometimes, the creative intelligence of the teacher is permitted to intervene to determine the situational appropriateness of employing particular teaching strategies and materials, but often it is not. There are a number of things missing from this popular kind of reflection about teaching including any sense of how the practical theories of teachers (their “knowledgein-action” in Schon’s language) are to contribute to the continuing development of teachers’ abilities to exercise their judgment in the classroom. Ironically, despite Schon’s (1983) very articulate rejection of this technical rationality in his book The reflective practitioner, “theory” is still seen by those who use this approach to reside only within universities, and practice to reside only within schools. The problem is framed as merely transferring or applying theories from the university to classroom practice (e.g., Zeichner 1995).
4â•… A Critical Analysis of Reflection as a Goal for Teacher Education
The reality that theories are always produced through practices and that practices always reflect particular theoretical commitments is ignored. There are still many instances of this technical rationality approach to reflective practice in teacher education programs around the world today (See Boud and Walker 1998; Valli 1997; Vavrus 2002 for examples). Closely related to this persistence of technical rationality under the banner of reflective teaching is the limitation of the reflective process to consideration of teaching skills and strategies (the means of instruction) and exclusion of reflection upon the ends of education, and the moral and ethical aspects of teaching from the teacher’s purview. Teachers are denied the opportunity to do anything but fine-tune and adjust the means for accomplishing ends determined by others. Teaching becomes merely a technical activity. A third aspect of the failure of reflective teacher education to promote genuine teacher development is the clear emphasis on focusing teachers’ reflections inwardly at their own teaching and students, to the neglect of consideration of the social conditions of schooling that influence the teacher’s work within the classroom. This individualist bias makes it less likely that teachers will be able to confront and transform those structural aspects of their work that undermine their accomplishment of their educational goals. The context of teachers’ work is to be taken as given. While teachers’ primary concerns understandably lie within the classroom and with their students, it is unwise to restrict teachers’ attention to these concerns alone. As U.S. philosopher, Israel Scheffler, has argued: Teachers cannot restrict their attention to the classroom alone, leaving the larger setting and purposes of schooling to be determined by others. They must take active responsibility for the goals to which they are committed and for the social setting in which these goals may prosper. If they are not to be mere agents of the state, military, media, and experts and bureaucrats, they need to determine their own agency through a critical and continual evaluation of the purposes, the consequences, and the social context of their calling (p. 11).
We must be careful here that teachers’ involvement in matters beyond the boundaries of their classrooms does not make excessive demands on their time, energy and expertise, diverting their attention from their core mission with students. In some circumstances, creating more opportunities for teachers to participate in school-wide decisions about curriculum, staffing, instruction and so on can intensify their work beyond the bounds of reasonableness and make it more difficult for them to accomplish their primary task of educating students. It does not have to be this way, but care needs to be taken that teacher empowerment does not undermine teachers’ capacity to educate students. A related concern that has been raised about the focus on fostering teacher reflection in relation to teachers’ capacity to educate students is related to the undeniably fast-paced and complex nature of classrooms and the need for teachers to be able to continually and quickly make decisions about what to do. Jackson (1968), in one of the first empirical studies of classroom life, raised the following concerns: If teachers sought a more thorough understanding of their world, insisted on greater rationality in their actions, were completely open-minded in their consideration of pedagogical choices and profound in their view of the human condition, they might well receive greater applause from intellectuals, but it is doubtful that they would perform with greater efficiency in the classroom. On the contrary, it is quite possible that such paragons of virtue, if they could be found to exist, would actually have a deuce of a time coping in any sustained way with a class of third graders or a yard full of nursery school tots (p.151).
Most teacher educators, while accepting Jackson’s (1968) description of the characteristics of classroom life, would argue that the goal is not endless reflection, but a kind of reflection where there is a balance and dialectical relationship between thought and action. Dewey (1933) commented on this issue in his revised edition of How we think, a text that he wrote for classroom teachers about the concept of reflective teaching. There is such a thing as too much thinking, as when action is paralyzed by the multiplicity of views suggested by a situation (e.g., he finds it too difficult to reach any definite conclusion and wanders
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K. Zeichner and K.Y. Liu more or less helplessly among them). The best mental habit involves a balance between paucity and superfluity of suggestions (p.44).
A fourth and closely related aspect of much of the work on reflective teaching is the focus on facilitating reflection by individual teachers who are to think by themselves about their work. There is still very little emphasis on reflection as a social practice that takes place within communities of teachers who support and sustain each other’s growth. The challenge and support gained through social interaction is important in helping us clarify what we believe and in gaining the courage to pursue our beliefs.6 More research in the last decade using a sociocultural lens has focused on the importance of communities of practice in teacher learning (e.g.,Grossman et€al. 2001; Little 2002; McLaughlin and Talbert 2006), but the emphasis is still on individual teacher reflection in many places. One consequence of the focus on individual teacher reflection and the lack of attention by many to the social context of teaching in teacher development has been that teachers come to see their problems as their own, unrelated to those of other teachers or to the structures of schooling. Thus, we saw the widespread use of terms such as “teacher burnout” which directed the attention of teachers away from a critical analysis of schools and the structures of teachers’ work to a preoccupation with their own individual failures. A group of activist teachers in the Boston area argued some time ago that: Teachers must begin to turn the investigation of schools away from scapegoating individual teachers, students, parents, and administrators, toward a system-wide approach. Teachers must recognize how the structure of schools controls their work and deeply affects their relationships with their fellow teachers, their students, and their student’ families. Only with this knowledge, they can grow into wisdom and help others to grow (Freedman et€al. 1983, p. 299).
In summary, when we examine the ways in which the concept of reflection has been used in teacher education we find four themes that undermine the potential for genuine teacher development: (1) a focus on helping teachers to better replicate practices suggested by research conducted by others and a neglect of preparing teachers to exercise their judgment with regard to the use of these practices; (2) a means-end thinking which limits the substance of teachers’ reflections to technical questions of teaching techniques and ignores analysis of the ends toward which they are directed; (3) an emphasis on facilitating teachers’ reflections about their own teaching while ignoring the social and institutional context in which teaching takes place; and (4) an emphasis on helping teachers’ to reflect individually. All of these things create a situation where there is merely the illusion of teacher development of teacher empowerment. It is not inevitable that efforts to foster teacher reflection will reinforce and strengthen the subservient position of teachers. There are examples in a number of countries of efforts by teacher educators to encourage the reflection of student teachers which focus on the ends as well as the means of teaching, which include attention to the social conditions of schooling as well as to teaching, and which emphasize reflection as a social practice within communities of teachers. These examples support the genuine development and empowerment of teachers to play important roles in school reform (e.g., see Schwille and Dembele 2007; Villegas-Reimers 2003). One example of this work within a pre-service context is a focus on helping prospective teachers understand the reasons and rationales that underlie different choices that have been made in the classrooms in which they have completed their field experiences, to encourage their cooperating teachers talk with them about their thinking about what they do and would like to do, and to talk about how they have adapted instruction to meet the varied needs of their learners (e.g., Feiman-Nemser and Beasley 2007). Even when student
See Hoffman-Kipp et€al. (2003) for a discussion of how developments in learning theory (e.g., culturalhistorical activity theory) support the idea of reflection as a social practice. 6
4â•… A Critical Analysis of Reflection as a Goal for Teacher Education
teachers are not able to act on the results of their analyses, student teachers are able to gain a level of awareness that helps them see possibilities, that helps them see that what is, is not inevitable and that it reflects particular biases. Although this kind of work is important, we want to argue that, even if teacher development is genuine and not a fraud, there is another consideration that needs to be taken into account in examining reflection in teacher education. Reflective teacher education which fosters genuine teacher development should only be supported in our view if it is connected to the struggle for greater social justice and contributes to the narrowing of the gaps in the quality of education available to students from different backgrounds in every country of the world. Just as the case with teacher reflection, teacher development and empowerment should not be viewed as ends in themselves.
Connecting Teacher Reflection to the Struggle for Social Justice Even when reflection is used as a vehicle for genuine teacher development, it is often seen as an end in itself, unconnected to broader questions about education in democratic societies. It has often been stated or implied that if teachers reflect about what they do they will necessarily be better teachers. Kemmis (1985) has argued that reflection is inevitably a political act that either hastens or defers the realization of a more humane, just and decent society. All teaching actions have a variety of consequences which include (1) personal consequences – the effects of teaching on students’ social and emotional development and social relationships; (2) academic consequences – the effects of teaching on students’ intellectual development; and (3) political consequences – the cumulative effects of school experience on students’ life chances. In our view, reflective teacher education needs to address all of these dimensions, and it should not be supported unless it makes a contribution to the making of a better society for everyone’s children. What does this mean in practical terms for those of us who prepare teachers? First, we need to recognize that reflection by itself means very little. All teachers are reflective in some sense. It is important to consider what we want teachers to reflect about and how. A number of different conceptual frameworks have been developed over the years in several countries to describe different ways to define the focus and quality of reflection. Connecting teacher reflection to the struggle for social justice that exists in all countries today does not mean only focusing on the political aspects of teaching. Teachers need to know the academic subject matter they are responsible for teaching and how to transform it to connect with what students already know to promote greater understanding. They need to know how to learn about their students – what they know and can do – and the cultural resources that they bring to the classroom. Teachers also need to know how to explain complex concepts, lead discussions, how to assess student learning, manage a classroom and many other things. Connecting teacher reflection to the struggle for social justice means that in addition to making sure that teachers have the content and pedagogical background needed to teach in a way that promotes student understanding (rejecting a transmission model of teaching that merely promotes rote repetition), we need to ensure that teachers know how to make decisions on a daily basis that do not unnecessarily limit the life chances of their pupils and that they make decisions in their work with greater awareness of the potential political consequences of the different choices that they make. One example of the potential contribution of teacher reflection to achieving greater social justice in the U.S. context through including a focus on the political consequences of teaching is related to the need to focus teachers’ reflections, in part, on issues of race and culture. A number of scholars have rightly critiqued the literature on reflective teacher
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education for its lack of attention to race and culture (e.g., Milner 2003) which is a major issue in the U.S. and elsewhere because of the great differences that exist between the cultural, racial and linguistic backgrounds of teachers and pupils in the public schools (Craft 1996; Villegas and Lucas 2004) and the enduring gaps in learning and other outcomes between students from different racial, linguistic and social class groups (e.g., Darling-Hammond 2007). A number of scholars (e.g., Gay and Kirkland 2003; Howard 2003; Villegas and Lucas 2002) have described ways in which they have turned the focus of student teachers’ reflections toward the development of greater sociocultural consciousness and critical racial consciousness. These qualities are necessary ingredients for teachers to be able to enact the kind of culturally responsive teaching that builds in a positive way on the cultural resources that students bring to school with them. Others such as Jacob (1995) and Gonzales et€al. (2005) have done similar things by applying anthropological perspectives and methods in their work with in-service teachers. There is substantial research that supports the connection between teaching in culturally responsive ways and one’s success in promoting learning among the diverse students who attend U.S. public schools (e.g., Gay 2000; Jordan Irvine 2003). While education actions by teachers within schools obviously cannot solve societal problems by themselves, they can contribute to the building of more just and decent societies. The most important point is that teaching can never be neutral. Teachers must act with greater political clarity about whose interests are served by their daily actions. They may not be able to change some aspects of the situation at present, but at least they will be aware of what is happening.
Teachers Working Conditions and the Possibility of Reflective Practice In recent years, deprofesionalization of the work of teachers has intensified in many countries throughout the world in response to pressures from neo-liberal and neo-conservative policies and the very idea of public education is in doubt in many places (e.g., Compton and Weiner 2008; Smyth et€ al. 2000). The growing influence of neo-liberal policies began to accelerate just prior to the time of the publication of Schon’s (1983) Reflective practitioner (Harvey 2005). Given the political and economic situation in much of the world today, it is very easy for teacher reflection to become merely a tool for more subtlety controlling teachers. 7The real challenge for us is to work against the grain and make our work in teacher education contribute to a lessening of these destructive tendencies and to connect what we do in our teacher education classrooms to struggles of educators and citizens everywhere to move us closer to a world where everyone’s children have access to the means and conditions that will help them lead productive and rewarding lives. It is our belief that unless we make our work part of this broader struggle, reflective teacher education is not worthy of our support. This struggle will not be easy in these times of excessive preoccupation with narrow forms of accountability for teacher education programs and public schools (e.g., Sirotnik 2004; Johnson et€al. 2005),8 attacks on efforts to develop the cultural competence of teachers
See Cole (1997) for a discussion of the obstacles to reflection in the conditions of teachers’ work and their effects on teachers’ perspectives. 8 Some empirical evidence is beginning to emerge that current requirements for state program approval and national accreditation have begun to interfere with teacher educators’ their efforts to educate teachers because of the need to compile masses of data for program reviews that go beyond the bound of reasonableness. 7
4â•… A Critical Analysis of Reflection as a Goal for Teacher Education
(e.g., Izumi and Coburn 2001), efforts to privatize teacher education (Baines 2006; Walsh 2004), and a continuing decline in state support to public schools (Carnoy 2000) and public universities where most teachers in the U.S. are prepared (Lyall and Sell 2006). Some empirical evidence has begun to emerge that current excessive requirements for state program approval and national accreditation have interfered with teacher educators’ efforts to educate teachers. For example, Rennert-Ariev’s (2008) study in Maryland identified the existence of “bureaucratic ventriloquism” where “superficial demonstrations of compliance with external mandates became more important than authentic intellectual engagement” (p.125). Program approval and accreditation do not have to have this effect of course, but in the current political environment for teacher education in the U.S. teacher educators are spending a great deal of time accumulating data that they know does not help them do their job better. Unfortunately in our view, most of the rhetoric about reflection in teacher education today, even after all of the critiques in the literature over the years, fails to incorporate the kind of social and political analysis that is necessary to see and then to challenge the structures that continue to undermine the achievement of our noblest goals as educators. We are optimistic, though, that teacher educators will rise to the challenge and ensure that the goal of reflection in teacher education does not help to unconsciously reproduce the status quo. The goal of working for social justice is a fundamental part of the work of teacher educators in democratic societies and we should never compromise on anything that will help us make progress toward its realization.
The Global Circulation of Discourse About Reflective Practice in Teacher Education : The Case of China Because of the widespread adoption of reflection as a goal for teacher education in teacher education programs around the world, we were curious about the degree to which discussions about reflection in teacher education in different parts of the world are influenced by the same set of ideas and practices and the degree to which local cultural, political and economic factors mediate and shape the discourse and teacher education practices. We decided to conduct a review and analysis of the literature in one country, China, to begin an examination of this issue of local and global influences on reflective teacher education around the world. Following a brief discussion of the concept of reflection in China, we will examine the way in which reflection is discussed in current Chinese teacher education literature.
The Concept of Reflection in China Education has a long history in China. For more than two thousand years, Confucius (551–479 bc) has been regarded as the master of education and the most influential thinker in human history. Recognized as China’s first great teacher, his teachings may be found in the Analects of Confucius and his teaching philosophies are still regarded as golden rules for teaching and learning in modern society. For example, he pointed out the importance of teaching according to the students’ abilities and characteristics. As for the history of the concept of reflection in China, it too can be traced back to the Analects: “Daily I examine my person on three counts. In my undertakings on behalf of other people, have I failed to do my utmost? In my interactions with colleagues
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and friends, have I failed to make good on my word? In what has been passed on to me, have I failed to carry it into practice?” (Ames and Rosemont 1998, p. 72). From this, reflection is focused on the individual person’s self-questioning in order to perfect their actions while interacting with the other people based on the criteria of utmost effort and trustworthiness. On the one hand, this process is critical reflection on one’s own actions in terms of interaction with the other people and with knowledge; on the other hand, it is not critical according to some western conceptions of critical reflection. This is not surprising since Confucius called for respect and devotion to elders and rulers in the society. With regard to the importance of reflection and its relationship to learning, Confucius said: “Learning without due reflection leads to perplexity; reflection without learning leads to perilous circumstances.” (Ames and Rosemont 1998, p. 79). Here, Confucius points out that if one does not reflect on what they have learned, there will be things that they do not understand; on the contrary, if they only reflect without learning new things, that is dangerous since the reflective thinking is based solely on their own perspective. This shows that learning and reflection are interdependent and mutually helpful. According to Ames and Rosemont (1998), another medieval Chinese philosopher, Chengzi, commented on this passage, saying “learn broadly, ask searchingly, reflect carefully, distinguish clearly, and act earnestly. To be lacking in one of these is to fail to learn.” (p. 233). It is clear that reflection has been an important concept in education and philosophy in ancient China. We will now briefly examine the concept and practices of reflection in current education and teacher education in China.
Reflective Teaching in Present Chinese Teacher Education: Concepts and Practices Within three decades of the post-liberation period after the People’s Republic of China was founded in 1949, the country promoted mass public education, and sought to end academic elitism and narrow the cultural and social gap between the elites and peasants and between the urban and rural areas. After Deng Xiaoping came to power in 1978, the party leadership implemented the idea of pragmatism and regarded education as a means of modernization. Since then, science and technology education have become important means to produce the workers required for the construction of the country. This has reinforced the concept of using technology and science efficiently to rapidly develop China into a modern country. Now, China has a nationwide system of public education, which includes elementary schools, middle schools (lower and upper), and universities. Nine years of free compulsory public education are provided for all Chinese students since 2008. Through the post-liberation development of mass public education in China, teacher education has focused on instrumental goals such as ideological conformity and rapid modernization. Recently, reflective teaching has been a frequently discussed topic in Chinese education literature. Taking a closer look at journal papers and books, it is noticeable that these publications tend to provide little more than an introduction to the concepts, functions, importance, and procedures of reflective teaching (Hong and Huang 2002; Wang 2001; Xiong 1999; Yu 2003). Empirical research on teachers’ conceptions of reflective teaching and the quality and content of teachers’ reflections is very rare. Also, seldom do these publications report the use of the concept of reflective teaching in pre-service teacher education programs. As for the concepts and traditions of reflective teaching, it is very popular for researchers and authors to cite scholarship on reflective teaching from the western world. As in the United States, the most frequently mentioned origins of reflective teaching are the work of Dewey (1933) and Schon (1983, 1987). For example, Wang (2001) mentions Dewey’s
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distinction between action that is routine and action that is reflective; Xiong (1999) cites Valli (1992) to explain the purposes of reflective teaching. Their discussion of these ideas tends to be not very comprehensive. For example, according to Lu (2004), Schon’s concept of reflective teaching is that teachers use reflection and inquiry to solve problems in their own teaching. However, Schon’s important idea that teachers’ practical theories derived from experiences are important to this problem solving is not mentioned by Lu. In another example, when Xiong (1999) discusses van Manen’s levels of reflectivity (1977), he interprets the third level of critical reflection as focusing on the moral aspects and other standards that directly or indirectly relate to classroom teaching. This interpretation is very vague about the concept of critical reflection, by which van Manen means focusing on the deliberative rationality of pursuing worthwhile educational ends in self-determination, community, and on the basis of justice, equality, and freedom of the larger society (Van Mannen 1977). A frequently cited source in China about reflective teaching is Xiong’s Reflective Teaching (1999). On the basis of a review of different definitions and models of reflective teaching in the western world, Xiong concludes that the common characteristic of different types of reflective teaching is a process to “find out the problem and inquiry and research to solve the problem” (p. 2). Xiong’s definition of reflective teaching includes three aspects. First, reflective teaching is based on inquiring and solving teaching problems. Second, the motivation of reflective teaching is to rationalize teaching practices. Practical rationality includes teaching goals, and, according to Xiong, teaching goals are determined by educational rules and guidelines. Teachers’ teaching goals are thus transferred from the educational goals of the state. Third, reflective teaching is a process of teachers’ development in all its facets. Xiong’s concept of reflective teaching is focused on teachers’ own practice, and how to improve their practice and professional knowledge according to top-down requirements and educational policies. He does not address the importance of the broader context in which teaching is situated, such as the socioeconomic background of different students and the gaps between rural and urban schools in China, or question/critique the social context that impacts teaching. His definition of reflective teaching reflects his interpretation of western reflective teaching as a process simplified to “find out the problem – inquiry and research – and solve the problem”. Besides papers and books written by university scholars and researchers, there are also publications by school teachers. For those school teachers, the common concept of reflective teaching is also focused on teachers’ own teaching and development. Reflective teaching means teachers trying to understand their own teaching, making appropriate and critical evaluations of their teaching based on observations and analysis in order to improve their teaching practice and professional knowledge (Shi 2004; Wang 2004). For example, Wang (2004) explains that reflective teaching is a process through which teachers critically observe their own teaching practice and the concepts on which that practice is based, the teaching results, experiences, and background. Teachers then either confirm, support, and reinforce the previous teaching practice, or refute, rethink and revise it so that they improve their own self-perceptions. Again, teachers seldom relate the purpose of reflective teaching to student learning or to the context of the larger society. It is worth mentioning that some writers do not cite their statements nor provide the references, so it is hard to track down the origins of reflective teaching mentioned by them. In terms of the traditions of reflective teaching, the five different traditions of reflective practice that were identified by Liston and Zeichner (1991) were frequently mentioned in the literature. Lu (2002) translated the five traditions of reflective teaching as the academic tradition, social efficiency tradition, developmentalist tradition, social reconstructionist tradition, and generic tradition. This introduction helps teachers and teacher educators understand the five traditions of reflective teaching and teacher education in the United
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States during the twentieth century. However, Lu does not relate these traditions to the specific conditions of teaching and teacher education in China, so there is little practical guidance for the practice of reflective teaching in the teacher education field. Xiong (2002) also mentions the five traditions of reflective teaching in the United States; however, he only mentions that these traditions are from the United States, not crediting their authors. On the basis of the literature, the discussions of reflective teaching in China are more about western traditions and concepts. Seldom is reflection explicitly related to Chinese ancient ideas of reflection and teaching.
Practices In addition to literature introducing concepts and traditions of reflective teaching, the literature about the practices of reflective teaching focuses on how to do reflection and what has been done. The reflection process is presented as finding out the problems in classroom teaching, working out strategies and solutions, solving problems and reflecting on the results. The problems are determined by the teachers based on their observations of classroom teaching. Most of the problems discussed are concerned with how to teach the knowledge prescribed in the curriculum more effectively. For example, Lai (2004) reports his reflective teaching of Chinese. He observed that there was a missing link between what he taught and what the students learned. The problem was that for some students, the traditional way of lecturing was too easy, but for some other students, it was beyond their ability to digest, so students were not motivated. Lai describes this situation as “hungry” and “too much to digest” (p. 63). His solution was to use questions to inspire students to explore the text with their own understanding. According to the author, the results showed that students were then more motivated, and therefore their teaching goals were better achieved. This report shows that the teachers’ reflections focused on how to teach the class using basic curriculum principles for the purpose of attaining a given end – technical reflection, as described by Van Mannen (1977). Shi (2004) reports a study of using reflective teaching to improve student teachers’ professional abilities in physical education. The researcher designed content for student teachers to reflect upon related to self-perception, classroom management, implementation of teaching methodology, differences between teaching practice and lesson planning, and student learning. The student teachers were required to situate their reflections in relation to both the micro and macro context of teaching. The process of reflection included pre-teaching reflection, ongoing teaching reflection, and post-teaching reflection using teaching logs, case studies, detailed descriptions, and action research. Pre-teaching reflection included context analysis and decision-making. The context refers to the local or micro context of the school such as the goals of the school, human relationships, and facilities, as well as the macro context which is the national educational laws and reforms. The second step, decision-making, is based on the context analysis, to make decisions about teaching goals, content, methods, classroom management and assessment. The ongoing teaching reflection focuses on instant reactions to unexpected situations and realigns the lesson plan based on the real situation. The post-teaching reflection focuses on the appropriateness of the lesson to the teaching goals and methods. The results show that student teachers’ reflections focused on how to use the teaching methodology that they learned from classes in their own teaching and on the differences between teaching a real lesson and making lesson plans. This study represents a comparatively well-organized study on student teachers’ reflective processes and the impact of reflection on their teaching and professional ability. From the report, it can be observed that, although the researcher designed six areas for student teachers
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to reflect upon, student teachers seldom reflected on all these areas. Instead, they tended to focus more at a technical level – how to implement teaching methodology into their teaching and how to achieve the teaching goals that were set up in their lesson plans. Also, it is clear that students were not required to think about issues such as the worth and meaning of knowledge to students or question domination and repression (Van Mannen 1977) and to think about the realization of greater equity and social justice in schooling and the larger society (Zeichner 1996).
Conclusion Reflective teaching has gained some popularity in teacher education in China in the last decade. On the basis of the literature we have reviewed, the concepts and traditions of reflective teaching in Chinese teacher education discussed in publications are almost all based on western ideas rather than on traditional Chinese notions. However, the concept of critical reflection advocated by some western scholars is missing in the major thread of discussions in China. In practice, the literature shows that reflective teaching tends to be adopted more by school teachers than by teacher education programs and teacher educators. The content of reflective teaching is more about how to implement teaching methodologies and how to meet the teaching goals based on the curriculum and the broader educational rules and guidelines that are prescribed by the state. Teachers seldom rethink their own and students’ individual and cultural experiences or teaching and learning as processes to establish common understandings among students and teachers. Also, the literature does not show evidence of teachers’ reflections on the aspects of educational goals, experiences, and activities in terms of educational equity. Finally, one complicating phenomenon observed in Chinese publications is that although some authors put references at the end of their papers, they sometimes do not cite them in the text or they do not cite in the text nor provide references. Sometimes, it is obvious that some ideas or concepts are from other scholars; however, some Chinese scholars do not mention their sources. This makes it a difficult to track down the origins of the concepts and traditions of reflective teaching in China. Chinese have a long culture of respecting authority and tradition. Confucius’ concept of reflection focused on the individual level so as to perfect the individual’s actions. The use of the concept of reflective teaching in China shows some signs of this tradition in that teachers seldom relate their teaching to the larger socio-political context, nor do they question that context. The overwhelming impression though from the literature we reviewed is one of the use of western models. However, our conclusions are based on our analysis of a limited number of sources. There might be different conclusions drawn about reflective teaching concepts and practices in China if we went beyond this limited review. Also, further research and more data, such as from conversations with teachers and teacher educators, are needed to understand why Chinese teachers and teacher educators conceive of reflective teaching in particular ways. It is possible that traditional Chinese ideas about reflection and learning are more prevalent in practice, but we did not notice it in published sources.
Trends in the Evolution of Reflection in Teacher Education Today, 25 years after the publication of Donald Schon’s The reflective Practitioner, there is still much work going on in teacher education all over the world that is focused on the idea of preparing reflective teachers. Recent research has shown the importance of carefully structuring and scaffolding the reflections of student teachers through such things
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as the development of reflective tasks rather than just telling student teachers to go off and reflect with little guidance (e.g., Orland-Barak and Yinon 2007). Models of student teacher supervision have shifted to focus more directly on fostering teacher learning and reflection than on the summative assessment emphasis in the past (Pajak 2000).9 Research has also shown the importance of teacher educators modeling the kind of thoughtfulness and praxis that they expect from their student teachers (Lunenberg et€al. 2007; Loughran 1996). In fact, a whole literature of self-study has emerged that involves teacher educators studying their own practices and using these inquiries to improve their teaching (e.g., Loughran and Russell 2002). In recent years, the rational approach to reflection largely based within the USA on the work of John Dewey has been challenged by a variety of scholars like Fred Kothhagen in the Netherlands who have focused more in the spiritual and intuitive aspects of reflection and teacher learning (e.g., Korthagen and Vasalos 2005; Tremmel 1993; Rodgers and Raider-Roth 2006).10 Others have moved beyond the dominant tendency internationally to draw on the work of Dewey, Schon, Freire or Habermas as the basis for defining reflection and have examined the implications for reflective practice in the work of other scholars such as Kant (Proce 2006), the German tradition of Didaktik more generally (Westbury et€al. 2000), and Lacan (Markham 1999). There has also been a wide consensus among scholars that stage theories of teacher reflection that seek to help student teachers transcend reflection about technical issues of teaching so that they can focus exclusively on the social and political aspects of teaching are misguided (e.g., Fendler 2003; Shulman 1988; Zeichner 1996).11 Finally, there has also been a skepticism expressed by some that it is reasonable to expect, even with good teacher education and a recognition that we should not aim to transcend technical issues, that prospective and beginning teachers will be able to reflect about their work at more than a technical level (McIntyre 1993; Tickle 1996). This skepticism has been countered by research that shows that with the creation of certain environments for teacher learning, it is possible for student teachers to reflect about more than just technical issues (e.g., Darling-Hammond 2006). Despite all of these and other developments in the work on teacher reflection, there is still much conceptual confusion in our view about what people actually mean by the term reflection – whether they are attempting to promote a genuine kind of teacher learning that moves beyond the compliant implementation of external directives, and even if the teacher learning aimed for is genuine whether there is a link in their efforts to struggles within and outside of education to bring about a world with greater social justice for everyone.
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Walkington (2005) has argued that this shift in the literature on supervision and mentoring has not necessarily been accompanied by shifts in practice. 10 It should be noted that the role of emotions and imagination in reflection by teachers has been a topic of discussion for many years (e.g., Hullfish and Smith 1961). 11 This criticism does not necessarily apply to developmental frameworks of teacher reflection that encourage a progression toward more competence in dealing with ambiguity and uncertainty (Moon 2004). 9
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K. Zeichner and K.Y. Liu Houston, W. R. (1988). Reflecting on reflection in teacher education. In H. Waxman, H.J. Freiberg, J. Vaughn, & M. Weil (Eds.), Images of reflection in teacher education. (pp. 7–8). Howard, T. (2003). Culturally relevant pedagogy: Ingredients for critical teacher reflection. Theory into Practice, 42(3), 195–202. Hullfish, H. G., & Smith, P. G. (1961). Reflective thinking: The method of education. New York: Dodd, Mead & Co. Izumi, L., & Coburn, K. G. (January, 2001). Facing the classroom challenge: Teacher quality and teacher training in California’s schools of education. San Francisco, CA: Pacific Research Institute. Jackson, P. (1968). Life in classrooms. New York: Holt, Rinehart, & Winston. Jacob, E. (1995). Reflective practice and anthropology in culturally diverse classrooms. The elementary school journal, 95, 451–463. Jordan Irvine, J. (2003). Educating teachers for diversity: Seeing with a cultural eye. New York: Teachers College Press. Johnson, D., Johnson, B., Farenga, S., & Ness, D. (2005). Trivializing teacher education. Lanham, MD: Roman & Littlefield. Kemmis, S. (1985). Action research and the politics of reflection. In D. Boud, R. Keogh & D. Walker (Eds.), Reflection: Turning experience into learning (pp. 139–164). London: Croom Helm. Korthagen, F., & Vasalos, A. (2005). Levels in reflection: Core reflection as a means to enhance professional growth. Teachers and Teaching: Theory and Practice, 11(1), 43–72. Kremer Hayon, L. (1990). Reflection and professional knowledge: A conceptual framework. In C. Day, M. Pope, & P. Denicolo (Eds). Insights into tecahers’ thinking and practice (pp. 57–70). London: Falmer Press/Routledge. Lagemann, E. C. (2000). An elusive science: The troubling history of educational research. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. LaBoskey, V. K. (1994). Development of reflective practice: A study of pre-service teachers. New York: Teachers College Press. Lai, H. (2004). How to implement reflective teaching in middle school Chinese teaching. Journal Education Guidance, 4, 63–64. Liston, D., & Zeichner, K. (1991). Teacher education and the social conditions of schooling. New York: Routledge. Little, J. W. (2002). Locating teachers in communities of practice: Opening up problems of analysis in records of everyday work. Teaching and Teacher Education, 18, 917–946. Loughran, J. (1996). Developing reflective practice. London: Falmer Press. Loughran, J., & Russell, T. (2002) (Eds.). Improving teacher education practices through self-study. New York: Falmer Press/Routledge. Lu, Z. (2002). Fan si xing jiao xue de wu zhong chuan tong (Five traditions of reflective teaching). Bi jiao jiao yu yan jiu (Comparative Education Research), 1, 7–11. Lu, X. (2004). Fan si xing jiao xue zai da xue ying yu jiao xue zhong de yun yong (Application of reflective teaching in teaching college English). Journal of Huaiyin Teachers’ College, 26(3), 417–420. Lunenberg, M., Korthagen, F., & Swennen, A. (2007). The teacher educator as a role model. Teaching and Teacher Education, 23, 586–601. Lyall, K., & Sell, (2006). The true genius of America at risk: Are we losing our public universities to defacto privatization?. Westport, CT: Prager. Lyons, N. (1998). Portfolios and their consequences: Developing as a reflective practitioner. In N. Lyons (Ed.), With portfolio in hand: Validating the new teacher professionalism (pp. 247–264). New York: Teachers College Press. Markham, M. (1999). Through the looking glass: Reflective teaching through a Lacanian lens. Curriculum Inquiry, 29(1), 55–76. McIntyre, D. (1993). Theory, theorizing and reflection in initial teacher education. In J. Alderhead & P. Gates (Eds.), Conceptualizing reflection in teacher development (pp. 39–52). London: Falmer Press/ Routledge. McLaughlin, M., & Talbert, J. (2006). Building school-based teacher learning communities. New York: Teachers College Press. Milner, R. (2003). Teacher reflection and race in cultural contexts: History, meanings, and methods in teaching. Theory into Practice, 42(3), 173–180. Moon, J. (2004). Reflection in learning and professional development. London: Routledge. Orland-Barak, L., & Yinon, H. (2007). When theory meets practice: Student teachers’ reflections on their classroom discourse. Teaching and Teacher Education, 23(6), 857–869. Pajak, E. (2000). Approaches to clinical supervision (2nd ed.). Norwood, MA: Christopher- Gordon Publishers. Peck, R., & Tucker, J. (1973). Research on teacher education. In R. Travers (Ed.), Handbook of research on teaching (2nd ed., pp. 940–978). Chicago, IL: Rand McNally.
4â•… A Critical Analysis of Reflection as a Goal for Teacher Education Proce, H. (2006). Reflection in education: A Kantian epistemology. Educational Theory, 56(3), 237–253. Rennert-Ariev, P. (2008). The hidden curriculum of performance-based teacher education. Teachers College Record, 110(1), 105–138. Richardson, V. (1990). The evolution of reflective teaching and teacher education. In R. Clift, W. R. Houston & M. Pugach (Eds.), Encouraging reflective practice in education (pp. 3–19). New York: Teachers College Press. Richert, A. (1992). The content of student teachers’ reflections within different structures for facilitating the reflective process. In T. Russell & H. Munby (Eds.), Teachers and teaching: From classroom to reflection (pp. 156–170). London: Falmer Press. Robertson, S. (2000). A class act: Changing teachers’ work, the state, and globalization. London: Falmer Press. Rodgers, C. (2002a). Defining reflection: Another look at John Dewey and reflective thinking. Teachers College Record, 104(4), 842–866. Rodgers, C. (2002b). Seeing student learning: Teacher change and the role of reflection. Harvard Educational Review, 72(2), 230–253. Rodgers, C., & Raider-Roth, M. (2006). Presence in teaching. Teachers and Teaching: Theory and Practice, 12(3), 265–287. Schon, D. (1983). The reflective practitioner: How professionals thinking action. New York: Basic Books. Schon, D. A. (1987). Educating the Reflective Practitioner. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Shi, X. (2004). Developing professional capacities of practice teachers in physical education through reflective teaching. Journal of Beijing Sport University, 27(2), 238–240. Schwille, J., & Dembele, M. (2007). Global perspectives on teacher learning: Improving Policy and Practice. Paris: UNESCO Institute for Educational Planning. Shulman, L. (1988). The dangers of dichotomous thinking in education. In P. Grimmett & G. Erickson (Eds.), Reflection in teacher education (pp. 31–38). New York: Teachers College Press. Shulman, L. (1992). Research on teaching: A historical and personal perspective. In F. Oser, A. Dick, & J. L. Patry (Eds.), Effective and responsible teaching: The new synthesis (pp. 14–29). San Francisco, CA: Jossey Bass. Sirotnik, K. (Ed.). (2004). Holding accountability accountable: What ought to matter in public education. New York: Teachers College Press. Smyth, J. (1992). Teachers’ work and the politics of reflection. American Educational Research Journal, 29(2), 267–300. Smyth, J., Dow, A., Hattam, R., Reid, A., & Shacklock, G. (2000). Teachers’ work in a globalizing economy. London: Falmer Press. Sumson, J., & Fleet, A. (1996). Reflection: Can we assess it? Should we assess it? Assessment and Evaluation in higher Education, 21(2), 121–130. Swarts, P. (1999). Teacher education reform: Toward reflective practice. In K. Zeichner & L. Dahlstrom (Eds.), Democratic teacher education reform in Africa: The case of Namibia (pp. 29–46). Boulder CO: Westview Press. Tabachnick, B. R., Popkewitz, T., & Zeichner, K. (1979–1980). Teacher education and the professional perspectives of student teachers. Interchange, 10, 12–29. Tabachnick, B. R., & Zeichner, K. (Eds.). (1991). Issues and practices in inquiry-oriented teacher education. London: Falmer Press. Tatto, M. T. (Ed.). (2007). Reforming teaching globally. Oxford: Symposium Books. Tellez, K. (2007). Have the conceptual reforms (and one anti-reform) in pre-service teacher education improved the education of multicultural, multilingual children and youth? Teachers and Teaching: Theory and Practice, 13(6), 543–564. Tickle, L. (1996). Reflective teaching: Embrace or Elusion? In R. McBride (Ed.), Teacher education policy (pp. 135–148). London: Falmer/Routledge. Tremmel, R. (1993). Zen and the art of reflective practice in teacher education. Harvard Educational Review, 63(4), 434–458. Tse, H. (2007). Professional development through transformation: Linking two assessment models of teachers’ reflective thinking and practice. In T. Townsend & R. Bates (Eds.), Handbook of teacher education: Globalization, standards, and professionalism in times of change. (pp. 495–505) Springer: Dordrecht Vavrus, M. (2002). Transforming the multicultural education of teachers. New York: Teachers College Press. Valli, L. (Ed.). (1992). Reflective teacher education: Cases and critiques. Albany, NY: SUNY Press. Valli, L. (1997). Listening to other voices: A description of teacher reflection in the United States. Peabody Journal of Education, 72(1), 67–88. Van Mannen, M. (1977). Linking ways of knowing with ways of being practical. Curriculum Inquiry, 6, 205–228.
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K. Zeichner and K.Y. Liu Villegas-Reimers, E. (2003). Teacher professional development: An international review of the literature. Paris: UNESCO Institute for Educational Planning. Villegas, A. M., & Lucas, T. (2002). Educating culturally responsive teachers: A coherent approach. Albany, NY: SUNY Press. Villegas, A. M., & Lucas, T. (2004). Diversfying the teacher workforce: A retrospective and prospective analysis. In M. Smylie & D. Miretzky (Eds.), Developingthe teacher workforce (pp. 70–104). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Walkington, J. (2005). Becoming a teacher: Encouraging development of teacher identity through reflective practice. Asia-Pacific Journal of Teacher Education, 33(1), 53–64. Walsh, K. (2004). A candidate-centered model for teacher preparation and licensure. In F. Hess, A. Rotherham & K. Walsh (Eds.), A qualified teacher in every classroom (pp. 119–148). Cambridge, MA: Harvard Education Press. Wang, Q. (2001). Ying yu jiao shi xing dong yan jiu (Action research for teachers of English). Beijing: Foreign Language Teaching and Research Press. Wang, Z. (2004). Fan si xing jiao xue de chang shi: Xin ke cheng biao zhun xia ru he xie wu li jiao hou ji (Practice of reflective teaching: How to write a post -teaching journal for physics teaching under the new curriculum standard. Journal of Zhenjiang College, 17(2), 113–114. Ward, J., & McCotter, S. (2004). Reflection as a visible outcome for pre-service teachers. Teaching and Teacher Education, 20, 243–257. Westbury, I., Hopmann, S., & Riquarts, K. (Eds.). (2000) Teaching as reflective practice: The German didaktik tradition. New York: Erlbaum/Routledge. Xiong, C. (1999). Fan si xing jiao xue (Reflective Teaching). Shanghai: Eastern China Normal University Press. Xiong, C. (2002). Shuo fan si xing jiao xue de li lun yu shi jian (Theory and practice of reflective teaching). Shanghai Education New Research, 6, 4–9. Yu, L. (2003). Foreign Language Teachers Training and Reflective Teaching. Journal of Jinzhou Teachers College, 25(1), 123–126. Zeichner, K. (1981). Reflective teaching and field-based experience in teacher education. Interchange, 12, 1–22. Zeichner, K. (1987). Preparing reflective teachers: An overview of instructional strategies which have been employed in pre-service teacher education. International Journal of Educational Research, 11(5), 565–575. Zeichner, K. (1995). Beyond the divide of teacher research and academic research. Teachers and Teaching: Theory and Practice, 1(2), 153–172. Zeichner, K. (1996). Teachers as reflective practitioners and the democratization of school reform. In K. Zeichner, S. Melnick, & M. L. Gomez (Eds.), Currents of reform in pre-service teacher education (pp. 199–214). New York: Teachers College Press. Zeichner, K. (2003). Teacher research as professional development for P-12 educators in the U.S. Educational Action Research, 11(2), 301–325. Zeichner, K., & Liston, D. (1987). Teaching student teachers to reflect. Harvard Educational Review, 57, 23–48. Zeichner, K., & Liston, D. (1996). Reflective teaching: An introduction. New York: Routledge/Erlbaum.
Chapter 5
Education for the Law: Reflective Education for the Law Filippa Marullo Anzalone
This chapter will briefly trace the progression of legal education from the days of Christopher Columbus Langdell to the present era of experimentation in the legal academy. One of the teaching methods that has garnered particular attention is that of reflective practice, especially in, but not limited to, clinical settings. Encouraging lawyers to become intentional and reflective about their learning is a key to developing attorneys who are successful as life-long learners. Since law is a graduate program in American law schools, reflective practice treats nascent attorneys as adult learners and helps them to step back during the learning process to critically examine themselves and the nature of the profession that they are about to enter.
Introduction: Why Reflective Practice in Law? Learning to be a lawyer, becoming an advocate, is a complicated process. Lawyers learn to navigate and work within a complex framework of rules that are gleaned from the dissection of cases and the understanding of a vast array of statutes and regulations. In addition to a facility with the law itself, that is, understanding the law, knowing where to find it, how to analyze it, and when and how to apply it, lawyers have to know about the myriad implicit laws and customs of the jurisdictions in which they will practice. Thus, learning the law is not easy and it is not a straightforward task to teach students how to become lawyers. Introducing students to the profession of law has taken on a challenging and rather adversarial caste, especially in the first year classroom. The infamous 1€L classroom has been depicted as arduous and even torturous in modern popular literature and media.1
F.M. Anzaloneâ•› Boston College Law School, 885 Centre Street, Newton, MA 02459-1163, USA e-mail:
[email protected] See e.g., Turow, S. (1988). One L. New York: Farrar Straus Giroux. See also, The Paper Chase. (1973). Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation, Beverly Hills. The film was based on the novel by John Jay Osborn, Jr.
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Moving students from novice to expert levels of understanding is the process of teaching students to think like lawyers.2 Although there have been modifications, this process has been accomplished predominately by the legendary method of Socratic dialogue, also know as the case dialogue method, in most American law schools. William Prosser, the great torts scholar, compared the teaching of nascent lawyers to herding sheep. “You run around behind the students and bark at their heels, and head off the ones that start for the hilltops, and after a while, if you create enough commotion, they move down the valley and arrive at a destination without ever knowing how they got there.”3 Reflective practice is one way to deal with this lack of knowing because it provides opportunities for students to examine and test beliefs and principles against what is being learned doctrinally. Reflective practice helps students vet their own beliefs and value systems against the mores and norms of the legal profession. Through reflection, they are invited to examine themselves and the profession they are about to enter as they learn how to be lawyers. Reflective practice is used to achieve reflective equilibrium, a term first coined by coherentist philosopher Nelson Goodman. Reflective equilibrium is an attempt to explain the “end of a deliberative process in which we reflect on and revise our beliefs.”4 Reflective equilibrium is associated with political philosopher John Rawls who used it in his work.5 The term is used to describe the point at which a society’s leaders will examine the rules and laws of a society to ensure that they cohere with and act to bring about a just society in accordance with a rationally determined set of norms and values. Revision of both laws and values to increase justice and fairness follows, and is repeated as needed. The use of reflection in law school teaching acts as both an antidote to the dissociative elements of the law school experience and a step toward incorporation of the intellectual and the emotional; it is a step toward integration of the whole person into the learning process itself. Reflective practice can also provide balance, and even solace from the challenging, doctrine-laden law school pedagogy. The stress of law school leads many students to question their decisions to become lawyers. Reflective practice techniques, especially if used in the communal setting of the classroom, help students realize that they are not alone in their feelings of self doubt and anxiety. Using reflection helps students contextualize their learning and remember why they wanted to become lawyers in the first place. Reflective practice is integrative and even healing, it can encourage learners to draw on their own life experiences before and during law school, thus coming to the understanding that learning how to become a professional lawyer is not just about what takes place in the sometimes daunting law school classroom. Reflective practice encourages deep learning at the same time that it sets students, who are entering a career synonymous with justice, on the path to becoming successful lifelong learners.6
The teaching and learning of law as an inductive science via the scientific case method, or Socratic method, was promulgated by Christopher Columbus Langdell at Harvard Law School in the latter part of the nineteenth century. For an excellent early look at its efficacy, see Redlich, J. (1914). The Common Law and the Case Method in American University Law School: A Report to the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching. New York: The Carnegie Foundation. 3 Prosser, W. L. (1948). Lighthouse No Good. Journal of Legal Education, 1(2), 257-267. The article is the transcript of a speech that Prosser gave at Temple University Law School when he was Dean of California School of Jurisprudence. 4 The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Retrieved October 14, 2008, from http://plato.stanford.edu. 5 See Rawls, J. (1999). A Theory of Justice. Cambridge: Belknap Press. 6 For an excellent look at individual and collective attempts to humanize and integrate both mind and heart in lawyering, see Keeva, S. (1999). Transforming Practices: Finding Joy and Satisfaction in the Legal Life. Chicago: Contemporary Books. 2
5â•… Education for the Law: Reflective Education for the Law
Although the ancient philosopher Confucius esteemed the act of reflection as a noble learning method,7 it has not been given any space in law school pedagogy until the latter part of the twentieth century.8 For a greater appreciation of the novelty of the use of reflective practice in legal education, we will turn first to a review of the evolution of American legal education itself.
Some Background on American Legal Education Eighteenth century American law students did not attend classes; they apprenticed as clerks in law offices to learn the law. It was not a perfect system9 but it endured until the early twentieth century when the study of law started moving into the classroom as the first law schools in America opened in the East. The first school, the Litchfield Law School,10 opened in Connecticut in 1784. Because of its success, a number of imitators followed, including the New Haven Law School which was later to become Yale Law School and part of Yale University. The number of small schools that flourished during this period are often seen as the bridge between apprenticeship legal training and the university-based law degree. Some students combined attendance at these early schools with apprenticeship since their classes usually met for little more than an hour a day. This period in legal education has been described as a time of “vague aspirations and crude beginnings.”11 Legal education as career preparation still lacked the élan of a university degree even though professorships and law departments were being actively established in a number of universities during this time.12 These so-called law departments were not separate faculties in their respective universities; instead, their lectures were part of the general curriculum for the appreciation and general education of gentlemen.13 It was not until Christopher Columbus Langdell took over the Dane professorship of law at Harvard,14 established 40 years earlier for Joseph Story, that legal education took on a systematic and theoretical approach, and the case method study of the common law became The actual quote attributed to the Chinese philosopher and reformer who lived from 551 to 479bc is: “By three methods we may learn wisdom: first, by reflection, which is noblest; second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest.” 8 Reflection and the value of reflective practice started showing up in the literature of legal education when clinical legal education became widespread. For more information about clinical legal education, see Grossman, G. (1973–1974). Clinical Legal Education: History and Diagnosis. Journal of Legal Education, 26(2), 162-193. 9 In 1858, Abraham Lincoln opined that the best legal training was to “read Blackstone’s Commentaries, Chitty’s Pleadings, Greenleaf’s Evidence, Story’s Equity and Story’s Equity Pleadings, get a license, and go to the practice, and keep reading. That is my judgment of the quickest, cheapest, and best way…” Nortrup, J. (1968). The Education of a Western Lawyer. American Journal of Legal History, 12(4), 294-305, quoting from a letter dated Dec. 2, 1858 to James F. Thornton in Basler, R. P., ed. (1953–1955). The Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press. 10 The Litchfield Law School was founded by Judge Tapping Reeves, who eventually became the Chief Justice of the Superior Court of Connecticut in 1814. See Custer, L. B. (1993). Litchfield Law School: Educating Southern Lawyers in Connecticut. Georgia Journal of Southern Legal History, 2, 183-218. 11 Stone, H. F. (1924). Some Phases of American Legal Education. Central Law Journal, 97, 241-246. 12 See Friedman, L. M. (1985). A History of American Law, 2nd ed. New York: Simon & Schuster. 13 Ibid. 14 Langdell joined Harvard Law School in January of 1870 and became Dean that fall. Until he resigned as Dean of the Harvard Law School in 1895, Langdell reformed legal education and established the case method of legal education that is still the predominant form of law school classroom teaching. See Kimball, B. A. (1999). Warn Students that I Entertain Heretical Opinions, Which They Are Not to Take as Law: The Inception of Case Method Teaching in the Classrooms of the Early C. C. Langdell, 1870–1883. Law and History Review, 17(1), 57-140. 7
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the dominant construct to teach law students to “think like lawyers.” Langdell’s decanal reforms were instituted to improve the study of law and to elevate legal pedagogy from the pedantry of mere career training to that of an analytical science worthy of a university degree. With Socratic dialogue, Langdell hoped to encourage his students to move beyond the mere recitation of rules of black letter law to greater depths of understanding and analysis of the doctrine extracted from the cases that they were reading and discussing.15 Although Langdell’s pedagogical innovations were not popular in his day,16 the case dialogue method, also known as Socratic dialogue or the Socratic method in law schools, has been the bedrock of legal education for close to a 140 years. Except for the legal realist movement in the 1930s,17 most late nineteenth and early twentieth century attempts at educational reform did little to move away from Langdell’s theoretical conceptualism.18 Real change in the legal academy would have to wait until the advent of the clinical legal movement.
Transformation Begins in the Legal Academy; Making Way for the Use of Reflective Practice The twentieth century clinical movement has been one of the most radical innovations in law school pedagogy. Although it did not take lasting effect until the 1970s, the ideas for experiential education in the law schools actually germinated with Judge Jerome Frank’s criticism of Langdell’s dependence on the doctrine of stare decisis and a pedagogy rooted in formalism and books.19 In fact, the last 40 years have been a time of navel gazing in the legal academy as it attempts to adjust and realign itself to strike the right balance between traditional theoretically based learning modes and learning by doing.20 Although most law schools offer some form of clinical legal education, not every student can avail him or herself of the opportunity to participate in a clinic because clinics usually can accommodate only a small number of students. Thus, some critics of legal education have opined that there should be even more broad-based emphasis on practice in legal education. One such noteworthy critic was Robert MacCrate. In 1992, while a partner at New York’s Sullivan and Cromwell, MacCrate led a task force sanctioned by the American Bar Association’s Section on Legal Education and Admission to the Bar. The task force issued an appraisal21 of legal education that specifically called for more emphasis on practice and the development of legal skills in law schools. Although the scope of the task force report has since been
Sosteng, J. O. et€al. (2007). A Legal Education Renaissance: A Practical Approach for the Twenty-First Century. William Mitchell Law Review, 34(1), 303-472. 16 Ibid. 17 The legal realist movement is most closely associated with Jerome Frank and Karl Llewellyn. Legal realists were more instrumental in their approach to understanding the law than their contemporaries who espoused the Langdellian philosophy of legal logic and conceptual purity. See note 12 above. 18 For an excellent discussion of the evolution of legal education and its various reform movements, see note 12 above. 19 For a description of his ideas about legal education, see Frank, J. (1932–1933). Why Not a Clinical Lawyer School? University of Pennsylvania Law Review, 81(8), 907-923. See also, Frank, J. (1947). A Plea for Lawyer-Schools. Yale Law Journal, 56(8), 1303-1343. 20 See Report and Recommendations on the Task Force on Lawyer Competency: The Role of Law Schools. (1979). American Bar Association, Section of Legal Education and Admissions to the Bar. This particular task force was led by Roger Cramton, who later criticized the legal curriculum for being neither sufficiently theoretical nor practical, see Cramton, R. (1982). The Current State of the Law Curriculum. Journal of Legal Education, 32(3), 321-335. 21 Legal Education and Professional Development – An Educational Continuum, Report of the Task Force on Law Schools and the Profession: Narrowing the Gap. (1992). American Bar Association, Section of Legal Education and Admissions to the Bar. 15
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criticized for not going far enough in its assessment of legal education,22 the so-called MacCrate Report was a momentous wake-up call to the legal academy. It stands as the most significant paradigm shift in legal education for over a century23 and it added impetus to the work of the clinical legal movement in American law schools. In addition to the aspiration of providing students with valuable experiential learning through interactions with real clients,24 one of the most important goals of proponents of experience-based education in the academy has been the objective to provide students with tools to think about the role of lawyers. Law students are, after all, studying to become members of a profession. Thus, it is vital that students think about the role of lawyers in society and critically examine the legal profession that they are about to enter. Looking at what lawyers do and examining what roles lawyers play gives students a context for reading and understanding cases in the traditional classroom. It creates a foundation upon which students can develop and build their own professional skills. Examination of the legal profession along with exegesis of one’s personal value system can help learners cultivate practices for decision-making.25 In addition to providing insight into the role of lawyer as professional, reflection on role issues also brings a social and affective26 element to the study of law. Like most higher education, legal education is fundamentally based on intellectual inquiry. Reflective practice is an opportunity to slow down and step back during the cognitive process to critically examine one’s own reactions to the material. The process of reflective practice brings the student into the learning in a way that is both personal and social. It is a form of affective learning, that is, a way of bringing the emotional self into what is largely an intellectual process. The most recent study of the legal academy to reignite interest in educational reform is a 2-year study sponsored by the Carnegie Foundation. The authors, a team of respected legal educators and researchers,27 examined the teaching and learning taking place in a cross See Pearce, R. G. (2002–2003). MacCrate’s Missed Opportunity: The MacCrate Report’s Failure to Advance Professional Values. Pace Law Review, 23(2), 575-598. 23 For a look at the continuum of legal education reform efforts leading up to the MacCrate Report, see Engler, R. (2001). The MacCrate Report Turns 10: Assessing Its Impact and Identifying the Gaps We Should Seek to Narrow. Clinical Law Review, 8(1), 109-170. The author notes that MacCrate and others “placed the Report in the context of previous efforts including the Reed Report (1921), the writings of Jerome Frank in the 1930s and 1940s, and the Cramton Report (1979).” 24 See e.g., Givelber, D. J. et€al. (1995). Learning Through Work: An Empirical Study of Legal Internship. Journal of Legal Education, 45(1), 1-48. With co-authors Meltsner and Rowan, Givelber examines the cooperative externship program at Northeastern University Law School, internships in general, and their impact on law students’ learning. See also, Jaszi, P. et€al. (1999). Experience as Text: The History of Externship Pedagogy at the Washington College of Law, American University. Clinical Law Review, 5(2), 403-436. This piece reviews the development of a supervised externship program at the American University. 25 See Amsterdam, A. G. (1984). Clinical Legal Education – A 21st Century Perspective. Journal of Legal Education, 34(4), 612-618. Amsterdam is one of the one of the giants of the clinical legal movement. See e.g., Baker, B. K. (1994). Beyond MacCrate: The Role of Context, Experience, Theory, and Reflection in Ecological Learning. Arizona Law Review, 36(2), 287-356. This article suggests a paradigm shift in what is viewed as educative in the law school curriculum. 26 Bloom’s Taxonomy of Learning has three domains of educational activities: cognitive, affective, and psychomotor. The cognitive domain includes knowledge and intellectual skills such as recognition of patterns and procedures. In the order of degree of difficulty, the six categories within the domain are: knowledge, comprehension, application, analysis, synthesis, and evaluation. Each skill needs to be mastered to move on to the next. The affective domain includes the manner in which we deal with things emotionally i.e., feelings values, attitudes, enthusiasms, and motivations. The five categories, listed in order of complexity are: receiving phenomena, responding to phenomena, valuing, and organization, then internalization of values. For more information on the cognitive and affective domains, see Bloom B. S. (1956). Taxonomy of Educational Objectives, Handbook I: The Cognitive Domain. New York: David McKay Co Inc. and Krathwohl, D. R., Bloom, B. S., Masia, B. B. (1973). Taxonomy of Educational Objectives, the Classification, of Educational Goals. Handbook II: Affective Domain. New York: David McKay, Co., Inc. 27 The Carnegie Foundation team members were William M. Sullivan, Anne Colby, Judith Welch Wegner, Lloyd Bond, and Lee S. Shulman. 22
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section28 of American and Canadian law schools during the 1999–2000 academic year. The Carnegie Foundation research team’s provocative study has reopened and reenergized the dialogue on legal education’s goal of training students to “think like lawyers.”29 Legal education has tended to focus its pedagogy on doctrinal analysis to accomplish its goal of turning uninitiated novices into practicing attorneys. This concentration on cognition has been to the detriment of other worthy educational goals; namely, the improvement of problem solving and interpersonal skills. It has also exacerbated a disconnect between the legal academy and the profession. Law schools are being called upon to take up their responsibilities and give students the tools to scrutinize the social construct of what it means to be a professional lawyer.30 Law students are introduced to more than mere “thinking like a lawyer” in the law school classroom; they first encounter the conceptual framework of what being a lawyer means in their classes as well.31 It is incumbent on law professors, then, to help students make the connection between the instrumental and the meaningful in the study of law. The question of how to keep law students, and ultimately lawyers, from limiting, disjunctive perceptions,32 thereby experiencing serious disintegration in law school and in their professional lives, continues to beleaguer the academy.33 One of the ways that some legal educators have encouraged their students to become more intentional about their learning is by encouraging students to become more thoughtful about what they are doing and to become more reflective in and about the learning
The 16 schools that the team examined were Northeastern University School of Law; City University of New York School of Law at Queens College; New York University School of Law; North Carolina Central University School of Law; Vanderbilt University School of Law; Indiana University School of Law; Notre Dame University Law School; University of Minnesota Law School; Hamline University School of Law; University of Texas School of Law; University of New Mexico School of Law; California Western School of Law; Santa Clara University School of Law; Boalt Hall, University of California at Berkeley School of Law; University of British Columbia; and Osgoode Hall, York University. 29 The study’s findings have been published in a book: Sullivan, W. M., et€al. (2007). Educating Lawyers: Preparation for the Profession of Law. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. 30 For an interesting commentary on the state of legal education from the popular press, see Stracher, C. (2007, January 26). Meet the Clients: Law schools rarely teach students how to be lawyers. The Wall Street Journal. Retrieved from http://opinionjournal.com. Mr. Stracher’s article was prompted by the arrest of a paralegal who was practicing law illegally and doing quite well. “Legal education has been taking a beating recently. This month the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching issued a report criticizing the Socratic case method that dominates law-school teaching. According to the report, it does little to prepare lawyers to work with real clients or to resolve morally complex issues. Several months ago Harvard Law School announced a reform of its first-year curriculum to require classes in ‘problem solving,’ among other things. There appears to be an emerging consensus that although law schools may teach students how to ‘think like a lawyer,’ they don’t really teach them how to be a lawyer.” 31 Kronman, A. (1993). The Lost Lawyer: Failing Ideals of the Legal Profession. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. 32 This was eloquently expressed by Greg Kalscheur, S. J.: A crisis in meaning and value results when law students arrive at law school and experience themselves being formed to play the restricted role of skilled technician, a role, disconnected from larger questions of human aspiration. Instead of being introduced to the law as a deeply human activity that itself involves a search for meaning and value, law students can experience law school as an alienating trade school. In short, law school can be experienced as a form of narrow training that diminishes something central to the human person: the fundamental human drive to question and to follow those questions wherever they lead. Kalscheur, G. A. (1996–1997). Law School as a Culture of Conversation: Re-Imagining Legal Education as a Process of Conversion to the Demands of Authentic Conversation. Loyola University Chicago Law Journal, 28(2), 333-371. 33 A number of writers have written on holistic teaching and the spiritual side of lawyering. See, e.g., Hall, D. (2005). The Spiritual Revitalization of the Legal Profession: A Search for Sacred Rivers. Lewiston: Mellen Press. See also, Menkel-Meadow, C. (1994). Narrowing the Gap by Narrowing the Field: What’s Missing from the MacCrate Report-of Skills, Legal Science and Being a Human Being. Washington Law Review, 69(3), 593-624. Menkel-Meadow aims for an intertwined and conjunctive “art” of lawyering that does not privilege theory over skills or craft over doing good. 28
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process itself. Getting busy, competitive law students to slow down and reflect about their education is an essential component of preparing them for fulfilling careers in the law. Working with students to cultivate habits of reflection while in law school will help them to ultimately become reflective practitioners who will be more purposeful about life choices and more deliberative about decision-making in law practice. Professionals who are able to manage the intellectual and the emotional facets of practicing law will be happier and less prone to the debilitating effects of depression and alienation that plague the legal profession.34 Additionally, because law is a graduate program in American law schools, its students are, for the most part, adult learners. Fostering the use of reflective practice in the classroom is an adult learning best practice because it encourages students to be independent learners. Using reflective practice in the classroom is a means of modeling a holistic35 approach to learning that students will need to become empowered adult learners in their own law practices. Practicing attorneys who pay attention to their affective learning domain as acutely as their cognitive domain will have developed the learning skills and ability to become such successful life-long learners.36 This is important because the law school experience has been generally criticized for infantilizing37 learners and contributing to psychological distress and disintegration.38 One commentator has written that lawyers tend to demonstrate an overemphasis on analytical thought and rationality in situations without regard to the emotional or compassionate side of decision-making, and that lawyers tend to rely on legal solutions to problems that do not require legal action.39 Encouraging students to be reflective is an invitation to students to assess and evaluate their work as whole human beings. It is learning to discern on a humanistic as well as an analytical level. With reflective practice, students examine their actions and judgments. It helps students decide when a legal action is necessary and when it may not be the solution called for in a particular client’s situation.
It has been well documented that practicing lawyers suffer higher levels of depression, and alcohol and drug abuse than the general population. The causes are attributed both to the high stress of practice and the to the study of law. See Beck, C. J. A., et€al. (1995–1996). Lawyer Distress: Alcohol-Related Problems and Other Psychological Concerns among a Sample of Practicing Lawyers. Journal of Law & Health, 10(1), 1-60. 35 The term holistic is used ubiquitously in legal education today. In fact, “holistic lawyering” has become a term of art used to explain the idea of integrating personal values within the legal practice of an individual lawyer or group of attorneys. The International Alliance of Holistic Lawyers (IAHL) hosts conferences and workshops to help lawyers achieve this integration in their daily practices. 36 For an excellent and inspiring reflection on teaching, see Palmer, P. (1998). The Courage to Teach: Exploring the Inner Landscape of a Teacher’s Life. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Palmer’s teaching philosophy is rooted in connectedness and authenticity. 37 James Boyd White asserts that the core of the problem in legal education “lies in the definition of roles and relations: the definition of the teacher as the powerful and knowledgeable manipulator; of the student as a kind of child or infant without any responsibility beyond preparing for a routine examination...” White, J. B. (1986). Doctrine in a Vacuum: Reflections on What a Law School Ought (and Ought Not) to Be. Journal of Legal Education, 36(2), 155-166. 38 Gerald Hess, a leading authority on teaching and learning in law school, writes, “Legal education literature documents a number of disturbing effects of law school on law students. Many students experience the law school environment as stressful, intensely competitive, and alienating. Many suffer from high levels of psychological distress and substance abuse. During law school a significant number lose self-confidence, motivation to do public interest work, and their passion for learning.” Hess, G. F. (2002). Heads and Hearts: The Teaching and Learning Environment in Law School. Journal of Legal Education, 52(1), 75-111. See also, Krieger, L. S. (2002). Institutional Denial about the Dark Side of Law School, and Fresh Empirical Guidance for Constructively Breaking the Silence. Journal of Legal Education, 52(1), 112-129. 39 See Daicoff, S. (2004). Lawyer Know Thyself: A Psychological Analysis of Personality Strengths and Weaknesses. Washington, D.C.: American Psychological Association. 34
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An examination of the literature about legal education reveals that the use of reflective practice techniques is most often written about in clinical legal educational settings.40 This is understandable because it is in the clinical setting that law students put what they have learned theoretically into practice. One commentator has opined that “there is a sound and empirical basis for requiring law students to engage in the active process of extracting the common patterns in appellate cases, there is an equally sound basis for requiring clinical students to keep and maintain journals reflecting on the initial experience of practice.”41 The question however; remains what is the legal academy’s obligation in regards to teaching law students how to learn? Many law students complete their 3 years of law school, go on to successfully pass the bar examination, and enter practice without ever having had a clinical experience, an internship, or an externship as a required part of their legal education. Other law students come to legal education with highly developed analytical abilities and excellent learning and knowledge acquisition skills. They may already possess well-honed monitoring and self-diagnosing tools to satisfactorily assess their learning. Whether participating in a clinic or not, all law students would stand to benefit from using reflective practice techniques. It is the obligation of the legal academy to provide students with both a solid educational experience and, at the same time, to give them the tools to be able to take that experience apart, to reflect on what they have learned. One way to look at the experience of law school is to see it as a “cognitive apprenticeship.”42 The Carnegie Foundation Research team identified four basic methods that law school instructors used to advance case-dialogue, that is legal analysis, in class. The methodologies observed by the team were: “(1) modeling, by making cognition visible; (2) coaching, by providing guidance and feedback; (3) scaffolding, by providing support for students who have not yet reached the point of mastery; and (4) fading, by encouraging students when they are ready to proceed on their own.”43 The team also observed that students learn best when they have opportunities to “reflect on” their knowledge and performance in relation to models supplied by the teacher44 and that preparation for the professions is rarely confined to learning concepts in one kind of setting. The goal of law school, as for most professional schools, is to help students develop the ability to transfer learning so that they can successfully apply it.45 Reflective practice prepares students to deal with the uncertain and to develop competence in what Donald Schon46 has named the “indeterminate zones of practice,” to learn a “professional artistry” that he defines as “the kinds of competence practitioners sometimes display
See e.g., Weinstein, I. (2006-2007). Teaching Reflective Lawyering in a Small Case Litigation Clinic: A Love Letter to My Clinic. Clinical Law Review, 13(1), 573-604; and for a classic article that explores self-directed student learning in a clinical setting, see Meltsner, M., Schrag, P. G. (1978–1979). Scenes from a Clinic. University of Pennsylvania Law Review, 127(1), 1-55. A notable exception to this statement is an interesting article about teaching a traditional podium course that introduces the notion of judgment and decision-making via the use of casuistry. The author spent a semester teaching a course sponsored by the Carnegie Foundation in 2001. The seminar was for students pursuing joint divinity and law degrees at Vanderbilt and it focused on professional formation. An essential question for the author is that students be able to recognize the importance of answering the question, “What’s going on?” as a means of developing professional judgment. To be able to answer that question, a student would be assigning meaning – often gleaned from the expertise and practice of other disciplines. Welch, D. D. (2004–2005). “What’s Going On?” In the Law School Curriculum. Houston Law Review, 41(5), 1607-1624. 41 See Blasi, G. L. (1995). What Lawyers Know: Lawyering Expertise, Cognitive Science, and the Functions of Theory. Journal of Legal Education, 45(3), 313-397. 42 See note 29 above. 43 Ibid. 44 Ibid. 45 Ibid. 46 See Schon, D. A. (1987). Education the Reflective Practitioner. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. 40
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in unique, uncertain, and conflicted situations of practice.”47 Learning how to practice law is then not an entirely cognitive activity. Legal education’s explicit recognition of the teaching/ learning dyad as having both an emotional/passionate side as well as a cognitive/intellectual side would go a long way to encourage student learning.48 The legal academy has heard its critics and commentators and has slowly been retooling its curriculum49 to meet the challenges of preparing lawyers ready for practice in the twentyfirst century. In the rest of this chapter, we examine the conceptual framework of reflective practice and look at some of the creative ways that legal educators have used to incorporate this powerful learning methodology into their teaching.
Teaching Law Students to Become Reflective Practitioners Chris Argyris, who worked with Donald Schon, has a message that is resonant for law school teachers and learners. Basically, Argyris posits that the smartest people we know, and this means well-educated professionals and professionals in the making, probably do not know how to learn.50 Why? Because successful people who have never, or seldom, experienced failure may have a hard time mustering the humility that it takes for the critical self-examination and discernment that is synonymous with reflective practice. Argyris suggests that intelligent professionals are usually self-conscious about their own behavior – sometimes to the point of self-defensiveness.51 Argyris proposes that critical self-reflection can help professionals become more self aware and that, by an examination of their own behaviors, professionals can discover how their actions may be contributing to, or detracting from, the health of their respective organizations.52 Thus, reflective practice would seem particularly useful for professions with a proscribed code of ethics or conduct53 such as law. It is instructive to apply Argyris’ proposals to learning the law. To
Ibid. Stephen Brookfield has written that to “devote yourself to keeping classrooms free from the messiness of emotions is to deny much of the power of learning and teaching.” Brookfield, S. D. (1990). The Skillful Teacher: On Technique, Trust, and Responsiveness in the Classroom. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. 49 Although reform efforts are as old as legal education itself, the most recent Carnegie Report has spurred a number of programs, conferences, articles, and blogs. See e.g., the Best Practices for Legal Education Blog, sponsored by Albany Law School. The site has two stated goals: “1) to create a useful web-based source of information on current reforms in legal education arising from the publication of Roy Stuckey’s Best Practices for Legal Education and the Carnegie Foundation’s Educating Lawyers; and 2) to create a place where those interested in the future of legal education can freely exchange ideas, concerns, and opinions.” Best Practices for Legal Education. (2008, October 14). About this Blog. Post on http://bestpracticeslegaled.albanylawblogs.org/. 50 See Argyris, C. (1991). Teaching Smart People How to Learn. Harvard Business Review, 69(3), 99-110. 51 Ibid. 52 Ibid. 53 Judy McFarlane writes that “A reflective-practice model requires each practitioner to develop a capacity for reflective self-analysis of their effectiveness in practice situations and to adopt a systematic approach to the learning that accrues. Reflective practice increases professional effectiveness by enhancing awareness of the impact of contextual factors and constraints, raising the level of responsiveness and flexibility, and emphasizing self-growth which builds on experience. Research consistently demonstrates that the individual practitioners considered by their peers to exemplify excellence are significantly better than both novices and their more experienced colleagues at successfully integrating their new experiences into their existing models of action and knowledge. McFarlane, J. (2002). Mediating Ethically: The Limits of Codes of Conduct and the Potential of a Reflective Practice Model. Osgoode Hall Law Journal, 40(1), 49-88, quoting from Chi, M. T. H., Glaser, R., Farr, M. J. (1988). The Nature of Expertise. Hillsdale: Erlbaum. 47 48
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illustrate, law students must study and learn substantive, black letter law. They also study the code of professional responsibility that regulates attorney behavior. And they already, presumably, have ingrained belief systems and mental models of their own. By learning techniques of reflective practice, that is, how to step back, compare, and think about the convergence and divergence of their own values with the law and the regulation of attorney behavior, they would have a sorting mechanism, so to speak, a way to carve out a meaningful response to the plethora of information that they are taking in on a daily basis. “In order to make sense and achieve a deep understanding of material and experiences students need to relate new information to existing knowledge and experiences. This is best achieved through a process of reflection.”54 In a recent book on best practices for legal education, helping students to improve their “self-directed learning skills” was identified as a best practice for general instruction. The rationale offered is that, after graduation, students would not always have opportunities for feedback and critiques from others; thus, since law school graduates will be learning for the duration of their professional lives, the skill set of self-directed learning skills must be developed while still in school. The authors identify self-directed learning skills as “a cyclical process in which self-directed learners appropriately classify the demands of a learning task, plan strategies for learning what needs to be learned, implement those strategies while self-monitoring the effectiveness and efficiency of the chosen strategies, and reflect on the success of the process afterwards, especially how the learner will handle a similar, future task.”55 In the next section, we turn to a description of some thought-provoking and exciting examples of pedagogical techniques that have been, and are being used in, American law schools to encourage law students to be reflective about their work so that their learning becomes a transformative process as they become legal professionals.
A Look at Some Uses of Reflective Practice in Legal Education Some legal educators are using creativity and insight to bring reflective practice into American law schools. Some of the initiatives are used in the curriculum, in the classroom and others are used outside, co-curricular, law school activities. A number of legal educators use journaling,56 writing responses, and peer discussion groups as reflective practice methodologies in both substantive classes and clinical settings. Some legal educators concentrate their efforts on role plays and simulations, with directed readings, discussions, and writing following the presentations. Other law schools offer co-curricular opportunities such as guided retreats or weekends devoted to individual and group reflection.
Hinett, K. (2002). Developing Reflective Practice in Legal Education. Warwick: UK Centre for Legal Education, University of Warwick. 55 Stuckey, R. et€ al. (2007). Best Practices for Legal Education: A Vision and A Road Map. New York: Clinical Legal Association, quoting from Schwartz, M. H. (2005). Expert Learning for Law Students. Durham: Carolina Academic Press. 56 Interestingly, one legal educator communicated that she now uses the terms “reader’s memos” or “writer’s memos” instead of “journals” because of the visceral reactions that some students have had to the latter word. Professor Linda Berger, of Thomas Jefferson Law School, shares that she has observed that fewer students seem willing to be reflective. She attributes this perceived trend to the increased use of journals and other reflective practices at both the undergraduate and high school level. E-mail to author, 13 March 2008. 54
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One such interesting and effective co-curricular offering is Boston College Law School’s Sidebar57 program. Sidebar retreats usually take place once a semester. A group of about 20 students, accompanied by four or five faculty members and a coterie of student leaders, go away for 3 days and 2 nights of reflection, writing, and discussion. The Sidebar retreats are rooted in the Jesuit concept of discernment.58 The Sidebar weekends give students an opportunity to slow down, to stand back from their busy schedules and examine how they feel about their decisions to become an attorney. Through solitary reflection and writing and guided discussions and group sharing, students are encouraged to examine their personal value systems against what they have learned and are learning about being a lawyer. This process of self-reflection gives the students time and space to critically look at the profession and their place in it. It also emphasizes the need for community and the importance of self-care in practice. At the Franklin Pierce Law Center, a law professor,59 who directs the school’s honors program,60 reports that his students work on a number of individual and collaborative reflective practice assignments. At the conclusion of each honors course, the students write a reflective paper on the course itself, their participation in the course, their perceived strengths, and areas for improvement. The students use the skills and values identified in the MacCrate Report61 as a rubric. The honors students do reflective group work as well. For example, third year law students in the honors program’s capstone course explored the complex dynamics involved in an initial client meeting and interview. After readings and class discussion, the students participated in class interview simulations. After each session, the interchange was orally critiqued by peers. After the class feedback, the interviewer had an opportunity for comments. The last piece of the reflective practice loop was accomplished when the instructor distributed an evaluation form for the class to complete. The form is based on feedback from the point of view of the client – the person interviewed.62 The students fill out this form after observing the next class interview. Both oral comments and the forms are made available to the student “lawyer” completing the interview in question. The class continues in this way, role playing interviews followed by peer critiques. As the simulations continue, they contain increasingly complex potential conflicts. After the initial in-class interview simulations, pairs of students, each with a different fact pattern, are paired with a client that
I participated in a Sidebar retreat in January 2008. The other faculty members were: Professors R. Michael Cassidy, Gregory A. Kalscheur, S. J., Mark Spiegel, and Dean for Students Norah Wylie. We considered issues of vocational and professional choices and discernment. The questions that the group considered, based on video lectures by Professor Michael J. Himes of the Boston College Theology Department, can be summed up as follows: What gives you joy?; Are you good at it?; and, Does the world need it? The thematic questions led, of course, to more complex presentations of materials with ensuing discussions. Both faculty and student leaders shared their own reflections and stories with the group. There was a wonderful sense of authenticity and camaraderie among the Sidebar participants which was very affirming for all involved. The group was diverse, in age, race, and faith-tradition. It was exhilarating for “experts” entrenched in their careers to share and be humble with “novices” who were idealistically beginning the second semester of their first, second, or third year in a competitive law school. 58 Cultivation of the habit of discernment is the goal of a Jesuit education. Jesuits describe an education as having three parts: being attentive; being reflective; and being loving. Such an education results in “good decision-making” that was described by Ignatius of Loyola, the Jesuits’ founder, as discernment. See Boston College Office of University Mission and Ministry. 2003. A Pocket Guide to Jesuit Education. Retrieved from http://www.bc.edu/offices/mission/publications/guide.html. 59 Professor John Burwell Garvey, Franklin Pierce Law Center. 60 The Daniel Webster Scholar Honors Program. 61 See note 5 above. 62 According to Professor Garvey, the form is based upon work done by Paul Maharg, of the Glasgow Graduate School of Law, and Clark Cunningham, of Georgia State Law School, in connection with “standardized clients.” 57
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they are instructed to interview outside class time. The students tape the interviews and the “client” completes an evaluation form. Before the “lawyer” reads the client’s evaluation form, she watches the tape of her own interview and completes an evaluation of her own performance. The students then compare the client and lawyer evaluation forms. After consideration of differences between the two assessments, the students write a short reflective paper that discusses discrepancies between their analyses of the interview. Finally, the students reflect upon what they have learned from this process. Afterwards the class discusses the entire progression. The decision-making skills that this reflective exercise encourages will help young lawyers to methodically take apart their problem-solving skills and help them develop critical thinking skills. It is also a wonderful way of helping students recognize that personal point of view and values can color the way one reads a situation. At Southern Methodist University Law School, a faculty member63 who supervises legal externships in various practice settings, requires his students to keep and submit journals every 2 weeks. His externship memo to the students provides requirements to help the students configure their journal entries. The faculty member’s directions to the students is a manifesto of why reflective practice is important to the learning process. The directions to the students are as follows: A journal has many functions, but for our purposes the most significant are these: (a) It provides a deeper and more detailed reflection on how, during the externship you implement the skills, knowledge, and values learned in law school (b) It provides a systemic way to reflect on and analyze your experiences during the externship by pushing you to critically examine and clarify your performance, thoughts, and feelings (c) It provides you and me with common data for discussion (d) It provides me data by which I can evaluate the pedagogical value of the externship and the quality of your supervision In short, your journal should not be just an account of your activities. Rather, it should record what you are thinking and feeling about your externship experiences. There are no strict requirements for the content of your journal entries. Record entries that assist your own learning. If you have a problem in deciding what to record, you might try to write entries for one or more of the following topics: (a) Critique your performance of a task, or the feedback you received for some work you did or a task you performed (b) Explore the technical skills being learned in terms of the broader web of professional and personal values in the context in which the skills are being learned (c) Examine what you are learning about how you learn from experience. How do you best learn a specific type of content or process? What facilitates your learning? What inhibits your learning? (d) How do group dynamics impact your learning? (e) How do you see applying what you are learning now to your future endeavors? Is your learning transferable to other settings? How might this best be accomplished? (f) What are your perceptions or feelings about the legal system, or the professional ethics of lawyers you observed?64.
Professor Frederick C. Moss, Dedman School of Law, Southern Methodist University. E-mail to author, 10 March 2008. 64 Memorandum from Professor Moss to his students, 11 January 2008. 63
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At other schools, legal educators have experimented with using contemplative65 techniques in the classroom. Contemplative practice is esteemed for its mild stabilizing qualities. At the University of San Francisco Law School, an adjunct professor,66 who is also a practicing attorney, has been experimenting with these techniques for almost a decade. In her real estate transactions and real estate securities law classes, she asks students to take a few moments in silence at the end of class to meditate. The professor reports that “students sit up straight, close their computers, put their feet flat on the floor, and (most of them) close their eyes.”67 The professor leads the students through 5€minutes of guided meditation and, at the end of the session, reads a poem to the class. She reports that the students respond positively to the closure of the class and that she has received enthusiastic comments on teaching evaluations for the past 8 years about the exercise. Because of the enthusiastic response to this class closure exercise, a group of faculty members at the law school are planning to inaugurate a weekly 45€minute guided contemplative practice time in a library conference room. The group plans to also make the room available for self-guided meditation and reflection for an hour every other day of the week. The instructor is currently developing a semester long course on Contemplative Practices for Lawyers that will be launched in Spring 2009. Attempts to humanize law practice have important implications for the future of the practice of law. It can increase empathy and transform practitioners to be “more compassionate, wise, and effective in every walk of lawyering.”68 However, not all attempts to bring reflective practice techniques into the classroom are successful. A professor69 at Georgia State University College of Law reports that she has experimented with a reflective assignment in her civil procedure class. According to the professor, the point of the exercise is to help the students learn to parse a legal rule into its component parts and to use facts to argue both sides of a legal rule. The students write an essay answer to a one-page, fact based question. The professor then gives the students a detailed, annotated model answer to the problem. On the first assignment, the students write a reflective exercise that identifies what they did well, improvements that they need to make, and how they plan to improve. The reflective piece is due a week after receiving the model answer. The students are also required to do two other writing with reflection exercises: one, immediately after they complete their answer but before
65 The Center for Contemplative Mind in Society sponsors a Law Program. The following paragraph is from the Program’s Web site: The Law Program explores ways of helping lawyers, judges, law professors, and students reconnect with their deepest values and intentions, through meditation, yoga, and other contemplative and spiritual practices. We run retreats and events, which provide a framework for considering ways in which contemplative awareness can enhance and enrich our professional and personal lives, and bring them more into balance. Our retreats address questions and ideas from both a contemplative and legal perspective: the nature of winning and losing, the role of compassion in adversarial situations, truth and “right speech,” Socratic and contemplative methods of inquiry, action and nonaction, separation and connection, and listening. See The Center for Contemplative Mind in Society. The Law Program. Retrieved October 14, 2008 from http:// www.contemplativemind.org/programs/law/. 66 E-mail to author, 10 March 2008. Judi Cohen, with Stein Rudser Cohen & Magid LLP, of Oakland, CA, teaches at the University of San Francisco Law School. 67 Ibid. 68 See note 6 above. 69 Professor Andi Curcio, Georgia State University College of Law. E-mail to author, 14 April 2008.
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they receive a model answer70; and the second is in class, immediately after receiving a model answer.71 The professor reports that while some people find the initial reflective exercise to be useful, other students consider it a waste of time. None of the students have liked doing the second reflective exercise without the annotated answer and, by the third reflective exercise, very few students find the reflective practice assignment worthwhile. This reaction may be due either to reflection overkill or it may be simply that students are unwilling to reflect on their work for a sustained period of time, and that they are anxious to move on with something new. It does seem that Chris Argyris’ belief72 that the best learners find it difficult to be reflective about their learning may be a factor in the students’ reaction to this thoughtfully constructed series of assignments.
Conclusion Twenty-first century lawyers are moving into a world that is far more complex and nuanced than the nineteenth century milieu of Christopher Columbus Langdell. Langdell’s law students’ needs had eclipsed the unregulated apprenticeships of the eighteenth century that had preceded legal education’s move into the classroom. Although the case method and Socratic dialogue will probably always have a place in legal education, it will not be, and has not been, the sole pedagogy of the legal academy.
Reflective exercise to be completed after doing a draft answer. Where did you look to identify all the applicable subparts of the rule? In the last exercise you may have identified what you would do differently to identify and lay out subparts of the applicable rule. Did you do that in this exercise? Did it help you organize your answer? If not, how would you do it differently next time? As you wrote out the answer, were there any places in which you were not sure what the law meant or how to apply it? If so, what did you do to clarify your understanding of the legal rule or its subpart? How did you choose which facts to use to make your arguments? Underline the facts you did not use. In re-reading your answer, can you think of some place you might use those facts? Looking over your draft answer, identify each place you did not argue for both sides. Can you now think of any argument you could make but you did not make? Looking over your draft answer, identify each place you made a conclusory argument (i.e., didn’t use facts to support your argument). Rewrite that sentence or paragraph so that you argue using the facts. If, in the earlier exercise, you noticed that you were making conclusory arguments and came up with a plan to avoid making those arguments this time, did you use your plan? Was it effective? How would you improve upon that plan? 71 Reflective exercise after getting the model answer. Did you identify all the subparts of the rule that you see in the model answer? If no, why do you think you missed a subpart? What will you do differently next time? In comparing your use of facts to the way that the facts were used in the model answer, what is same and what is different? If the model answer used facts more extensively than you did, how can you work more facts into your analysis next time? Identify how the model answer incorporated a policy analysis. Is it similar to what you did? If not, how is it different? If you did not incorporate a policy analysis and wanted to do so what would you do differently next time? In reviewing the model answer and your answer, do you now see any places where you could have argued both sides and failed to do so? How can you make sure you argue both sides in future answers? In reviewing the model answer and your answer, do you now see any conclusory statements that you didn’t see before the comparison? How can you avoid making conclusory statements next time? 72 See note 50 above. 70
5â•… Education for the Law: Reflective Education for the Law
The issue facing legal education at this point in time is that of finding the right balance, the right mix of pedagogical methods. The Carnegie Foundation findings are the most recent in a long line of critiques of the academy. According to the Carnegie team, Legal education may have a problem of diminishing returns – one that a better integration of the cognitive apprenticeship with the practical and professional could help to prevent. On the curricular level, this need for integration points toward a reconfigured third year (and probably some reconfiguration of the second year as well), marked by pedagogies of practice and professionalism that enable students to shift from the role of students to that of apprentice professionals.73
In legal education, as in law, tradition is honored and change can be slow. The use of reflective practice concepts in the law school classroom and in co-curricular activities with law students is a realistic, achievable, and measurable way to improve learning. While we wait for broadbased curricular reform, and while the academy thoughtfully discusses the pros and cons of reconfiguring the second and third year of the law school curricula, the use of reflective practice techniques will help this generation of law students develop the “types of knowledge, skills and abilities that are expected of graduates in today’s society. Reflective practice also provides a way of ensuring that students gain the resilience and resourcefulness they need to continue to be lifelong learners and effective lawyers. The introduction of reflection into legal education poses pedagogical, practical and political challenges to the existing status quo, but it has the potential to transform learning for teachers and students alike.”74
73 74
See note 29 above. See note 53 above.
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Chapter 6
Reflective Inquiry in the Medical Profession C. Anthony Ryan
Introduction Medicine is changing fast. Since its Hippocratic foundation over 2,500 year ago, it has become increasingly scientific, technological, commercialized and commoditized (Starr 1992). A doctor is a member of a largely self-regulating profession where the right to selfregulation is traded for expert knowledge and public safety, with societal expectations of accountability and transparency. However, this social contract and trust between doctor and patient is being challenged (Hafferty and Levinson 2008), with less deference to authority, greater expectations and widespread access to previously unavailable medical and scientific information. In this way, patients have changed too. The era of benign paternalism, where the doctor acts as the “broad shoulders” to carry the patient’s problems, is gone. Autonomy is king; medical litigation is rising and patient safety in contemporary complex health systems is of great concern. Doctors are also changing in order to advance and cope with the undeniable technological successes of medicine that continue to emerge. But, in addition to public expectations, they are burdened by the knowledge dilemma, with medical knowledge doubling every 5 years, of which 85% is obsolescent within 15 years (Robinson 1993). The modern medical expert is no longer able to absorb all knowledge (“the filling of the pail” WB Yeats) but must become an expert at assessing, interpreting, applying and communicating current knowledge in a particular area through a habit of life-long learning and curiosity (“the lighting of a fire”: W.B. Yeats1). A number of countries are recognizing the changing face of medicine and are implementing new strategies to adapt the curriculum of medical and dental schools to meet these new demands. The medical associations of Canada (Societal Needs Working Group. CANMEDS 2000 project 1996), the United States (Ende et€ al. 1997), Scotland (Revalidation Folder 2003), England and Wales (General Medical Council 1998) all created task forces to outline core competencies for new physicians. The products have taken slightly different forms, but every one of them focuses on operationalizing specialist physician roles to meet the needs of the modern doctor (Leung and Diwakar 2002; Irvine 1997). The CANMEDS project described seven essential roles of specialist physicians including
C.A. Ryan Department of Paediatrics and Child Health, University College Cork, Cork, Ireland e-mail:
[email protected] Yeats, W.B. “Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of the fire”.
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N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_6, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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Medical Expert, Health Advocate, Manager, Scholar, Professional, Communicator and Collaborator. The strength of the CANMEDS project is in the way it was developed with input from the professional and lay public. Other advantages include its simplicity and comprehensiveness. There is one framework that can cut across the CANMEDS roles and similar competencies outlined by the Association of American Medical Colleges (Ende et€al. 1997). That instrument is reflective inquiry, which consists of four components; reflection before action (RbA), knowing in action (KiA), reflection in action (RIA) and reflection on action (RoA). RbA is how experts psychologically prepare for a medical encounter. KiA is how doctors think and react, almost automatically, which is particularly important in emergency situations. RIA is how doctors make decisions, how they can get it wrong and how they can avoid making cognitive errors. RoA can help doctors appraise and improve their practice through rich descriptions and aesthetic inquiry into important and often complex events that occur during the daily practice of medicine. Reflection on action can be viewed as learning from experience: sweating the small stuff in order to improve the big stuff. It is a way of turning straw (information) into gold (understanding). It is a complementary strand to technical rationality and an important response to changing patient and societal expectations. In contrast to the medical profession, other health professionals including nursing, clinical therapy specialties and social sciences have been incorporating the concept and practice of reflection in their education and practice for decades. Medicine has always acted as though it were unique. Because of its empirical origins, it has been slow to adopt the language, discourse and qualitative nature of reflective inquiry. Indeed, superficially at least, RI could be seen as the antithesis of traditional medical education, which operates through objectification and desensitisation in order to prepare and protect the medical student for the challenges and emotions of medical practice. As Ann Fadiman says in her book, about the Hmong refugees in North America (Fadiman 1997): “The failure of reflection does an excellent job of removing medical students of their emotions. The desensitization starts on the first day when they are handed scalpels to dissect the cadaver, the ideal patient, since it can’t be killed, never complains and never sues”. Such emotional distance, detached concern and compassionate detachment in medical practice have been confirmed by Coulehan (1995) and Croskerry et€al. (2008). We can all recognize the non-reflective doctor (Theodosakis and Feinberg 2000, p. 81). Dr Rush is under pressure from his practice managers to see more and more patients in less time. Because good thinking takes time, his risks of diagnostic and therapeutic errors are high. Over time, he may evolve into Dr Burnout, defensive, disillusioned, and unhappy. Dr Hopeless can not cope with the increasing complexities of medicine. He is overwhelmed by the knowledge dilemma, uncertainty and change. As he fails to maintain his skills or develop new ones, he tries to “play safe.” However, his thinking is vague, limited and rigid. He refuses to explain his diagnoses and is inattentive to complaints. Dr Knowsbest is undeniably clever but his manner is condescending and paternalistic. He does not see the patient: he sees the diagnosis at the end of a tunnel. He is inattentive to the subtle clues of practice is and defensive when challenged: “Who are you to question my diagnosis?” “He is the cartoon version of the all head-no-heart formalist doctor, who when presented with a problem, would rather medicate it, scan it, suture it, splint it, excise it, anaesthetize it or autopsy it rather than communicate with it” (Fadiman 1997). These may once have been good doctors, who had superior ideals, values and motivation entering medical school. Something seems to have happened to them as they progressed through their medical life that robbed them of the milk of human kindness and their natural inclinations to do a good job (Kenny and Shelton 2006). Managed care, medical liability, cost control, knowledge overload, the pressure to see more patients, and consuming paperwork created significant stressors in their professional practices
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(Smith 2001; Theodosakis and Feinberg 2000). As a result, they became de-professionalized, “bereft of the essentials of the character traits associated with good doctoring” (Pellegrino 2002). Undeveloped professional skills create less satisfying relationships between patients and physicians creating cynicism and distrust for both (Kenny and Shelton 2006). In addition to concerns about patient care and patient safety, these doctors are poor, even negative and dangerous role-models for their students, the doctors of the future. Yet tomorrow’s doctors will face arduous multidimensional health challenges (World Health Report 2007). Doctors are going to need a broad range of essential, core skills to deal and adapt with these concerns. Rational intelligence alone is insufficient to meet these challenges. The thesis of this chapter is that reflective inquiry is one tool that can help students and doctors become experiential, life-long learners, and develop the core skills, attitudes and character traits that will let them flourish in complex medical systems, while maintaining the humanistic side of medicine. There are three subsequent sections in this chapter. In the first section, the components of reflective inquiry (RbA, KiA, RiA, RoA) are described in relationship to medical practice and current cognitive understandings of how doctors think in practice. These concepts are illustrated in part through a clinical case study in neonatology, demonstrating the thought patterns of the metacognitive doctor and the potential cognitive biases to which he is predisposed. Reflective inquiry in the educational continuum is the subject of the second section. Issues discussed include the reflective learner, the reflective teacher, and paedagogical strategies for incorporating reflective inquiry into medical education. A brief history of the evolution of medical education sets the scene for a discussion on the modern medical curriculum, medical school student selection criteria and research in reflective inquiry. The final section concludes with thoughts on how reflective medical practitioners, who can cope with the complexities and uncertainty of modern medicine in a patient–physician partnership, can be selected, developed and sustained.
Section€1: The Four Components of Reflective Inquiry in Medicine The components of reflective inquiry as proposed by Schon (1983), reflection before action (RbA), knowing-in action (KiA) reflection in action (RiA) and reflection on action (RoA), are defined as fundamental tenets in the education and practice of the reflective professional (Fig.€6.1). Although these concepts may be inseparable in the personal and professional life of a doctor, for clarification, I will approach them as if they were separate entities.
Reflection Before Action The boy-scout’s motto “Be Prepared” is a call to RbA, with the rationale that, “by failing to prepare, we are preparing to fail” (Benjamin Franklin). In medical practice, often fraught with complexity and uncertainty, the novice practitioner is recalling his limited experiences as he moves towards an encounter with a patient. What can I expect to hear and see upon arrival? What do I know and how will I know when I am out of my depth? When will I need to call for help? He is also checking his mood and his ability to selfregulate. How will I be able to cope with having had only 2€h of sleep last night, while on-call? What does sleep deprivation do to my thinking, the way I work with others? The experienced practitioner is on autopilot as he makes his way to the encounter. Nevertheless, he reminds himself to be open for cues that will trigger his ability to move beyond the
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Components of Reflective Inquiry in Medical Practice
A. RbA
B. KiA
C. RiA
Preparing for patient encounter, potential chaos & uncertainty through:
Responding sub-consciously or automatically to “variations” in practice
Responding to “surprises” in practice through:
• Forward planning • Self regulation • Reflection on prior
• Intuition • Pattern recognition • Rapid metacognition
• Medical expertise • Metacognitive tool-kit • Clinical reasoning • Cognitive Biases
experience
D. Ro A
Looking back on the past to change future practice:
• Critical literacy • Tacit knowledge • Physician appraisal • Aesthetic inquiry
Fig.€ 6.1╅ The components, definitions and features of reflective inquiry in medical practice that are addressed in this chapter
intuition he has gained from experience. What traps have I fallen into, what potential complications can arise in similar situations? What mistakes have I or others made in similar circumstances? Cognitive mechanisms of experts. There are two major cognitive mechanisms by which the expert doctor thinks and responds to variations and surprises in practice. Schön (1983) calls them KiA and RiA. Quirk (2006) refers to them as intuition and metacognition, “the thought processes of experts.” Linking the titles of two popular books on thinking, these cognitive mechanisms could also be called “Blink and Think” (Gladwell 2005 and Legault 2006). The clinical reasoning literature refers to them as non- analytical reasoning (pattern recognition) and analytical reasoning (information gathering and analysis). In the psychology-based Dual Process Model (DPM) of thinking, these cognitive capabilities are referred to as system 1 (intuition) and system 2 (metacognition) thinking (Croskerry 2000, 2002; Croskerry et€al. 2004, Campbell et al. 2007).
Knowing in Action Schon (1983, 1987) defined KiA as the way a skilful and experienced professional thinks on his feet and reacts to variations in professional practice, almost unconsciously. KiA is important in situations where time is of importance. It is an essential survival instinct of all animals that allow them to respond to dangerous or urgent situations. Such “gut feelings” (Stolper et€al. 2009) or intuitive reactions are called pattern recognition or Gestalt, where the sum of the whole is greater than the individual parts. A professional without instinct is like a rabbit paralysed by the headlights of a car. In Blink, Malcolm Gladwell (2005) said: “There are moments, particularly in times of stress, when haste does not make waste, when our snap judgments and first impressions can offer a much better means of making sense of the world”. Intuitive thinking (KiA) is fast, automatic and subconscious. We are hard-wired to react to our instincts and emotion. With intuitive thinking, our level of cognitive awareness may be low or non-existent and we expend little cognitive effort in reacting. Intuitive thinking is essential in emergency situations in medicine. However, because there is a high emotional or subjectivity component to intuitive thinking, it can frequently lead to cognitive
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errors or biases. It is possible to jump to the wrong conclusions, by making false assumptions or by not testing personal assumptions. We sometimes control gut reactions by telling ourselves to “Stop and think,” or “Sleep on it” before sending off that emotionally written letter of complaint. Thus, metacognitive (system 2) thinking can increase the reliability and reduce the error rate of intuitive thinking alone (Croskerry 2008).
Reflection in Action RiA explores the cognitive processes behind how expert doctors respond to “surprises” in practice, how they make decisions, and how they think during a patient encounter. RiA is related to critical thinking and how doctors make informed decisions through rationality linked to reflection. RIA includes not only new cognitive understandings on how doctors think, but also why well focused, dedicated and conscientious doctors can make serious, life-threatening errors (Croskerry 2000). In his book (Think: why crucial decisions can not be made at the blink of an eye), Michael Legault (2006) states: “The technique by which we make good decisions and produce good work is a nuanced and interwoven mental process involving bits of emotion, observation, intuition, and critical reasoning. The emotion and intuition are the easy, “automatic” parts, the observation and critical reasoning skills the more difficult, acquired parts”. Metacognition (system 2) is careful, deliberate and systematic conscious thought. Unlike intuition, it demands a high cognitive awareness and cognitive effort while emotions and subjectivity are pushed aside. Because of the significant cognitive effort and analytical reasoning associated with metacognition, its reliability is high and cognitive errors can usually be avoided. Medical expertise. Experts respond to “variations” in practice intuitively. But when “surprises” (a new experience) occurs, the experienced doctor performs rapid problem solving and decision-making to provide simultaneous diagnosis and treatment. Both intuition and metacognition are useful in the right place and the right time; indeed they complement each other. Taken together, intuition and metacognition promote greater efficiency in thinking, decision-making and action and help bring order to chaos and uncertainty (Quirk 2006). Whether to use intuition or metacognition in a given clinical situation depends on the complexity of the situation in relation to the individual’s capabilities, past experiences and self confidence. Repetitive operations of system 2 thinking can turn a formerly time consuming metacognitive capability into an automated (system 1) capability, just as one goes with practice from being a nervous metacognitive driver to an automatic intuitive driver. Making thinking processes automatic through experience allows the expert to avoid redundancy, free up cognitive space and to use cognitive time and resources for other activities. However, one only has to think of the automobile driver to recognize the danger of being “too automatic” while driving with distractions such as mobile phones. Expert clinical decision-making and the role of metacognition. Doctors start out a patient encounter with the indeterminate situation which, by a process of intuition, rational inquiry and reflection, is made more determinate but may never be brought to a complete or absolute closure. Thus, good thinking is necessary for good decision-making, to prevent error and to save lives. Dewey taught us how to think (Dewey 1910). His work and observations laid the foundations for explorations of the nature of experience and reflective practice. The cognitive revolution of the last 50 years has brought further understandings into how expert doctors deal with complexity and uncertainty, in routine and emergency care, how they practice clinical reasoning and how they learn from their experiences. Jean Piaget, perhaps the most notable developmental psychologist of the twentieth century, surmised that the highest order of intelligence include the ability to anticipate and reflect on one’s own behaviour, a concept now called “metacognition” (Piaget 1952). Metacognition is the ability to think about one’s thinking and the thinking of others. Piaget, along with
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Howard Gardner, a leader of the cognitive revolution (Gardner 1983) and Flavell (1987) recognized that metacognition was one of the thought processes of experts. Metacognition in RiA. Because of specialized knowledge, metacognition and the ability to reflect in action, experts are more than skilled technicians. Experts “do it” intelligently. They have well organized and well elaborated knowledge schemata that they bring to bear in a problem context, in addition to metacognition that allows them to monitor their thinking and actions. Medical experts find answers when they do not have them, and as knowledge changes they adapt (Quirk 2006). Experts may not know exactly what to do in uncertain, unstable and complex situations, but, knowingly or not, they are well equipped with RiA and therefore they know how to respond. They have the ability to reflect and to act simultaneously while carrying out their duties. They carefully and systematically monitor and regulate their knowledge domains of cognition, attitudes and procedural skills. Experts are metacognitive thinkers; they know how to cope with the knowledge dilemma and uncertainty. Experts or extended professionals are those who ‘have a high level of competence; have a high degree of skill in understanding and handling the people with whom they are working and derive high satisfaction from personal contact with others’ (Fish and Coles 2005, p 161). In addition, Croskerry, an emergency physician, recognizes the importance of the ergonomically optimized workplace, rest, self-regulation, time to think, an awareness of cognitive biases, and the ability to blend intuition and metacognition in urgent medical decision-making (Croskerry 2002).
The Metacognitive Tool-Kit Tools in the expert’s metacognitive tool-kit include specialized knowledge, emotional intelligence, the ability to reflect, to access multiple perspectives, to work across disciplines and the ability to learn from experience. Self regulation and self-awareness are also important metacognitive skills. Specialized knowledge. Metacognition must first involve a foundation of strategic factual knowledge (e.g. the common causes of limp in a child are different from that in an 80 year-old), appropriate discipline-based psychomotor skills, (surgical skills, resuscitation skills), good attitudes and communication skills (“The good doctor speaking well”). A strong functional framework that supports commitment to research and learning through reflection is essential to expert practice (Donovan et€al. 2007, pp. 10–24). In today’s complex health systems, no doctor is an island, and interdisciplinary approaches (Freeth et€al. 2005), including multidimensional perspectives, are crucial to patient care and to reducing medical errors. Emotional intelligence. Emotional intelligence (Goleman 1995) is also an important trait of the metacognitive expert. It is needed for effective communication, to promote wellness and to enlighten patients about their illness and treatment options, and how to deal with loss, grief and death. Experts are able to think about their own or other’s thoughts, feelings and values. They understand the nature of people as cognitive creatures. Although some individuals are innately more intuitive, more attuned to their own and others feelings and thoughts, all experts have to work on developing medical intuition, through practice and experience. Perspective taking. We construct our learning according to our perspectives of the world (Donovan et€al. 2007, pp. 10–24). Thus, patients and doctors have different learning constructs, different experiences and different learning styles. Patients come to their doctor with their own preconceptions about how their world works.The metacognitive doctor always looks for the patient’s perspective by intentionally asking: What are your greatest concerns or fears? What have you been told about your condition? What is your understanding of your
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condition? Who is there to help you? Is there anything else worrying you? (Quirk 2006, p. 122). As a result, the reflective doctor can anticipate his patient’s medical needs and advocate and negotiate on his behalf. Experiential learning. In addition to thinking one’s own and others’ thinking and perspective taking, metacognition includes the ability to learn from experience. Abraham Flexner, a champion of the educator John Dewey, agreed with Dewey that “the initiative lies with the learner” and that education involves more than an accumulation of facts and a method of inquiry, thinking and problem solving (Flexner 1910). Learning by reflecting on their experiences allows doctors to challenge their assumptions by asking questions, to recognize patterns and subtle cues in complex situations and to overcome personal biases such as stereotyping. A doctor needs to maintain lifelong, experiential self-learning in order to maintain and develop new skills. What is read, heard or seen (experience) is translated into what is subsequently done (experiential learning). Conscious reflection turns what is done into working knowledge. This knowledge is consolidated through practice (repetition) and reinforcement, by using the new learning in parallel examples (Cox 2000). For medical students and novice doctors, the transfer of knowledge learned in the classrooms into clinical practice leads to the wise physician or “praxis” and the consolidation of learning by experience (de Cossert & Fish 2007). Self-regulation. Other important metacognitive capabilities include self regulation and self-awareness (Quirk 2006, pp. 85–86). Self-regulation is the ability to control one’s thoughts and feelings in order to think well. Humans are more likely to make errors if they are distracted or poorly regulated. The self regulated doctor needs to control and interpret sensory input while remaining engaged in an interaction or being able to disengage from an activity. Stress, tiredness, interruptions, overwork, over-stimulation, all tests our abilities to self-regulate. Even as adults, we are not so far from the newborn baby, struggling to maintain an internal equilibrium by trying to modulate the sensory stimulation from the immediate environment. The more premature the baby, the less they can control the intensity of arousal experienced, the noise, the lights, the interruptions, the pain of needles, the lack of touch, the loneliness, the absence of parents and uterine physical limits, as they drown in the overwhelming space of an incubator (Als 1999; Als et€al. 2004)). Similar to these tiny human beings (Als et€al. 2004), excessive uncontrolled arousal and stress can have serious personal consequences for the overstretched doctor. Self awareness. Being self aware or “mindful,” a strategy which many doctors prescribe for their patients with depression (Segal et€al. 2002), may also be an important personal life-skill strategy for the metacognitive doctor (“Physician heal thyself”). Segal (2002) said that knowing minds exhibit compassion, empathy, mindfulness and insight. Professional competence is based in part on the clinician’s ability to engage in a mindful, professional practice (Epstein 2006, in Kenny and Shelton, pp. 115–144). Habits of mind, such as attentiveness, curiosity, and presence, are fundamental to safe, effective medical practice and physician well-being (Borrell-Carrio and Ebstein 2004). Strategies for promoting mindful practice in medicine include “priming” (setting the expectation of self-observation), creating physical and mental space for reflection, and practicing attentiveness, curiosity, and presence. “Unless you realize that silence has to be claimed, it will continue to elude you” (Taylor 2006a).
Clinical Reasoning Two modes of case processing have been shown to underlie the diagnostic judgements of doctors: analytical (pattern recognition) and non-analytical (information gathering and analysis) reasoning. An optimal form of clinical reasoning is suggested to combine both
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modes (Mamede et€al. 2007a, b). Conditions leading doctors to change from the common mode of non-analytical reasoning to reflective reasoning have not been completely identified. However, Mamede et€al. (2007b) have shown that doctors switch from automatic to reflective reasoning when challenged by ambiguous case histories. “Good” decisionmakers have a high tolerance for ambiguity, have a well-ordered sense of priorities, are good listeners, test their assumptions and avoid stereotyping. While a number of strategies have been implemented and tested to promote these skills, educators have not been able to consistently predict their development (Mamede & Schmidt 2004). However, concurrent attention to both the analytical and non-analytical reasoning in work-based contexts, seems to be required (Kuiper and Pesut (2004)). Although it might seem plausible that reflection should increase with age and experience, Mamede (2005) have observed that analytical reasoning declines in proportion to the increase in experience. On the surface, clinical reasoning entails: defining the problem, creating a mental representation of the problem, planning, doing, observing and evaluating. Expert doctors recognize the importance of being able to identify, analyse, and challenge assumptions in statements and arguments, and, to be able to detect logical fallacies in reasoning. In addition to metacognition, capabilities such as comprehension, language, and the ability to pay close attention while gathering and processing information are essential to medical problem solving. Students can be taught models of decision-making such as the Harvard PrOACT model (Hammond et€al. 2002): What is the Problems (Pr), explore Alternatives, examine the Consequences of each possibility and Take action. However, there is no evidence that stand-alone modules of critical literacy, including problem solving, are effective in developing clinical decision-making. Problem-solving strategies must be specific and contextualized for each problem (Mandin et€al. 2000).
Cognitive Biases and How Doctors Make Mistakes Errors occur in the clinical milieu because of inconstancy, uncertainty, variety of presentation of illness, complexity, staff exhaustion and staff inexperience. However, a common factor linking these circumstances could be disordered thinking. William James said: “We carve out order by leaving the disorderly parts out” and “We carve out everything…to suit our human purposes” (James 1907). While his observations are an accurate observation of a human thinking strategy, his aphorisms illustrates the potential cognitive bias of diagnosis fixation: i.e. casting aside or not dwelling on potentially vital information that does not fit a particular diagnosis. Cognitive biases lie in the subconscious and arise from underuse, over-use and mis-use of information processing behaviours or strategies that are needed to deal with complexity in our daily lives (Arsham 2009). A cognitive bias in medicine is therefore “an evolved mental behavior that can lead to a pattern of deviation in clinical judgment”. Some cognitive biases are adaptive because they lead to more effective actions or enable faster decisions. Others result from a lack or misapplication of a mechanism that is adaptive under different circumstances. Assumptions and cognitive bias. Wrong assumptions, especially unconscious ones, are a common source of cognitive bias. The effect of an assumption depends on its strength and its impact. The more an expected outcome is experienced, the stronger the assumption and the more it is treated as fact. The need to question an assumption particularly arises when its impact includes the possibility of a grave outcome, which is often the case in medicine. Expert doctors, like everybody else, regularly make unconscious assumptions to improve their efficiency. However, a key metacognitive strategy in the expert’s tool-kit is the ability to self-test these assumptions while in professional action. Experts use “assumption triggers” e.g. visualizations and assertion heuristics, to warn them about when to bring
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unconscious assumptions to the fore and test them (Whiteley 2008, p. 6). Most experienced practitioners mentally collect IGBO’s (‘I got burnt once’) in their minds as “trigger cases” (Quirk 2006, p. 98). During subsequent problem solving situations, the physician will activate the script by searching for matching features, then observe and reflect on the script in the context of the new patient before coming to a decision. Thus, self questioning and reflection are critical components of the metacognitive script. Assumptions and therefore cognitive biases can occur in both diagnostic and therapeutic arenas, in decision-making and also in professional behaviour. Perspective taking (avoiding wrong assumptions or stereotyping), enhanced observation and close listening to the patient are some ways of avoiding cognitive biases. Diagnosis fixation. “I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit the facts”. (Conan-Doyle 1966). Yet, doctors are often forced to act without complete data. They must know, however, what the brain is good at and what it is bad at. If they fail to look for more evidence or review the situation once more, they may jump to intuitive conclusions and make the cognitive bias of diagnosis fixation (“Ah, that’s it, for sure!”). Doctors can betray their fixation and illogical thinking without knowing it: ‘She doesn’t need ICU, because we don’t have a bed’. To avoid diagnosis fixation, doctors should always focus on the big picture and constantly perform R & R (reassess and re-evaluate) to monitor changes in the patient’s condition and to consider other possible diagnoses. A good doctor is not afraid to call for cognitive help (a second opinion). This should not just be an affirmation of his brilliant, but possibly wrong, diagnosis. Sometimes the cognitive error is a fixation on a task. In the atmosphere of “at-stakeness” that accompanies medical uncertainty and complexity, some people are unable to give up attempting a task or a particular diagnosis despite mounting evidence to the contrary and possible increasing risk of patient harm. Commission bias. Self-belief and confidence are essential traits of a professional’s identity. However, ego can lead to the cognitive bias of commission: to continue do something even when you know it is wrong. Many medical students have heard this simple maxim: “If it’s working, keep doing it: if it’s not working, stop doing it (Silverman 1999). Dr Knowsbest ignores other’s advice. He dismisses or prevents team members from thinking, either by not seeking or ignoring their opinions or perspectives. There is nothing to stop his diagnostic momentum. Dr Knowsbest can only see the light at the end of his tunnel. He just can’t say: “Is it possible I might just be wrong”. Donald Berwick, a paediatrician and founder of the Institute of Medicine sees a similarity in fire-fighters and doctors’ behaviours in crisis situations. He asked: Why do so many forest fire-fighters die with their tools beside them, when studies show that many could have survived if they had dropped their tools and ran 6–9 more inches per second? (Berwick 2004). For doctors and fire-fighters alike, to drop one’s tools is a loss of identity, an admission of failure (Bristol Royal Infirmary Inquiry 2001). Commission errors (“Just do it”), such as removing the wrong kidney or limb, usually result from the accumulation of a series of minor errors. A reflective pause to complete a brief surgical safety checklist, before the induction of anaesthesia (“sign in”), before the incision of the skin (“time out”) and before the patient leaves the operating room (“sign out”), has led to a one-third reduction in surgical mortality and morbidity in a recent global study (Haynes et€al. 2009). Good thinking takes time: haste and cutting corners are the quickest route to cognitive errors. However, the admonition “Don’t just do something, stand there!” is easier said that done in today’s action orientated medicine Protection against cognitive bias. The professional, who is aware of how human brains works, can draw on certain thinking strategies, such as heuristics, to prevent cognitive biases. Heuristics are simple, informal strategies for solving problems, using accessible and applicable information (Wikepedia 2009b). They include rules of thumb, educated
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guesses, intuitive judgments or simply common sense. Although heuristics may lead to a successful outcome, occasionally they can represent a cognitive bias and result in error. Search satisfaction is a cognitive bias due to the availability heuristic: estimating what is more likely by what is more available in memory. This can result in a bias towards vivid, unusual, recent or emotionally charged examples. Thus, other possible diagnoses or therapies are prematurely closed by search satisfaction. Revisiting and reviewing the patient’s history is a good way to prevent search satisfaction or diagnosis fixation. “Tell me the story again as if I have never heard it.” A doctor who asks: What else could it be? is safeguarding against search satisfaction and premature closure (Groopman 2007). Case report. This scenario begins with the birth of a premature infant and, through the eyes of a medical practitioner, explores the roles of RbA, KiA and RiA in medical practice. The role of medical simulation and crisis resource management in training health professionals in intuition, rapid metacognition, decision-making, leadership and teamwork are demonstrated. The scenario continues with RiA during a medical consultation and ends with reference to RoA through practical reflection and appraisal of clinical performance. A baby boy was born prematurely at 24 weeks gestation in the delivery room of a major maternity hospital. The baby’s mum had arrived into the hospital by ambulance just minutes beforehand. The midwife present at the delivery called for help. She brought the baby to a warmer, zipped him into a plastic bag with his head showing, suctioned his mouth and placed a bonnet on his head. She noted that the baby was breathing with short little gasps. She placed the correct sized mask on the baby’s face and used a bag-mask device to squeeze oxygen into the baby’s lungs. But the baby’s chest did not move. Instinctively she repositions the baby’s head, squeezes the bag-mask device again. The baby’s chest starts to move as oxygen enters his lungs and his colour starts to improve. The midwife has been trained in the resuscitation of the newborn infant. She knew what to do in this unexpected crisis. She had checked the baby-warmer and the resuscitation equipment that morning (RbA). She called for help immediately, and instinctively started resuscitating the baby as she had been trained by helping the baby’s breathing with the bag and mask device (KiA). When the baby’s chest did not move as she squeezed the bag-mask device, the nurse moved from intuition to rapid metacognition and solved the problem. The pediatric team arrived and continued to stabilize the baby in preparation for transfer to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). The midwife appreciated the way the pediatrician encouraged her to bring the tiny baby over to the mum to allow her to touch and kiss him and to ask if she had a name for the baby. She called him Sam. The doctor asked if the Dad would like to help push the baby warmer to the NICU. He looked inquiringly at his partner, not wanting to leave her side, but she nodded. While responding intuitively to the ongoing care of this tiny baby, the pediatrician is also thinking about the tremendous psychosocial impact that their sick premature baby will have on the parents. Like the mythological Cassandra, who was able to see into the future, the paediatrician can see what the parents cannot yet see. Sam has a fifty-fifty chance of survival and a 20% chance of a significant disability if he survives (Bodeau-Livinec et€al. 2008). It will be a tough road ahead to life or death for this little baby. Because of this unexpected delivery, there has been no chance to talk to the parents in advance. Those discussions would happen later. He promised the parents he would keep them informed of Sam’s progress over the next, critical hours. Earlier in his training this paediatrician would have rushed the baby to the NICU without much consideration of the parents’ perspectives. The baby was his patient. However, his experience over the years has taught him the importance of early parental contact, guidance and involvement in the care of the baby from the outset. Sam belonged to his parents, not to the team caring for him. This doctor demonstrated RiA, essentially, good emotional intelligence and communication skills. He is able to think about his own or another’s thoughts, feeling and values. He has developed practical wisdom (phronesis) through his
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clinical experiences and through role-modelling of his former mentors: at least those mentors who represented the kind of doctor he wished to become. As he monitors the baby carefully on the short journey to the NICU, the paediatrician is reminded of the origins and development of reflection in humans. Babies are born to think. In effect, they are born reflective practitioners. According to Gopnik et€al., babies resemble experimental scientists in the way they test their world around them and learn constantly from their experiences (Gopnik et€al. 1999). Piaget showed that babies’ views of the world were as complex and as highly structured, although very different from the adult view. Perhaps novice doctors, like children, are limited by the schemata they had evolved. According to Piaget, children who had not attained certain developmental stages, such as formal operations, would find certain concepts inaccessible (Piaget 1952). The paediatrician reflected that the “neo-Piagetian” theories of Robbie Case (1985) and (1992), Kurt Fischer (1980) have shown that, under supportive conditions, children can cross thresholds of understanding earlier than was initially considered. Could this concept also be true for doctors in training, as they progress from novice to praxis, with unsteady steps and sudden bursts of understanding? Upon arrival in the NICU, the care of the baby progressed rapidly and quietly. Each member of the team knew their role. They had practiced this scenario of admitting an extremely low birth weight infant together at a recent simulation course. The baby was weighed (650€g), attached to monitors, and his temperature was measured. The staff noted with satisfaction that those involved in the immediate resuscitation had done well since a low temperature upon arrival in the NICU is associated with a poorer outcome for the baby. Sam was given a medicine called surfactant through a tube that had been placed through his mouth into his lungs. This would help expansion of his premature lungs and oxygenate him better. A few minutes later, however, his condition deteriorated. The doctor and nurses made a quick assessment looking for the cause. They checked the ventilator, shone a bright light on either side of Sam’s chest to see if air had burst from his lungs into the chest cavity (a pneumothorax) and checked the position of the tube going to his lungs. They passed a suctioning catheter into the tube in his lungs and found the answer. This tube had been partly blocked by some of the surfactant medicine. All of this action had been performed rapidly, smoothly, but quietly, according to the instructions of the paediatrician as team leader. By rapidly determining the cause of the baby’s deterioration, in a calm, methodical approach, with accurate assessment, decisionmaking and problem solving abilities, the baby was saved. Although outwardly calm, the paediatrician was terrified inside, but recalls his mentor saying: “Remember that your leadership in a crisis is contagious”. He made one error however. When requesting for the baby’s blood sugar, he did not hand the sample to a specific person saying: “Please do a blood glucose on this sample” and he did not complete the communication loop: “Tell me when it’s ready.” Each carer, busy in their own tasks of stabilizing this critically ill baby, assumed it was another team member’s responsibility to check the blood sugar. It took 30€min to realize the error that the sample had not been processed. Fortunately, the subsequent blood glucose was within normal limits and no harm had been done to the baby. (A low blood glucose starves the brain of energy and could cause seizures and possible brain injury) The doctor was irritated with himself for this human error. However, he resisted the temptation to blame and recalled that Brookfield referred to mistakes as our “instructional friends” (Brookfield 1995). He would cite his error as a learning point at the next resuscitation meeting and teach through a new mnemonic he had learnt: ABCDEFG as “Airway, Breathing, Circulation, Don’t Ever Forget the Glucose” in sick babies. “Would you fly with an airline that didn’t use simulation to train their pilots? Industries, such as the airline and nuclear power have learned that accidents may represent symptoms of an inadvertent, gradual accumulation of complexity in operations. Like trainee airline pilots, health professional students, should begin their training in simulation
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scenarios, prior to contact with the complexity of “real” patients. Medical simulation, where scenarios are designed as close as possible to the real thing, is a golden opportunity for technical skills training and for teaching the intuitive responses needed in emergencies (Flin et€al. 2008). Most medical schools now have clinical teaching laboratories with simulation and video-taping facilities for feedback. In addition to emergency training, simulation is ideal for teaching and testing communication and consulting skills (Smith et€ al. 2007). Training occurs in a mistake-forgiving, “safe but insecure” environment (Neighbour 2006b) with immediate feedback by teacher, peers or the patient simulator. Using professional role players as patients in a simulation environment helps health professionals to anticipate and recognize when a crisis is happening or about to happen, trains them to focus on the essentials (“ABC”) and to avoid fixation errors by continuous re-assessment and re-evaluation (Halamek 2001). Scenario teaching can also sharpen fast metacognition skills, responses to stress and uncertainty and educate health care teams against cognitive biases and medical errors (Bond et€al. 2006). Team training can help teach knowledge, skills and attitudes in crisis resource management (CRM) scenario testing. CRM was developed to improve management and outcome of complex and dynamic situations involving high cognitive demands, teamwork and coordination. Unlike advanced resuscitation courses which are about developing psychomotor skills, crisis resource management is about human factor engineering. Using CRM in a simulation environment helps the health care team to anticipate and recognize when a crisis is happening or about to happen, to discover their leadership styles and how to enhance their communication skills during a crisis. Improving patient safety is the ultimate goal. Without such training, errors will continue to be made and patient outcomes remain suboptimal. When an adverse event occurs, doctors need to inform the patient or family. Later the team members should undertake a root cause analysis of the event (a form of reflection on action for quality improvement), to develop strategies to prevent future occurrences. Unfortunately, individual and systematic (comiogenic) flaws in clinical performance are a regrettable, but avoidable, aspect of every doctor’s career in today’s complex and invasive medicine (Ali and Ryan 2005; Ryan et€al. 2006; Low and Ryan 2007). The paediatrician has a follow-up clinic that afternoon where he sees, among others, the “graduates” of the NICU, the babies who made it home. There is a high risk of disability such as cerebral palsy among premature babies (10–20%) compared to 0.3% in babies born at term (Bodeau-Livinec et€al. 2008). This clinic is important for the paediatrician to see which babies (and which families) are doing well and how parents are coping if their baby has a disability. He will also be teaching medical students during this session. One of his aims will be to show them how a consultation works and how a doctor reflects in action during a consultation. How doctors think during a medical consultation. There is increasing evidence linking elements of the consultation to complaints, litigation and even to health outcomes (Borrill et€al. 2002). The medical consultation is a rite in four parts (HEAD). These include history taking (requiring core knowledge, intuition and metacognition), examination (requiring examination skills), assessment (interpretation of investigations and clinical reasoning) and diagnosis (decision-making to construct a tentative diagnosis) (Theodosakis and Feinberg 2000). During the consultation, the doctor must have the emotional intelligence to establish a rapport with the patient and communicate the treatment plan (Neighbour 2006b). While reflecting in action during the consultation, the doctor can self-evaluate whether Roger Neighbour’s cognitive checkpoints have been attained (Neighbour 2006b, pp. 14–17). “Connecting” is the systematic establishment of rapport with the patient and achieving empathy. “Summarizing” is the point when the doctor has demonstrated to the patient that he has understood the reason for the patient-visit. “Handover” is the moment the patient is back in charge of his or her subsequent behaviour. (Has the patient accepted the agreed management plan?). In “safety-netting” the doctor considers whether he has
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considered all possible outcomes and made contingency plans for the patient? Finally, consistency and self-regulation are important to ensure that each successive patient is seen “with a caring and compassionate state of mind uncontaminated with our personal preoccupations” (Neighbour 2006b). The metacognitive doctor remains open-minded, non-judgemental, curious and reflective during the consultation. As well as reflecting on the patient’s emotional state and reason for attending, he is listening and observing: What takes my attention? Where would I like to get to in this consultation? Is this consultation working and how can I tell? What shall I do next? In the opening moments of a consultation, the reflective doctor is paying full attention to what the patient is saying without interrupting (Neighbour 2006b). In contrast, Dr Interruption has already made up his mind about his patient’s problem and how it should be managed. He asks some framing questions that fits with his interpretation, misses the momentary pause or a change in the voice that informs the reflective practitioner that the patient is speaking about something risky or sensitive (Neighbour 2006b). Although well intentioned, Dr Interruption has let his intuition over-ride his curiosity. The patient may be persistent enough to get Dr Interruption back on track or else quits feeling frustrated and undervalued. Patient–physician partnership. Understanding how doctors think can be invaluable to patients hoping to improve their own health outcomes (Groopman 2007; Montgomery, 2006). Groopman (2007), a renowned oncologist, advises patients to monitor their doctor’s thinking for potential cognitive biases. They should encourage their doctor to think aloud by asking questions such as: “Is there anything that doesn’t fit?” This may help their doctor to think outside the box. The question “Is it possible that I could have more than one problem?” can help doctors to think of other possibilities and avoid search satisfaction. Montgomery (2006) describes the complicated tapestry of the clinical decision-making process as an art and not an empirical practice as many doctors claim. According to Groopman (2007) and Montgomery (2006) empowering patients and doctors to become reflective partners may be the key to rebuilding the therapeutic relationship and reduce diagnostic and therapeutic medical errors. Doctors are not omnipotent yet they carry the huge burden of omnipotence. When the true limits of medicine are realized and accepted, there is a possibility of more preparedness, clearer decision-making, and peace of mind.
Reflection on Action Sam died in his mother’s arms at three days of age. His mum, supported by his Dad, held him as his breathing tube was removed and the ventilator was stopped. An ultrasound examination earlier that morning had shown significant bleeding from the fluid-filled cavities in the brain (ventricles) into the brain tissue of both hemispheres. The chances of Sam surviving without a severe disability were low. Following discussions with the other neonatologists, the nursing team and Sam’s parents, a decision was made to discontinue therapy. The unexamined life is hardly worth living (Socrates). Reflection on action implies a delay between the original action and the reflection. It operates through a careful reexamination of experience, beliefs and knowledge, where details are recalled and analysed to gain fresh insights and take action if necessary. It can be difficult to allocate time for RoA, but sometimes the opportunity to reflect can arise in a moment of silence, “the generative home of possibilities” (Taylor 2000a). As he sat by Sam’s parents, the paediatrician reflected. Did they do the right thing in resuscitating Sam at birth? Could the tube blockage that occurred soon after birth have contributed to the bleed into his brain? Could the tube blockage have been predicted or prevented? Did the team have enough information about Sam’s potential outcome to discontinue
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support at this time? Was redirecting care the morally right thing to do? He remembered a quotation from a pediatric journal: “We must recognize that even when clinicians make decisions based on the best evidence available, their own ethical, moral and religious values influence their medical decision-making” (Cook et€al. in Silverman 1999, p. 230). Had he and his colleagues been unduly pessimistic or biased about Sam’s future? The pediatrician was aware that there were no right answers to these dilemmas at the beginning of life, just difficult choices that summon conflicting moral values. “It was always thus, impelled by a state of mind which is destined not to last, that we make our irrevocable decisions” (Marcel Proust, quoted in Silverman 1999). Sometime health care professionals try to suppress or avoid constructive reflection on difficult and disturbing situations, in the belief that such introspection is not of benefit to themselves or their patients. However, some hospitals employ psychologists to hold regular debriefing meetings to encourage intensive care staff in particular, to reflect on recent stressful clinical events. Multidisciplinary staff participation is encouraged but no staffmember is obliged to attend. The paediatrician decided to write an experiential narrative (Quirk 2006, p. 94–95) of his involvement in Sam’s life, constructing, deconstructing, confronting and reconstructing his thoughts Mamede and her colleagues (2005) have shown that reflective physicians demonstrate five sets of behaviours including: deliberate induction; deliberate deduction; testing and synthesizing; openness for reflection, and meta-reasoning. Later, the pediatrician would discuss his observations with a critical friend (Moon 2006, p. 147). As yet, there was no support group for reflective practitioners in the hospital. In addition to decision-making, issues in a doctor’s daily life that warrant RoA include difficult ethical problems, how the doctor communicates, how he deals with complaints, the nature and the experience of illness and the dynamics and significance of interpersonal relationships. Examining these difficult emotional and moral problems can be defined as “a process of looking back on thoughts and memories, in cognitive acts such as thinking, contemplation, meditation, and any other form of attentive consideration, in order to make sense of them and to make contextually appropriate changes if required” (Taylor 2006a– c). Reflection on action teaches us to demonstrate care and caution with patients’ feelings. “Patients and their loved ones swim together with physicians in a sea of feelings. Each needs to keep an eye on a neutral shore where flags are planted to warn of perilous emotional currents” (Groopman 2007). Although we might think of humans as thinking beings who feel, in fact, we are feeling beings who think (Taylor 2006). Reflection on action is largely about exploring the latter, our emotional intelligence. As such, it is the richest and also, emotionally and socially the riskiest form of reflection. Reflection on action is a way of life, not just a technique. It can become the basis for our personal history and the route for making sense out of life experiences (Taylor 2006b). It can help making things better for ourselves, our professions and our families. Reflection may protect doctors from disillusionment or burnout if they begin to prioritize and attend to the most fundamental and important elements of their professional practice. RoA and professional knowledge. There are three levels of professional knowledge: the explicit, the implicit and the tacit. The explicit or surface knowledge is that which is codified in the curriculum. Implicit knowledge is embedded within the services, structures and practice of the profession (de crosser & Fish 2007). Schön (1983) believed that much of the work of professionals is tacit, relating to the deeper and more complex aspects of practice, some of which they are not consciously aware. These include issues of perceptions, values, assumptions, power and taboos that underlie medical practice (Schön 1983). By reflecting on the explicit, implicit and tacit values/motives of the profession, the medical philosopher explores the relationship between doctors and society at policy, health systems and population levels. Thus, while RoA is important in the specific to the individual, it is also important in the general to the health system.
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RoA and physician appraisal. Appraisal of a doctor’s performance is important to protect the public from dangerous or unsafe practitioners. Appraisal, including benchmarking of dangerous drug use and mortality, might have identified the general practitioner, Harold Shipman, before he killed, at least, 246 of his patients by morphine injections (Kaplan 2009). It is not surprising that medical managers have become obsessed with measuring. But like educators they often measure what is possible, not always what is important or relevant.2 There is a danger, also, that repeated, bureaucratic tick-box measurements can kill the process of learning, “in the way that regularly pulling up a plant to examine its roots will ultimately lead to plant demise” (Fish 1998). An additional problem of tick-box evaluations is that they can make all learners look alike. Della Fish has put forward aesthetic inquiry as a way to combine accountability, research and professional development. Aesthetic inquiry “firmly locates accountability as requiring a form of research into one’s own practice rather than a form of record- keeping about one’s practice” (Fish 1998, p. 162). According to Fish (1998) the artistry of lived and felt experiences can be enhanced by being captured in artistic language and writing. The final portrait explores the essence of that particular practice in relationship to the practice of the profession (Fish 1998). The hypothesis of Fish and Coles (2005) is that only the practitioner can produce real understanding and change in practice and that appraisal through education is potentially more powerful than through technical evaluation. Aesthetic inquiry is a way for doctors to interrogate, understand and be alert to their practices through education, research and portfolio development (Fish 1998). Doctors undertake self-directed learning that is based on the work of practice and use reflection as a means of learning and creating meaning from a range of perspectives. Aesthetic inquiry is a form of action research, “where the researcher working, alone or collaboratively, works through cycles of evolution and development to effect positive change in their relationships or practice” (Wikepedia 2009a). The practice is explored by viewing it as an art portfolio where curricula, curriculum materials and clinical encounters are analysed in terms of professional artistry in language appropriate to works of art (Fish 1998).
Section€2: Reflective Inquiry and the Educational Continuum If we are to produce reflective medical practitioners, we have to examine medical education through the student’s eyes, the characteristics of the reflective teacher, the curriculum and the process of student selection for medical school. If we are to justify a paradigm change in medical education to include an RI framework, we need to provide evidence of the benefits of RI in educational and patient care outcomes (Fig.€6.2).
The Reflective Learner RI and the medical learning environment. The behaviourist definition of learning is “a relatively permanent change in behavior that comes through an experience.” However, Dewey said that “the belief that all genuine education comes about through experience
╛The social services organization in Haringey, UK, received the maximum 3 star rating for the quality of their services in 2008. Yet 3 months later, a toddler in their care, Baby P, was found dead, from unspeakable, sustained physical abuse, having been seen by 60 health care workers (including doctors) who failed to identify his plight. The subsequent investigation showed the major flaws throughout the organization which had not been identified by the tick-box€3 star rating.
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Reflective Inquiry in the Educational Continuum
A. The RI learner • learning context
• fostering RI • learner uncertainty • learner development
B. The RI Teacher • characteristics
• teaching models • RI questions • creating change • narrative & Art
C. The RI Curriculum
• student experience • personal curriculum • interdisciplinarity • student selection • assessment
D. Research in RI • cognitive science
• education outcomes • health outcomes
Fig.€6.2╅ The pathway of reflective inquiry in the educational continuum as outlined in this chapter
does not mean that all experiences are genuinely or equally educative” (Dewey 1938). The planned experience for KiA, which is essentially a technical capability, is different from those where the aim is to teach the metacognition of clinical reasoning (analytical reasoning, problem solving, decision-making) and RoA (What happened? So what? Now what?). We simply have to look at the medical learning and work situations of students and doctors (lectures, small groups, clinical skills centre, hospital-based, bedside teaching, ambulatory care teaching and community, distance learning and self/peer-assisted learning) to recognize the importance of context not only on the student problems solving skills, but also on addressing the patient’s predicament. The learning environment of medical education also poses its own challenges. Training occurs in competitive learning environments and is offered by time-scarce clinical mentors (Kenny and Shelton 2006). In addition, there is always the need to balance the tensions between the service imperative and the learning needs of trainee doctors in the clinical environment. Fostering the reflective learner. In order to teach reflective learning and foster reflective skills the principles of student centered learning must first be present. Learners learn and remember more when they are actively engaged in a safe, authentic and challenging learning environment. Teachers should “diagnose the learners” (What do you want to learn today?) making the students and their previous learning experiences central to the learning experience. Students should be encouraged to link (make connections) as well as to think. If students cannot link what they are hearing, they are forced to memorize it by rote. The expert teacher helps the student weave that web of connections and meanings (Cox 2000). The learning context for reflective inquiry is most important. It should be an authentic but not overwhelming environment. Medical students, like all learners, remember and learn better if taught in the environment in which they will be practicing. While students need a challenging and interactive learning environment where they are encouraged to ask questions and receive immediate feedback, the learning environment must also be monitored to accommodate their levels of experience and stress. Non-reflective students think they have to come up with the right answer. However, we should tell our students not to guess if they are uncertain. ‘Tell us what you are thinking and we will give you feedback’ is the way to help them recognizes, explore and construct their own learning. RI and learner uncertainty. The students’ chief concern when faced with a problem is the sense of uncertainty. Yet, uncertainty is the first step in reflective inquiry and a guiding
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principal in the pursuit of knowledge. Once the nature of uncertainly is accepted, it is up to the teacher to help facilitate resolution by the students. The best pathway for developing the reflective skills is to frame a teacher-based problem, since a good solution comes from a good question. The teacher’s agenda is to read the student’s mind to discover gently but systematically what leads the learner’s attention to move in the directions that it does (Neighbour 2006a). Be kind to your students. Carl W. Buechner said: “They may forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel” (Gale Reference Team 2007). Students will have a greater willingness to approach with their uncertainties if they perceive that the teacher has a reasonable tolerance for error. Reflective learners must learn to think metacognitively and to act intuitively with confidence. They should be experts in experiential learning. Kolb’s experiential learning cycle involves having an experience, such as a patient encounter, reflecting on that experience (reflective observation), developing a concept as to what occurred and generalizing from that experience (abstract conceptualization) and finally applying the concepts and generalizations to new situations (active experimentation). The transfer and use of knowledge in another context, is an indication that learning occurred. Experiential learning through reflection should transform the student from a passive to active lifelong learner. RI and learner development. There is an affective and a developmental component to RI, among learners, that cannot be ignored. Do we, as educators, give students time for their emotional and psychological maturation, time to develop their reflective skills? Students will be at different levels of experiential, cognitive and moral development. Some are ready to cross over a threshold concept into a new area of understanding through reflection. (A “threshold concept” is a portal, opening up a new and previously inaccessible way of understanding: Meyer and Land 2003). Other students, for the moment, find the concept of reflection “troublesome” and for the moment, “just don’t get it.” Despite outward appearances of confidence, many medical students are fragile learners (Darnton 2007). In making the conceptual changes necessary to develop reflective judgement, students commonly go through considerable discomforts until appropriate conceptions of knowledge are attained. In a recent study (Kelly 2008), young medical students reported substantial distress when interacting with young patients of their own age who had serious, life-threatening illnesses. These students need support from teachers and student peer groups when they are undergoing conceptual change or still in a quest for their reflective capabilities to develop.
The Reflective Teacher Characteristics of the reflective teacher. How can teachers partner with their learners to foster multi-dimensional inquiry at deeper levels of understanding? Teachers of RI need to be well trained themselves. Indeed, they need to possess the very reflective skills they are teaching. Essentially all approaches to teaching RI should be intentional. In choosing instructional strategies to enhance RI, teachers should be aware that teaching and learning RI are not intuitive. It can be a difficult and elusive concept for both the student and teacher to grasp. But it can also be liberating, exhilarating and sometimes scary. Some teachers fear a loss of control in problem-based sessions. However, they have nothing to fear if they plan for the experience. In carefully selected ambulatory care settings, they can facilitate reflective observation, encourage conceptual thinking, and provide feedback and testing of insights drawn from the experience. Learning occurs only when there is early, constructive feedback. Educators themselves must also be reflective, self-aware and self-caring. They should be prepared to design their own developmental activities and needs and seek evaluation and feedback from students (Ullian and Stritter 1997). Clinicians who teach are taxed from all sides in contemporary medical systems. “Teaching on the go,” from ward rounds, oper-
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ating theatre, out-patients to the corridor, dining room and the car park, is a signature pedagogy of medical education. However, clinicians must be careful not to undervalue the time needed to address complex ethical issues such as informed consent or end of life options. Rushed conversations may give students the implicit impression that such tasks essential to good doctoring, are less important than technical skills and knowledge (Kenny and Shelton 2006). RI teaching models. There are a number of models to help advance reflective inquiry in learners. A simple working model is to ask: “What happened? So what? Now what?” (Mackey and Walker 2008). The 5 As of Gibbs reflexive cycle include account: (what are the facts?); assessment (what were you and the other person thinking and feeling?); analysis (What sense can I make out of this? What was good and bad about the situation? What are my assumptions?); alternatives (What could I have done instead?) and action plan (If it arose again what would you do?). Korthagen and colleagues (2008) designed the “ALACT” (Action, Looking back, Awareness, Creating, Trial) model to describe “the spiralling process that effective learners go through when faced with a situation for which no routine solution is available”. As they progress, students oscillate between their practical experiences, reflection and theory and, crucially, are stimulated to take increasing ownership of their reflective practice through mentorship and a strategy of self-questioning. To reflect on something is to bring it into ownership, which may be granted when students are able to carry the reflective process from inception to conclusion (Moon 2006). Quirk (2006, p. 113) refers to this process as GNOME (goals, needs, organize, monitor, and evaluate). Students begin to define and prioritize their own learning goals and assess their needs in relationship to those goals. They will organize and reorganize their experiences to meet their unique needs. They will monitor their thinking processes and interactions with others, and document an evaluation of their progress. The capability to reflect and monitor behaviour can be evaluated through formal mechanisms such as experiential narratives (Quirk 2006). RI and questioning. The statement, “I do not know,” is not the death knell of the thinking; rather it’s birth cry. (Kohl 1984). Student thinking and beliefs can be explored by simple questioning, via heuristics or complex case studies (de Cossart and Fish 2005, 2007). The reflective teacher asks questions rather than giving answers, particularly questions that stimulate concreteness (what did you do? what did you want to find out?). Questions that stimulate critical thought are most helpful (what are your strengths? what needs to be improved?). In addition, teachers need to train students to ask good questions. Roger Neighbour’s neo-Socratic questioning style includes asking questions that are “deliberately set to unsettle but not devastate the student.” According to Neighbour, cognitive dissonance must be generated and intensified while at the same time being kept within tolerable limits (Neighbour 2006b, p. 142). He also encourages awareness-raising questions (ARQs). “What, Where, When and How” questions promote student awareness. “Why” questions do not because they tend to destroy present-centered awareness. The teacher’s task is to “keep the ARQs coming as long as the pupil’s absorption in the phenomenon can be genuinely sustained looking for minimal cues to note when the students curiosity has become redirected” (Neighbour 2006b). The critically literate teacher will also ask “naïve” questions, questions that disrupt the commonplace and taking a critical stance on what’s “taken for granted.” Why should I accept anyone else’s cognition? They will encourage interrogation of multiple viewpoints. They will also address socio–political issues, such as justice and the contributions and the power of the medical profession. Medical students need to understand the history and philosophy of medicine: Who are we as doctors? How did we arrive in this situation? Why do we practice in a particular way? Which disciplines are not included? Whose voices are heard and whose not? What differences exist? Whom do we serve? Who is not served? What does it feel like to be sick? What does it feel like to be a tired burnt-out doctor? Who
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decided physicians should perform some tasks and not others? Who benefits from the current arrangements? What is the relationship between the level of education and power, between the level of education and remuneration? What implications do these relationships have for health? (Taylor 2006a; Montgomery 2006; Wear and Castellari 2000). “If you can’t accept that the medical culture has its own set of interests, emotion and biases, how can you expect to deal successfully with someone else’s culture” (Fadiman 1997). Creating change. Teachers want students to change, but can be unwilling to change themselves. Howard Gardner’s three M’s, (Mission, Models, Mirror) may be a good starting place, when contemplating change in how reflective inquiry is taught (Gardner 2004). The question for educators is why and how they can facilitate the development of the desired attributes of reflective inquiry. Teachers need to project their educational mission to their students. What kind of students do they value: the obedient, compliant student or the questioning student who is able to think for himself and sees the truth in more nuanced terms than just right or wrong? They need to give explicit attention to reflection: it is not intuitive for teacher or student. Emulation is king: therefore educators need to serve as good role models and remember that they are “teachers always”. Role models are the key to learning the real values of medicine because “the values and behaviours that individuals and physicians demonstrate in their daily interactions with patients and their families and with physicians and other professional colleagues become the foundation on which moral professionalism rests” (Swick 2000). Two of the most significant aspects of learning accomplished through role modelling are critical thinking and professional role behavior in interaction with patients, interdisciplinary colleagues, and others. Gardner’s third M is “mirror”: Are we, as educators looking back, proud of what and where we bring our learners? A teacher’s role in RI is to assist students’ understanding and conceptual change, to help them move from positions in which knowledge is seen as right or wrong towards positions requiring interpretation and the evaluation of evidence (Kember 2001). Reflection through narrative based medicine. Narrative base medicine (NBM) is a patient-centered approach to medicine that can give the student and physicians access to the lived experience of their patients. Through reflective dialogue, patients feel known and valued by their doctors, and in turn, physicians can better assess the effectiveness of their interventions. Since Hippocratic times, doctors have used narratives, or extended history taking, to define how, why, and in what way the patient is ill (Ryan and McKay 1999). However, in the eighteenth century, these patient narratives were displaced by the scientific classification of diseases (diagnoses). The centrality of the patient was also displaced. William Osler, the great Canadian diagnostician and educator, tried to refocus physician awareness on the patient by saying: “Ask not what disease the person has but what person the disease has”. Change your thoughts and you change your world (Norman Vincent Peale). Patient’s thoughts, stories or narratives can be generators of personal reflection and help students to develop their listening skills, to seek patient perspectives and to help them make sense of their illness (Greenhalgh and Hurwitz 1999). For many patients it is the telling of their stories that helps to make them well (Elwyn and Gwyn 1999). The basic elements of a narrative include the characters and settings (who, what and where), the plot (sequence of events); and the perspective of the person telling the story. The concept underlying NBM is the one we construct our view of reality from by stories (Greenhalgh and Hurwitz 1999). The purpose of NBM is to collaborate with the patient to construct a story about their medical concerns, following which the story is reflected back to the patient to correct misinterpretations and facilitate alternative stories that make sense from the patient’s point of view. Narratives of illness provide a framework for approaching a patient’s problems holistically, and may uncover diagnostic and therapeutic options. Walter Benjamin said: “If the art of storytelling has become rare, the dissemination of information has had a
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decisive share in this state of affairs.” Doctors, once considered to be great listeners and tellers of stories, and now drowning in knowledge overload, need to reclaim that art. Reflection and the role of the Humanities and Art: Literature and Art are teaching strategies that can be powerful generators or enablers of reflection. To “think and link” better, students must first be helped to see better. Teaching reflective inquiry means new ways of seeing and new visions, which compel and transform the beholder. In A Scandal in Bohemia, Dr Watson says to Sherlock Holmes: “When I hear you give your reasons, the thing always appears to me to be ridiculously simple that I could easily do it myself….And yet I believe that my eyes are as good as yours”. “Quite so”, he answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing himself down into an armchair, “you see, but you do not observe. The distinction is clear.” There is an ongoing debate about the usefulness of literature and the fine arts in medical education. The growth of the subdiscipline of medical humanities reflects a conviction that study of the arts can be beneficial in the practice of medicine (Evans 2001). However, according to Fish (1998): “Universities are committed to a view of knowledge that fosters selective inattention to practical competence and professional artistry.” The words “art” or “intuition” seem to terminate a discussion rather than to open up inquiry.” Weatherall (1994) went as far as to say that medical education which did not embrace the humanities “tended to brutalize and dehumanize.” Art can also be a source of innovative pedagogical strategies for the reflective teacher. In the following example, the author used an Art appreciation program to stimulate inquiry and reflection among medical students on their first visit to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). Project MUSE (Museums Uniting with Schools in Education) was a collaboration of researchers, classroom teachers, museum educators, and school principals to foster reflection on works of art in schoolchildren (Davis 1996). Five possible entry points (EP) were developed for exploration and appreciation of a work of art. The intention of the EPs was to accommodate individual learning styles, in that learners could approach Art through one or all of the following five EPs in any order of preference: Aesthetic EP (through the colours of the artwork), Narratives EP (through the stories within and outside the artwork), Logical/ Quantitative EP (through lines, shapes and size of the artwork), Foundational EP (Is this Art?) and Experiential EP (Could this artwork be represented or reproduced in another art form?). An example of teaching through MUSE. (The tutor’s questions and student feedback are in italics). Three medical students observe a premature baby, Chloe, lying in an incubator attached to heart, oxygen and temperature monitors. 1. Aesthetics/Environment. (Exploring the effects of the NICU environment on babies, families and staff). Look, and listen to what is happening in the NICU. What’s going on? How would the parents feel upon entering this Unit for the first time? Put yourself in the Chloe’s position inside that incubator. How do you think she feels? How is the intensive care environment affecting her? Does she look distressed? Is she in pain? How would we know? What could we do to help her distress? What do you think its like for the nurses, doctors and other health care staff to work in this intensive care unit? 2. Multiple narratives were obtained from the doctors, nurses, and others working in the unit (physiotherapist, occupational therapist, housekeeper, care assistants). A review of the parents’ perspectives on their baby’s illness was sought: What has it been like for you having had a premature baby? What are your greatest fears? Who is there to support you? What have you been told to date? 3. Linear/Logical. We examine Chloe carefully, mainly by observation. We note the baby’s anus is not patent (open). Stool was noted passing through her vaginal opening. No other anomalies were observed. 4. Foundational. What are the problems going on here? What treatment options are available? When will the baby need surgery? Can babies feel pain? How can we help the parents to cope? (Communication, photograph, holding Chloe, transfer with her for surgery).
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5. Experiential. Tell me one point that will remain in your mind about today’s session. How can we use what we learned here in another setting? Student feedback. The students reported in their evaluations that MUSE was a more abstract approach: “Initially, I didn’t know where the session was going, but it proved to be a more holistic approach.” “We didn’t just focus on the baby’s medical/surgical condition.” “This approach compels you to look at the whole picture, rather than focusing in on a single entity. It was an invaluable learning experience because it reminds you to take care of and pay attention to the whole person–not simply the illness.” Another wrote: “Despite seeming quite odd initially, this exercise was an excellent way to help you to think outside the medical box. It helps you to focus on the specific case presented to you and to remember that, although it may seem routine and mundane at times, each life is a work of art, with a story to tell, and no two are identical. Another wrote: “As medical students we are constantly told to be observant and not forget ‘inspection’ when doing a clinical examination: but rarely are we instructed on what to look at and how to go about doing it. There are a number of ways to look at a given person or object and therefore also a number of ways to interpret what is presented. What one sees depends entirely on what one is looking for.” “What yesterday really made me realize was that even though presenting problems may be similar from patient to patient, there is always a unique and individual aspect to it all as every patient is surrounded by their own story.” As a tutor, I noticed three major teaching perspectives that I had not previously considered. First, the Aesthetic EP helps me to stand back and help students look at the bigger picture of the environment and its effects on patient, families and staff before even approaching the patient. Secondly, I now encourage students to look for a variety of narratives and perspectives, not just a single, focused medical history. Finally, the experiential EP, allows me to probe and provoke the students into considering potential knowledge, skills and attitude transfer, and metacognition as a result of the teaching experience. How can one know whether the topic has been understood, its importance grasped, and the content learned? It is only by such transfer of performance that understanding can truly be demonstrated. Art reveals that which would go unnoticed: it accentuates the invisible and creates new and unexpected connections in thinking. Art and art appreciation can help students and doctors explore and communicate perceptions, analyses, interpretations and portrayals of their educational and workplace settings, including the impact of these settings and illness on patients and their families (Fish 1998). The artistic approach encourages creativity and imagination. As in Art, some clinical exhibits are not just unquantifiable but sometimes invisible or hard to express. The American poet, William Carlos William, a medical doctor, said of his own practice: “Whole lives are spent in the tremendous affairs of daily events without even approaching the great sights I see every day” (Williams 2001). The study of Art can help students and doctors to see; to see more, to see better, to see wider and to see clearer. We shouldn’t be surprised because Leonardo da Vinci told us just that, over 500 years ago: “Study the Science of Art and the Art of Science. Learn to see and remember, everything is connected to everything else”.
Reflection in the Modern Medical Curriculum Reflection means extracting the lessons from examined experience and to integrate these with current understandings and ideas in order to move forward (Cox 2000). To consider what reflective inquiry may have to offer in the education and learning of tomorrow’s doctors, it is necessary to look back and ask: ‘What is the history of education in medicine?’ and ‘How did it get to where it is?’ What would a RI curriculum look like and would we
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be able to recognize one? Can we select reflective learners who would become tomorrow’s reflective practitioners? Such questions may allow us to situate and explore the role of RI in the contemporary medical educational continuum and to examine the responsibilities of medical teachers and curriculum designers to promote the reflective learner and practitioner. ‘How did we get to where we are?’ Schulman (2005) stated: “If you want to understand a profession, you must look to its nursery”. The nursery of medicine has been small group teaching, usually at the bedside, based on an opportunistic, apprenticeship model of education. The Flexner report (1910) brought medical education in the United States and Canada from unregulated hospitals/apprenticed based models into the Universities. The core of Flexner’s vision was that scientific reasoning should hold pride of place in the intellectual training of physicians. ‘Where do we want to be? Medical schools are shifting the focus of medical education away from Flexner’s university hospital-based model, back to a systematic competency-based apprenticeship model that recognizes the importance of context or workplace education and coaching for essential, core competencies. This modern medical curriculum is intended to be: Student centred, Problem-based, Integrated, Community based, involves Electives and a systematic apprenticeship approach: SPICES (Harden et€al. 1984). This systematic apprenticeship approach, coaches the learner-centered experiential curriculum that, in addition to the stated curriculum, intentionally investigates the hidden curriculum of professionalism, power and social inequities (Kamien et€al. 1999). A reflection-based curriculum would be appropriate for teaching medical professionalism, with an emphasis on the ABCs of professionalism (altruism, beneficence, and commitment to the patient). As Quirk (2006) said: “It is better to teach underlying thought processes of professionalism (identity, perspective, reflection, self regulation) rather than specific behaviours (wearing white coat; answering the pager)”. The SPICES curriculum is essentially supportive of RI, by encouraging active, interactive and collaborative learning, using complex case studies for integration and reflection. It is also intended to make teachers aware of the learning needs of the apprentice and to give them a better understanding of where their teaching is on the continuum of classical apprenticeship (unplanned learning and a considerable service load) and the contemporary interpretation of apprenticeship, a more intentional approach and balance to clinical teaching and service (de Cossart and Fish 2007). RI and the student experience. A search for reflective inquiry in medical curricula should focus on the student experience. Recognizing that reflection sits poorly within traditional curricula, some educators propose a more personalized curriculum that addresses the problems that students will face in practice. Dewey (1938) wanted education to emphasize knowledge that had rich ramifications in the lives of learners, knowledge worth understanding. According to Perkins, “What’s needed is a connected rather than a disconnected curriculum, a curriculum full of knowledge of the right kind to connect richly to future insights and applications” (Perkins 1997). As Paulo Freire (2005), the great Brazilian educator, (who conceptualized education as a means to empower street children with ways of understanding their world and changing it), said: “Teaching demands an understanding that education is a form of intervening in the world”. Teaching and preparing for practice with understanding needs to be emphasized in a reflection-orientated curriculum (Dent and Harden 2005, p. 387). “The true physician never graduates from medical school…he simply transfers from wherever medical education started, into a new personalized ‘medical school’ where he is both a faculty member and a student” (Dent and Harden 2005, p. 108). For Quirk (2006, p. 2), an intuition and metacognition curriculum would teach students the same skills during medical school that enable them to manage complexity in medical practice and learn throughout their lifetimes. It would focus students on how experts bring order to chaos. RI and interdisciplinarity. The RI curriculum is compatible with a constructivist understanding of learning and an interdisciplinary framework. The latter is often ignored in
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medical schools, despite repeated exhortations from the professional bodies for more interprofessional education. In a true interdisciplinary environment, all health profession graduates would know and understand the professional competencies specific to different health professions. They would know how members of other professions interact with patients and be able to communicate effectively with other professionals in a shared language. They would have an understanding of team building and team dynamics, including leadership skills and conflict resolution. These understandings need to develop from reflective, authentic collaborative learning where interdisciplinary students learn together, not just alongside each other for generic lectures. Selecting reflective learners. Student selection is a complex process and of dubious scientific rigour (Norman et al. 2002). However, the selection process is crucial in choosing the reflective practitioners of tomorrow. While education is a developmental process, many character traits, including the virtuous traits of compassion, honesty and ethical behavior, are well established prior to entry into medical school. Selection boards are increasingly looking for what McManus et€al. (1989) calls the canonical traits: intelligence, motivation, communicative ability and conscientiousness. Self-awareness, collaborative skill and, most importantly, real curiosity about people and being, may be predictive of future professional development (Neighbour 2006b). Selected students may include those with greater practical experience, reflective educational qualities, social awareness and awareness of alternative value frameworks. They must be allowed time to mature and develop self-rregulatory strategies that allow them to monitor their understanding and progress in problem solving. In particular we need to teach them how to face uncertainty and bring order to chaos through the components of reflective inquiry described earlier in this chapter. RI and Assessment. It has long been observed that assessment drives learning. The implication is that if you do not change assessments, your students will not learn. Therefore, we need to examine the understandings and priorities that our evaluation systems promote. In an RI curriculum, assessment must be multi-sourced and the process of assessment must be formative in itself. Assessment modalities should encourage reflective thought. These can include traditional written assessments, work-based performance assessment (in the clinical skills laboratory, hospital or community), portfolios, special studies projects, self and peer assessment. Portfolios are particularly good instruments to promote reflection (Dressen 2008). Writing about our learning is an essential part of reflective inquiry. Whatever the assessment modalities, we need to encourage the physicians of tomorrow to assume more responsibility for their own learning today.
Research in RI In the last few decades, emerging understandings in cognitive science has influenced educators and changed medical educational practice to include constructive reflective inquiry, in ways outlined earlier in this chapter. However, despite widespread advocacy of the RI approach, it cannot be taken for granted that reflection automatically leads better patient outcomes (Barnard 2002). In addition, there is little research evidence about its nature and place in medical education although the assumption is that if it encouraged a humanistic approach to practice, it could be considered to be of benefit. Driessen et€al. (2008) recently summarized the evidence of reflective inquiry in medicine. It has been shown to have some positive benefits for student cognition and to play a role in helping doctors learn from clinical experiences. Acquiring reflective learning skills helped undergraduate medical students to identify their learning needs and stimulated learning that focused on comprehension and understanding. Mamede and colleagues (2008) showed that although nonanalytical reasoning was shown to be as effective as reflective reasoning in routine clinical cases, reflective practice was more effective in complex situations, supporting the idea that
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reflective practice may reduce diagnostic error, which accounts for a substantial fraction of all medical errors (Mamede et€al. 2008). Future research should focus on the role of reflective practice in improving clinical reasoning and the development of educational strategies to enhance reflective practice among physicians.
Section€3: How Do We Get to Where We Want to Be? To flourish as a human being is to do the humanly most important things well, to excel at them. Aristotle
Medicine is at the crossroads. Is the profession going to continue to pursue the technical rational king (“High tech”) at all costs or is she going to regain her virtuous holistic practice embracing her artistic nature (“High touch”)? Although doctors’ training is largely based on how to apply scientific knowledge in a rational way, the practice of medicine is not purely scientific (Montgomery 2006; Saunders 2000). Reflective inquiry should be at the heart of educating for a new doctor, where students and residents acquire a crucial set of professional qualities that puts the needs of their patients first and foremost. We should aim to train wise, bright, humane, multipotential individuals with the tools and character traits necessary to provide a remedy for the disillusionment and dissatisfaction of doctors and patients alike. According to Kenny and Pellegrino what is needed is a new form of professionalism that integrates empirical science and technical skills with a public moral commitment to the patient’s welfare (Kenny and Shelton 2006). This will involve training doctors with an increased sensitivity to social responsibility in addition to a greater interaction between medical profession and society (Doukas, in Kenny and Shelton 2006, pp. 185–210). However, the profession itself needs to be more self-reflexive, especially about its social responsiveness, if students are to embrace social responsibility and advocacy as an important personal value (Iedema et€al. 2009). An education that integrates science, technology and reflective inquiry is needed, if we are to have ingenious, intelligent, fast thinking, driven, ambitious, innovative, problem solving doctors who can also listen and communicate to the people they serve: in other words, doctors who are both “High Tech and High Touch”. These doctors need to understand not only human biology but also human psychology, experiential learning and reflection. Reflective inquiry is a framework that can teach the key goals of professional education; to transmit knowledge, to impart skills and inculcate the values of the profession. The next generation of doctors should benefit from an education, which is deliberately aimed to equip them with the reflective abilities and skills for adapting to change, along with interdisciplinary collaboration. We need to aim for excellence in medical education. But it is difficult to excel at something we do not see as a central mission (Gunderman 2006). Despite otherwise stated principles, medical education is still the poor sister of the scholarship of discovery. One reason is that as physicians fail to recognize or acknowledge that the premise ‘all doctors are teachers’ is false and that medical education itself is a science. Almost 100 years have passed since Abraham Flexner, a school master from Louisville, Kentucky, was invited by the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching to critique medical education in the U.S. and Canada. In the famous report bearing his name (Flexner 1910), he stated: “Our medical schools are troubled”. The same could be said today (Arky 2007). No one would cheer more loudly for a change in medical education than Abraham Flexner. He recognized that medical education has to change itself in response to changing scientific, social and economic circumstances in order to flourish from one culture to the next. (Cooke et€al. 2006).
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It is time for a fuller review of the role of reflective inquiry in all its forms in medical education so that it may inform and help further delineate the discipline of Medicine and the education of modern doctors. We need to look beyond the bounds of medicine for insights on educational excellence, on how we learn, the workings of the human memory and the role of RI in developing medical expertise. Medical education should be regarded as a specialty, and leaders in medical education should acquire advanced training (Flexner 1910). We should also think of learners as teachers in their own right but they also need to be trained to excel as educators. We need reflective educators and doctors who are willing to explore new meanings of professionalism, who understand the forms of knowledge the doctor uses, and who illustrate good thinking and who can demonstrate good clinical judgement. Such individuals are aware of the therapeutic relationship between the wise doctor and the valued patient. Abraham Flexner, who believed in progressive education, would have approved of Groopman’s (2007) warning: “Beware of the non-reflective (medical) practitioner”. Patients need to be able to trust their physicians and have a partnership “that allows humor and sadness, questions and answers and honest give and take. It is a relationship like no other- it is sometimes life and death” (Taylor 2006a). In sum: • Scientific rationalism alone cannot prepare doctors for the multidimensional challenges of tomorrow • We need a new paradigm of education, one that incorporates the components of RI (RbA, KiA, RiA and RoA), to deal with the knowledge dilemma, increasing health system complexity, medical uncertainty, medical error and escalating disillusionment within the profession. • We need expert doctors who can solve problems and implement solutions, who communicate well, and work in a shared partnership with the patient. • Preparation (reflection before action), intuition (knowing in action) and metacognition (reflection in action) are the cognitive processes behind how doctors think during a patient encounter. They are the cognitive tools of the expert. • Common cognitive biases in medicine include biases of diagnosis fixation, search satisfaction and commission. Doctors need to know how the brain can trick them into a cognitive bias, if they are to avoid medical error. • The unexamined life is hardly worth living: RoA involves careful re-examination of experience, beliefs and knowledge, where details are recalled and analysed to gain fresh insights and take action if necessary. • The capability of critically reflecting upon one’s own practice is a key requirement for developing and maintaining medical expertise throughout life. • Appraisal of doctors should be through a process of aesthetic inquiry that is both accountable and educational. • The new paradigm in medical education directs medical schools to focus on the preparation of medical experts in an interactive, reflective, systematic, apprenticeship and competency-based model. • What is needed is an experiential learner (the reflective learner or practitioner) who is competent in continuously gaining new knowledge from self and others in a personalized curriculum, where students take more responsibility for monitoring their own learning. • The admissions process is crucial, but not empirically based, as to how to select reflective learners who will be able to cope with the complexity, uncertainty and stresses of modern health care systems. • In order for today’s medical students to grow into lifelong reflective practitioners, we have to be able to recognize reflective learners, select them, show them the way with an appropriate curriculum, allow them to learn and develop through appropriate pedagogies in safe and appropriate learning environments and apply appropriate assessments with the aim of creating life long learners,
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• The reflective teacher sets or captures problems for the student, listens and asks questions rather than giving answers. Remember: ‘Teacher always!’ • Teaching strategies for RI include modelling reflection, fostering reflective writing and reading, providing feedback on reflection and perspective taking, • Research: We need impact data of the effects of RI on patient care in addition to further education-based research to increase physician reflection. • RI is a promising framework capable of promoting life long experiential learning, enabling the doctor to manage complexity, to flourish, improve and to enjoy medical practice, while steering clear of disillusionment and burn-out.
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Chapter 7
Occupational Therapy as a Reflective Practice Ellen S. Cohn, Barbara A. Boyt Schell, and Elizabeth Blesedell Crepaeu
Occupational Therapy as Reflective Practice The profession of occupational therapy was founded in 1917 in the United States as a Progressive Era innovation to help people with mental illness by treating them with compassion, and regimens of daily activities or occupations (Schwartz 2003). The advent of this therapeutic approach was in itself an outcome of reflective inquiry by individuals from such diverse backgrounds as social work, teaching, architecture, nursing and psychiatry. The founding men and women of occupational therapy were influenced by Philippe Pinel’s moral treatment views in which he advocated a humanistic approach to replace the idea that people with mental illness were dangerous and incurable. Moral treatment involved a commitment to health through accommodating or adapting to the general mores and values of the culture through engagement in pleasurable and meaningful activities. The founders of occupational therapy adopted these beliefs. As the profession nears its centennial anniversary, occupational therapy has grown into a health profession which helps people of all ages engage in meaningful and important daily activities to support health and to participate as fully as possible in society. Services are provided in a broad variety of medical, educational, business and community-based settings. Occupational therapy services include direct interventions with individuals or groups, organizational consultations and public advocacy designed to support participation by all individuals, regardless of health status (AOTA 2008). The term occupation in the profession’s name refers to all of the activities that occupy people’s time, enable them to construct an identity through doing desired activities, and provide meaning to their lives (Christiansen 1999; Zemke 2004). Occupation includes the complex network of day-to-day activities that enable people to sustain their health, to meet their needs, to contribute to the life of their family, and to participate in broader society (AOTA 2008). The profession’s focus on engagement in occupation requires an appreciation of the lived experience of the performer, as well as the ability to objectively analyze the nature and quality of human performance in relation to contextual demands (Clark and Lawlor 2009). Unlike many health professions, occupational therapy’s focus is not on curing
E.S. Cohn () Occupational Therapy Department, Boston University, College of Health and Rehabilitation Sciences, Boston, MA, USA e-mail:
[email protected]
N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_7, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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disease, but rather on helping people do those activities which make up their lives, with full recognition that engagement in valued activities promotes health and restores meaning to life. Occupational therapy uses meaningful activities to help enable occupational performance, provide opportunities for adaptation for living with disease and disability, and promote health and participation in everyday activities. Most broadly, occupational therapy practitioners are concerned with justice, participation in society, and what people “do” in society. Thus, from the beginning to this day, the very nature of occupational therapy practice requires reflective inquiry on the part of occupational therapy practitioners, as client problems are complex, socially constructed and situated. Because of the complexity of the occupational therapy process, practitioners and clients must enter into collaborative relationships to systematically analyze client problems and goals in relation to task demands and performance contexts. Within this reflective process, the values and beliefs of the client and the practitioner, the profession, and society influence problem identification and solutions. The political, geographical, economic, organizational and sociocultural contexts in which people live and work impact daily activities and the practice of occupational therapy. The professional ethic of beneficence, a concern for the well-being of clients, guides intervention and “wellbeing” is defined and interpreted in context (AOTA 2005b). A deep understanding of the complexities of clients’ context, performance concerns and priorities, and clients’ beliefs about their own well-being is essential for effective practice. In this chapter, we examine reflective inquiry within occupational therapy as it applies to professional practice. The very nature of occupational therapy requires that practitioners use multiple strands of professional reasoning to continuously engage in reflection-in and on-practice. Effective occupational therapy is an interpretive or meaning-centered process, custom designed to address the particular life situations of clients. Thus, it is difficult to standardize practice or use uniform techniques or rules. Occupational therapy practitioners must analyze particular contexts, improvise, and modify procedures to address how clients make sense of disease or disability and its meaning for their lives. To describe this complex and multi faceted process, we adopt Schell’s definition of professional reasoning as the processes used by practitioners when designing, conducting and evaluating intervention (Schell 2003). In occupational therapy, this process inherently involves significant collaboration with the client. We further define reflective inquiry from the perspective of Schön who described the ways professionals think and act as reflection-in-action and reflectionon-action. Reflection-on-action is a process of critical analysis in which practitioners seek to examine the puzzles presented by specific therapeutic situations (Schön 1983). Reflection-on-action is prompted by a number of circumstances, which include the need to anticipate the effect of a therapeutic plan or action, to determine the effectiveness of the therapy, and to examine retrospectively how and why the therapy process unfolded as it did. The latter can range from impromptu reminiscing to structured case analysis to more formalized research processes. Like Schön, we believe that reflective inquiry also involves reinterpretation or reframing of the problem “in the moment.” This form of reflective inquiry, reflection-in-action, involves reinterpreting or reframing the nature of the problem leading to the emergence of innovative and creative alternatives (Russell and Munby 1991; Schön 1991). Ultimately, reflective inquiry involves internally examining a concern or problem by reflecting-in and -on the multiple strands of reasoning to create and clarify meaning and understanding which results in new learning, a changed conceptual perspective or alternative approaches to practice (Kinsella 2001). Taking a historical perspective, we examine how, over the years, leaders of the occupational therapy profession reflected on the profession’s focus, development, and unique response to societal needs and demands. The words of various leaders depict how the reflective processes have shaped the profession. Following these discussions of the nature of reflective inquiry in occupational therapy, we move to describing how reflective inquiry is embedded in the profession’s educational standards, the requirements for continuing
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competency as formalized by professional standards and credentialing. Various approaches to teaching reflective practices in pre-professional, fieldwork and practice arenas are described. We conclude with an analysis of the threats to reflective practice and thoughts of how the profession can respond to these threats to ensure that reflective inquiry will continue to be an integral part of occupational therapy.
Occupational Therapy: An Enduring Commitment to Reflective Practice Reflection in the Founding of Occupational Therapy Occupational therapy was born in the cradle of a social movement that was responding to a number of social conditions present in the United States at the beginning of the twentieth century. The shift from an agrarian to industrial economy generated a host of problems, including the use of child labor, abusive working conditions, and uneven distribution of wealth. The influx of a large immigrant population challenged existing resources and the fabric of social life. The rise of humanist perspectives and the steady development of scientific thoughts and methods emerged at the same time. In this early phase, the emphasis of the field was to explore how the use of occupations could promote health, with the first occupational therapy programs focusing on helping people who were institutionalized with mental illness. These programs used progressively demanding occupations to help patients with mental conditions improve and achieve balance among work, play, and rest. Focusing on human potentiality and a belief in the therapeutic value of occupation represented a philosophical shift from a view of the mentally ill as dangerous, incurable and perhaps even possessed by the devil (Peloquin 1989). Founders of occupational therapy such as Adolph Meyer, a psychiatrist, described mental problems as “problems of living” (1977/1922, p. 640) to which he prescribed occupation therapy; an approach directly connected to the daily routines and activities central to those of the moral treatment era. At this same time, John Dewey was promulgating his views on the importance of occupation to learning: An occupation is a continuous activity having a purpose. Education through the occupations consequently combines within itself more of the factors conducive to learning than any other method (Dewey as cited by Garrison 2002, p. 17S)
The influence of Dewey to the early development of the profession occurred when Julia Lathrop, a social activist who worked closely with Adolph Meyer, collaborated with Jane Adams and John Dewey to organize the Chicago School of Civics and Philanthropy. It was under the auspices of this group, that a training course was offered on occupations for hospital attendants. This course drew heavily on the approaches of the moral treatment movement which involved daily routines to help patients develop productive habits and to meet their needs for physical, recreational, and social activities (Showalter 1985). Eleanor Clarke Slagle, another social activist, took this course, and thus launched both her career and what was to become the profession of occupational therapy. Slagle was asked by Meyer to direct the Occupational Therapy Department at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore where she developed “habit training” for patients with persistent and severe mental illness – a reeducation program designed to overcome disorganized habits, to modify other habits, and to construct new ones, all with the goal of maintaining health (Bing 1981). Meyer implied the need for the early occupational therapists to be willing to engage in reflective inquiry when he described characteristics that would be needed by those who chose to take on the work of “occupation therapy”:
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E.S. Cohn et al. It takes rare gifts and talents and rare personalities to be real pathfinders [italics added] in this work. There are no royal roads; it is all a problem of being true to one’s nature and opportunities and of teaching others to do the same with themselves (Meyer 1977/1922, p. 641).
To be a pathfinder, practitioners must accept that solutions to practice will not be straightforward. Thus, from the start of the profession it was clear that reflection in- and on-action was essential to effective practice. As the US entered into the first of the two world wars, physicians and advocates saw that occupational therapy could help wounded soldiers to recover from battle fatigue (what today might be called post-traumatic stress syndrome) as well as bodily injuries (Schwartz 2003). This realization led the military to recruit highly educated young women to serve as reconstruction aides. These young women, the first occupational therapists, demonstrated the effectiveness of occupational therapy services in rehabilitation. Following World War 1, occupational therapy education programs were founded and national standards were initiated (Hopkins 1978). During this process the profession aligned itself with medicine, weakening the early ties to the social welfare movement in which occupational therapy was based. The founding attention on social advocacy for those who were not faring well in the competitive era of capitalism shifted to establishing a theoretical rationale and empirical evidence to demonstrate the scientific merit of occupations for therapy. The remarkable advances in medicine prompted this focus on science. Seeking professional credibility, occupational therapists sought to understand the power of occupation by using similar scientific methods (Kielhofner and Burke 1977; Shannon 1977).
Emergence of the Scientific Perspective: From Wholism to Mechanism By the 1940s and 1950s practitioners focused on using the scientific method to increase their understanding of the underlying structural mechanisms that influenced the person’s engagement in occupation. An unintended byproduct was decreased attention to occupational engagement as a highly complex transaction among the person, the occupation, and the surrounding physical, social, and cultural environment. Rather, occupational therapists began to focus on understanding the physiological and psychological factors that influence occupational performance problems. Activities were designed to remediate impairments or underlying pathology, in order to restore function and promote better occupational performance. These activities addressed the specific rehabilitation needs of clients but were often decontextualized and neglected the importance of meaning and pleasure derived from engaging in them. In 1955, the occupational therapy profession recognized the pioneering influence of Eleanor Clarke Slagle by establishing an annual lectureship in which a leader honors Slagle’s legacy by critically reflecting on the current state of the profession. The first Eleanor Clarke Slagle Lecture1 presented by Florence Stattel (2005) illustrated her reflection on-practice at the time and the focus on the scientific method. She discussed how occupational therapy’s potential could “be secured by correlating and strengthening our beliefs with facts. Empirical methods should be tested when possible and reasonable doubt eliminated” (p. 7). In this lecture Stattel conducted a careful analysis of how the bilateral tilt table facilitated specific movement patterns. She ended this description with the following statement, “the element of interest which is stimulated by the craft acts as a motivation for
â•›Eleanor Clarke Slagle lectures honor a member of the professional association who has creatively contributed to the development of the body of knowledge of the profession. Together these lectures collectively represent the philosophic and practice trends of the field.
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the patient to work and achieve and the sometimes inhibiting psychological factor is less apparent” (p. 12). The crafts she described for use with this table were woodworking, weaving, ceramics, and finger painting. She did not mention the interests of the individual using this equipment for rehabilitation. This lecture is an example of the closer alliance with medicine and the shift in occupational therapy to a more mechanistic view to explain health and illness. This phase was to last for a good part of the remainder of the century, as occupational therapy practitioners sought to understand the biomechanical, neurological, and psychological factors affecting human performance. The early attention to occupation was narrowed to a more fine-grained analysis of activity performance using emerging knowledge from fields such as anatomy, kinesiology, neurology, and psychology. During this time there was significant development of many different intervention approaches focused on modifying clients’ discrete or tangible underlying problems (e.g., abnormal muscle tone) believed to be interfering with human performance. Interventions included preparatory exercises and cognitive drills, the use of activities purposefully selected to elicit a desired response, specialized neuromuscular techniques to inhibit or facilitate normal movement patterns, and the development of specialized devices and adaptive technologies to change or compensate for specific problems thought to influence a person’s ability to function. Additionally, the increasing emphasis on documentation of intervention required by payment sources gave rise to more standardized assessment and intervention approaches (Sabonis-Chafee and Hussey 1998). Although the scientific emphasis was a major theme during this period, other leaders reflected on the direction of the profession, raising concerns about the humanistic aspects of the field and identifying elements of the reflective process necessary to work collaboratively with clients. Ruth Brunyate, in her 1957 Slagle lecture, described essential elements of the fieldwork component of occupational therapy education in which students apprentice under the supervision of experienced occupational therapists. In this lecture she enumerates important elements of this experience to “share our way of living” (Brunyate 2005, p. 32). Several of these elements include the ability to listen and a dedication to the patient, both critical for reflective inquiry. She also asserted the importance of feeling – the empathy that emerges from listening to patients and attempting to understand their perspectives. Eight years later, in 1965, Fidler (2005) also asserted that elements of reflective inquiry were essential to effective practice. She stated, “the capacity to effectively alter or change attitudes is dependent upon being able to look at one’s set of values and beliefs critically and objectively, to come to have some understanding of self, developing an identity and integrity sufficient to enable learning and growth to occur” (Fidler 2005, p. 117). Fidler also argued for the use of personal diaries and written logs (now known as reflective journals) to enable students to develop an enhanced understanding of the self and others and to help students to “consolidate new insights, attitudes, and concepts” (Fidler 2005, p. 123). At the close of her lecture she summed up her argument by saying, “We must teach in such a way that learning will result in a research attitude; a way of thinking so that questioning, investigation and constructively critical evaluation becomes a way of life and thus learning and growth a continuing process” (Fidler 2005, p. 126). The following year, Elizabeth Yerxa argued in her Slagle lecture for the importance of merging professional and personal authenticity with scientific reasoning when working with clients. She said, “Perhaps most significant for the future development of our body of knowledge is the increased awareness that the scientific attitude is not incompatible with concern for the client as a human being but may be one of the best foundations for acting upon that concern” (Yerxa 2005, p. 128). She further argues that “personal authenticity as an occupational therapist means that the therapist allows himself to feel real emotion as he [or she] enters into mutual relation with the client…The authentic occupational therapist is involved in the process of caring and to care means to be affected just as surely as it means
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to affect” (Yerxa 2005, p. 138). Yerxa articulated the need for practitioners to understand the client as a person, with a culturally constructed point of view, and use their “connected knowing” (as described by Belenky et€al. 1986) to reflect on the reciprocity inherent in a therapeutic relationship. During this time period, Mary Reilly urged the profession to return to the founding beliefs and focus on occupation. She used her 1961 Slagle lecture entitled, “Occupational Therapy Can Be One of the Great ideas of 20th-Century Medicine”, to encourage practitioners to use engagement occupation as a means to restoring and establishing health. She stated, “That man, through the use of his hands, as energized by mind and will, can influence the state of his own health” (Reilly 2005, p. 81). These ideas, while powerful, were not sufficient to fully return the profession to its early focus on occupation as a source of healing or to further develop ideas related to the way practitioners think about and reflect on their interaction with their clients. These tensions were still present in the late 1970s when Jerry Johnson (1977), President of the American Occupational Therapy Association during the 60th anniversary of the profession, articulated the tensions between humanistic values of the founders and the accountability demanded by the systems in which therapists worked. That same year in a landmark article, entitled “The Derailment of Occupational Therapy,” Phillip Shannon (1977) decried the abandonment of the founder’s principles and focus on occupation. He proclaimed the field to be in the sort of chaos that exemplified the Kuhnian pre-paradigm stage of professional development. In a critical reflection on the state of the field, Shannon reiterated Reilly’s call for the profession to once again focus on the power of engagement in meaningful occupation.
Synthesizing Wholism and Science: A New Appreciation of the Therapeutic Power of Occupation It took until the early 1980s and the emergence of the Model of Human Occupation (MOHO) for the field to begin to merge the two countervailing forces of occupation and biomedical science (Kielhofner and Burke 1980). Using a general systems theory approach, the MOHO provided a structure for practitioners to consider how occupation is organized into everyday patterns of behavior. The MOHO explicated the connections among motivational systems, personal roles and habits, and underlying physiological mechanisms. Further, the MOHO explained occupational performance as an interaction among these internal personal systems that resulted from the person acting on and being affected by the performance environment. Other scholars joined in developing occupationbased theories and related methods of practice (Christiansen and Baum 1997; Dunn et€al. 1994; Law et€al. 1996; Schkade and Schultz 1992). As the profession matured, the power of occupation as both a mechanism of change and an outcome of intervention became clearer, and practitioners began to apply their understanding of occupation to promote health and well-being. Although issues of professionalism can be found throughout the history of occupational therapy, the 1980s ushered in a period of intense discussion on the nature of professionalism and renewed interest in the way professionals think in-action. Joan Rogers in her 1983 Slagle lecture, focused on describing the clinical reasoning process of occupational therapists. Influenced by research on physicians, Rogers challenged practitioners to explain the reasoning behind their actions in order to improve their thinking, as well as to help educate new practitioners. In this important lecture, she articulated the scientific, ethical, and artistic dimensions of clinical reasoning. This was the first comprehensive exploration of how occupational therapy practitioners reason in practice and wove together the threads of science, our concern with the occupational goals of our clients and the ethical dimensions of
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practice. She described the art of practice as a way of dealing with “clinical problems that are not neat…they are messy and complex” (p. 352). In addressing the ambiguities of practice she cited Donald Schön’s first book on reflective practice published that year. Although the need for reflective inquiry is implied by Rogers, it was brought more firmly to the field’s attention by Diane Parham (1987) who also drew on Schön’s (1983) portrayal of the “reflective practitioner who deals with the uncertainties of practice not only by relying on technical proficiency, but also by reflecting on the nature of clinical problems as well as the potential results of treatment” (p. 556). Parham (1987) argued that professionalism included “being able to clearly and critically analyze the reasons for the decisions and actions we take” (p. 555). Occupational therapy sought to understand the thinking that guides practice. When speaking at the 1988 American Occupational Therapy Annual Conference Donald Schön noted the need to describe competent practice and to explicate the nature of thinking that takes place when practitioners do develop creative responses, in the midst of practice, to the problems they confront (Cohn 1991). These questions, and others, served as a catalyst for collaboration among the American Occupational Therapy Association, the American Occupational Therapy Foundation and Donald Schön to investigate “clinical knowledge and expertise within the profession” (Mattingly and Fleming 1994, p. ix). Using a participatory action approach, the two organizations funded a two year research project in which occupational therapists in a large medical rehabilitation setting engaged in a reflective process to understand the unfolding reasoning that develops over time, in context, as they interacted with their patients. Dr. Cheryl Mattingly, an anthropologist, and at the time a graduate student of Schön’s, used a narrative approach to engage practitioners in a process of studying their own practice. Joining her in this research were occupational therapy educators. In focused interviews, therapists prospectively hypothesized how the intervention might unfold. Following the interviews, interventions sessions were videotaped. Along with the research team, therapists, whose practices were being studied, analyzed the videotapes of their work with clients, described their reasoning, told stories about their work with clients and directly observed their actions in practice. This project, now known in the field as the “Clinical Reasoning Study” transformed the professions’ understanding of the complexity of practitioners’ reasoning and educational practices. Since the Clinical Reasoning Study, over 50 empirical studies have emerged in which researchers examine the nature of reasoning in occupational therapy (Schell and Hooper 2008). This work and related scholarship in the field are summarized in a book edited by Schell and Schell (2008a) entitled Clinical and Professional Reasoning in Occupational Therapy. Table€7.1 documents eight different aspects of reasoning which surfaced repeatedly in studies of how occupational therapists reason in the situation of practice. In addition to the emergence of cohesive theories of occupational engagement and a better understanding of the nature of reasoning in practice, the foundational ideas underlying occupational therapy also began to receive attention. In the latter part of the twentieth century, Yerxa et€al. (1990) recognized that these ideas warranted a new academic discipline. Occupational science, a translational and an interdisciplinary science (similar to the field’s interdisciplinary founders), emerged as a field of study specifically concerned with “addressing the variety of ways in which people are occupied as human beings and the impact that such engagement has on bodies, selves, communities and the world” (Clark and Lawlor 2009, p. 3). Integrating both wholism and science, occupational science scholars proffer new understandings of occupation in relation to participation, health and well-being in order to theoretically inform and influence innovative occupational therapy practice. Occupational science is particularly relevant to professionals, as it is “a new form of discipline…poised to facilitate the application or translation of new knowledge and theory into efficacious solutions to real world problems” (Clark and Lawlor 2009, p. 3). For one example, occupational scientists have examined how contextual factors and other
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Adapted from Schell and Schell (2008b)
Table€7.1â•… Different aspects of reasoning in occupational therapy Aspect of reasoning Description and focus Scientific reasoning Reasoning involving the use of applied logical and scientific methods, such as hypothesis testing, pattern recognition, theory-based decision-making and statistical evidence Diagnostic reasoning Investigative reasoning and analysis of cause or nature of conditions requiring occupational therapy intervention. Can be considered one component of scientific reasoning Procedural reasoning Reasoning in which therapist considers and uses intervention strategies for identified conditions. May be evidence-based or may reflect the habits and culture of the intervention setting Narrative reasoning Reasoning process used to make sense of people’s particular circumstances (socio, cultural, political, geographic and economic contexts), prospectively imagine the effect of illness, disability, or occupational performance problems on their daily lives, and create a collaborative story that is enacted with clients and families through intervention Pragmatic reasoning Practical reasoning is used to fit therapy possibilities into the current realities of service delivery, such as scheduling options, payment for services, equipment availability, therapists’ skills, management directives, and the personal situation of the therapist Ethical reasoning Reasoning directed to analyzing an ethical dilemma, generating alternative solutions, and determining actions to be taken. Systematic approach to moral conflict Interactive reasoning Thinking directed towards building positive interpersonal relationships with clients, permitting collaborative problem identification, goal setting and problem solving Conditional reasoning A blending of all forms of reasoning for the purposes of flexibly responding to changing conditions or predicting possible client futures
Generally not focused on client or client’s condition, but rather all the physical and social “factors” that surrounds the therapy encounter, as well as the therapist’s internal sense of what he or she is capable of and has the time and energy to complete Tension is often evident as therapist attempts to determine what is the “right” thing to do, particularly when faced with dilemmas in therapy, competing principles, risks and benefits Therapist is concerned with what client likes or doesn’t like. Use of praise, empathetic comments, and nonverbal behaviors to encourage and support client’s cooperation Typically found with more experienced therapists who can “see” multiple futures, based on therapists past experiences and current information
Clues for recognizing in therapist discussions Impersonal, focused on the diagnosis, condition, guiding theory, evidence from research or what “typically” happens with clients like the one being considered Uses both personal and impersonal information. Therapists attempt to explain why client is experiencing problems using a blend of evidence-based and client-based information Characterized by therapist using therapy regimes or strategies thought to be effective with problems identified, and which are typically used with clients in that setting. Tend to be more impersonal and diagnostically driven Personal, focused on the client, including past, present and anticipated future. Involves an appreciation of client culture as the basis for understanding client narrative. Relates to the “so what” of the condition for the person’s life
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complex life circumstances relate to biologically based impairments, diseases and disabilities and designed interventions to address life-style changes for adults with pressure ulcers secondary to spinal cord injuries (Clark et€al. 2006). As the renaissance of the concept of “occupation” continues, the profession matures, and we become a more global society, occupational therapy practitioners around the world have begun to reflect on the cross-cultural saliency of occupation as a foundational concept. Iwama (2003, 2005), an occupational therapist of Japanese ancestry who grew up in Canada, questioned the cross-cultural applicability and the assumptions of the construct of “occupation.” Taking a position of cultural relativism that truth is relative to each individual within his or her environment, situated upon the prevailing discourse of the society, Iwama argues that the social context is of primary concern. Challenging Western models and constructions of “occupation” as individual centered and rational, Iwama proposes the Kawa (River) model built on assumptions of collectivism, naturalism, and interdependence. Iwama’s reflective inquiry helps us understand our surrounding context, how context influences our interventions with clients, and challenges occupational therapy practitioners throughout the world to continue to reflect on and examine the cultural assumptions embedded in theories that guide our practice. This cross-cultural focus on occupation and the context in which it occurs has also stimulated a renewed interest in social advocacy in the form of attention to “occupational justice.” Taking a rights, equity and fairness perspective, Wilcock and Townsned (2009) assert that occupational justice occurs when all people are able to engage in meaningful occupation. Occupational therapists have begun to examine the social, cultural, political, economic, and geographical factors that impact access to participation in meaningful occupations and design interventions to promote occupational justice throughout the world. This focus has expanded the bounds of what practitioners consider and reflect upon when designing intervention with and for clients. For example, occupational therapy practitioners consider the effects of the occupational injustices and disruption for people displaced from their homes by war or environmental disasters. Occupational therapy’s commitment to promoting the health and participation of people, organizations, and populations through engagement in occupation is congruent with a social justice perspective. However, the tremendous focus on accountability, productivity and efficiency in society creates a tension between the ideals of the occupational therapy profession and the demands of society in which we live and between the ideals of reflective inquiry and practice contexts. The systems and structures to measure, record, and pay for services, whether in free-market or government-sponsored systems, are based on capitalist ideology and are challenging to translate to a human service profession, such as occupational therapy. The subjective outcomes, such as well-being and engagement in meaningful occupations, valued by clients, are not easily responsive to prescribed interventions or reduced to measurement requirements. Practitioners strive to respond to institutional demands such as mandates from third-party payers to use uniform assessments, intervention procedures and outcome measures. Such challenges only reinforce the need for professionals to continue to reflect upon the relevance of occupational therapy intervention.
Evidence-Based Practice An important trend in health care is the growing requirement to base intervention decisions on the “integration of best research evidence with clinical expertise and patient values” (Sackett et€al. 2000, p. 1). This trend grew out of a reflective process to promote a social ethic of care in which a British epidemiologist, Archie Cochrane, argued for effective,
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efficient and equitable distribution of health care services (Cochrane 1972). This process, called evidence-based practice (EBP), entails integrating research evidence into the reflective reasoning process to explain the rationale guiding intervention decisions and predict probable outcomes-or, as Gray asserted, “doing the right things, right” (cited in Holm 2000, p. 576). To provide the best possible intervention option, practitioners must reflect on and examine interventions practices to determine if they are effective and be open to change intervention approaches when the evidence suggests more effective approaches. Proponents of EBP advocate a collaborative process in which clients and practitioners communicate to analyze the best scientific evidence available in relation to the practitioner’s experience and the client’s unique preferences. Evidence-based practice is, in and by itself, a reflective process and essential to contemporary occupational therapy practice.
Summary: Reflective Inquiry in the Occupational Therapy Community of Practice As the profession approaches its centennial in 2017, occupational therapy, and the academic discipline, occupational science, continue to contemplate the “problems of living” for those whose life situations are complicated by health conditions, developmental challenges, limited opportunities to engage in meaningful occupation and the challenges of adapting to life in today’s society. Throughout its history, the profession has showed periods of reflectivity as it has worked to develop and improve the services provided and to legitimize itself in medical, educational and community arenas. Tensions naturally have emerged in this process, as the field has struggled to balance broad views of occupation as central to the health of individuals and communities, with more narrow analyses of the physiological and psychological factors influencing human performance. Indeed, the profession’s willingness to shift among macro and micro lenses to understand and help people engage in life is key to occupational therapy’s unique contribution to society. In the next section, we turn to an examination of how reflective inquiry is reinforced in the educational standards for entry level practice and the requirements of continued competency.
The Formalization of Reflection Through Education and Credentialing Given the nature of occupational therapy and its history as a profession, it should be no surprise that reflective inquiry is embedded in many aspects of professional life, from preprofessional education, to credentialing, and as an ongoing part of continuing competency. Using formal documents of the American Occupational Therapy Association (AOTA), this section examines reflective inquiry as a formalized part of professional life.
Education for Professional Entry Within occupational therapy in the United States, there are two levels of personnel; professional and technical. Occupational therapists are certified at the professional level of practice and occupational therapy assistants are certified at the technical level. Although both levels of practitioners share the core beliefs and values of occupational therapy and are
7â•… Occupational Therapy as a Reflective Practice
involved in a wide range of service delivery, occupational therapists have legal and ethical responsibility for all aspects of service delivery and thus will be the focus of this discussion (AOTA 2005a). Credentialing to become an occupational therapist in the U.S. involves three phases: • Completion of an accredited post-baccalaureate degree, either a master’s or entry-level doctorate degree (ACOTE® 2006). • Completion of a minimum of the equivalent of 24 weeks of full-time fieldwork education supervised by a credentialed occupational therapists who meet state practice acts and regulations and who have a minimum of one year of practical experience (ACOTE® 2006). • Successful completion of an examination administered by the National Board for Certification of Occupational Therapy (NBCOT). Successful completion of academic and fieldwork requirements is required prior to taking the examination. The Accreditation Council for Occupational Therapy Education (ACOTE) standards for professional entry-level practice identifies core competencies. While these competencies do not explicitly identify reflective inquiry as a core competency, the standards do identify logical thinking, critical analysis, problem solving and creativity as essential competencies for entry-level practitioners. Furthermore, entry-level practitioners are expected to analyze a client’s ability to perform tasks, select and implement appropriate assessment tools to determine the need for intervention, and use assessment findings to design intervention. This entire process requires practitioners to reflect on their worldview to consider “factors that might bias assessment results, such as culture, disability status, and situational variables related to the person and context” (ACOTE® 2006, standard B.4.7.). Moreover, the therapeutic relationship is a central aspect of the therapeutic process and one of the catalysts for change. Accordingly, the accreditation standards state that students will be able to “provide therapeutic use of self, including one’s personality, insights, perceptions, and judgments as part of the therapeutic process in both individual and group interaction” (ACOTE® 2006, standard B.5.6.). The degree to which therapists are able to develop therapeutic relationships is dependent upon therapists’ willingness to understand themselves and their relationships with clients as agents of change. While not explicitly stated, the necessity of reflective inquiry is embedded in the educational standards. Similarly, while not explicitly mandated, numerous ethical values within the profession (AOTA Code of Ethics 2005b) also require a reflective process. To provide ethical practice, occupational therapy practitioners must continually consider their own values and how their values might influence their work. Any time a practitioner makes a decision to address a personal or organizational ethical conflict he or she must reflect on the situation to provide best practice. Jensen (2005) argues that “The tools of ethical decision making include developing ‘habits of thought’ for reflecting on complex, changing situations that are part of everyday practice” (p. 192). For example, a therapist may be asked to help the rehabilitation department cover services of staff members who are on vacation. The department supervisor asks a therapist to provide a specific intervention that requires specialized training. The therapist received the specialized training 5 years ago but has not maintained her continuing competency in this particular intervention. The therapist must recognize the significant ethical features of the situation and reflect on the ethical obligations to patients and determine what ethical principles are at stake in deciding how to approach the situation. While educational standards for the academic component of professional preparation and the Code of Ethics imply the value of reflective inquiry, the educational standards for the fieldwork education component of professional education, explicitly acknowledge the importance of reflecting-in and-on practice. In fact, the educational standards state: “fieldwork experience is designed to promote clinical reasoning and reflective practice, to
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transmit the values and beliefs that enable ethical practice, and to develop professionalism and competence in career responsibilities” (ACOTE® 2006, standard B.10.14). The practice arena is where the developing professional encounters real problems and the uncertainties of practice. Cohn (1989) noted that the fieldwork experience provides students with the “situated” context to understand the culture, norms and values of the profession. Simultaneously, students confront the complexities of practice, and move beyond standard solutions to create original responses to clients’ unique situations. The occupational therapy fieldwork experience is similar to the “apprenticeship model” described by Schön (1983) and Rogoff (1990) in which the learning is scaffolded. Optimal learning experiences provide just the right amount of structure to enable the learner to complete the overall task successfully and with a sense of personal efficacy. The terms “scaffolding” and “guided inquiry” both capture elements of the supportive role of the fieldwork experience in occupational therapy education. Scaffolding is particularly important to guide the learner toward creating integrative links from academic preparation, other learning experiences and the context of practice, which then provide the base for more complex reasoning and skills to develop.
Reflection in Practice: Official Standards for Continuing Competency Although the need for reflective inquiry is implied throughout a number of professional documents guiding practitioners, it is most explicitly stated in documents and requirements related to continuing competency and the acquisition of advanced and specialty certification. Within the American Occupational Therapy Association (AOTA), there is a Commission on Continuing Competency and Professional Development (CCCPD). This group has multi-faceted responsibilities, which include suggesting official policies and standards, providing resources, and overseeing specialty and advanced certification. The influence of Schön’s (1983) work and that of other scholars of professional expertise development (e.g., Benner 1984) is clearly seen in the activities of this commission. The AOTA has an official statement on the Standards for Continuing Competence that explicates that practitioners are responsible for responsibilities of being aware of practice demands, and for considering their own professional development needs in relation to these demands: Continuing competence is a process involving the examination of current competence and the development of capacity for the future. It is a component of ongoing professional development and lifelong learning (AOTA 2005a, p. 661).
A number of standards include the expectation of reflective inquiry in competent practice (see Box€7.1) with specific examples listed as demonstrable requirements. A web based-resource entitled the “Professional Development Tool” (2003) is available to AOTA members to guide them through a three-stage process which includes selfassessment, professional development planning and the use of a professional portfolio (http://www1.aota.org/pdt/index.asp). The first step in the self-assessment is a guided reflection, prompted by questions related to the changes occurring in the person’s “practice, scope of work or work environment” (http://www1.aota.org/pdt/p2_1.htm). For this and all subsequent stages members can download forms and guides, each with prompts and suggestions for conducting a personalized process to considering their current abilities and needs for growth. Practitioners also are guided into different learning strategies likely to be most effective for identified growth needs (e.g., interpersonal skills, content knowledge, and techniques).
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Box€7.1.â•… Examples of Reflective Inquiry Embedded in AOTA Standards for Continuing Competence Selections from Standard 2: Critical Reasoning Occupational therapists and occupational therapy assistants shall use reasoning processes to make sound judgments and decisions. The individual must demonstrate: • Deductive and inductive reasoning in making decisions specific to roles and responsibilities • Problem-solving skills necessary to carry out responsibilities • The ability to reflect on one’s own practice • Application of evidence, research findings, and outcome data in making decisions Selections from Standard 3: Interpersonal Abilities Occupational therapists and occupational therapy assistants shall develop and maintain their professional relationships with others within the context of their roles and responsibilities. The individual must demonstrate: • Use of feedback from consumers, families, supervisors, and colleagues to modify one’s professional behavior Selections from Standard 4: Performance Skills Occupational therapists and occupational therapy assistants shall demonstrate the expertise, aptitudes, proficiencies, and abilities to competently fulfill their roles and responsibilities. The individual must demonstrate expertise in: • Updating performance based on current research and literature • Quality improvement processes that prevent practice error and maximize client outcomes Selections from Standard 5: Ethical Reasoning Occupational therapists and occupational therapy assistants shall identify, analyze, and clarify ethical issues or dilemmas to make responsible decisions within the changing context of their roles and responsibilities. The individual must demonstrate: • The use of ethical principles and the profession’s core values to understand complex situations Excerpts from: American Occupational Therapy Association (2005a). Standards for continuing competence. American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 59, 662-663.
Advanced and Specialty Certification For practitioners with experience who wish to obtain advanced or specialty credentials, evidence of reflective inquiry is expected in the form of a reflective portfolio that must accompany the application for these credentials. These programs are “voluntary and are
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intended to assist practitioners to continually build their capacity for meeting identified competencies in an identified area of practice” (AOTA 2007, p. 7). The explicit attention to reflection is exemplified in the introduction to the process contained in the manuals available to guide practitioners through the certification process. For example, after stating minimum professional credentials and experience, the AOTA Board Certification in Mental Health Candidate Handbook 2007 states: The process [of application preparation] requires applicants to collect and organize evidence of these professional development activities into a reflective portfolio, where the goal is to think about and describe in writing the way in which these activities led to changes in practice and to clients achieving improved outcomes. The reflective portfolio should illustrate that the applicant has the information needed for advanced practice, has knowledge of competent performance, and demonstrates consistent performance at the advanced practice level.
In addition, Board Certification includes a process of self-assessment of what one needs to learn next and the plan for attaining these new professional development goals. Thus, the reflective portfolio supports the concept that practice requires a commitment to lifelong learning and ongoing professional development (AOTA 2007, p.7).
Special Interest Sections In addition to the formalized programs designed to support professional development, the AOTA, along with many state associations, provide numerous mechanisms for more informal reflective inquiry, in both virtual and personal settings. Special interest sections abound, both formally sanctioned and spontaneously generated, in which practitioners, managers and educators rely on peers to consider and reflect on the practice challenges of the day. Within occupational therapy, some special interest sections are organized by the age of clients (e.g., AOTA Gerontology Special Interest Section), some by particular intervention approaches (e.g., AOTA Sensory Integration Special Interest Section), and some by job roles or practice settings (e.g., school-based practice, home health care). Groups meet at regional, state and national conferences, and maintain reflective conversations via list serves and blogs.
Teaching Reflective Inquiry in Education and Practice This section of the chapter will draw on examples of how reflective inquiry is embedded in the occupational therapy education process in four entry-level curricula. The examples that follow, offer educational opportunities for reflection at three levels: within the individual lesson, within a course, and across a curriculum. At the lesson level (Box€7.2) activities are designed to encourage students to identify and reflect on their assumptions about their personal abilities and social identities. This assignment asks students to examine who they are as people and how their sense of themselves may influence their verbal and nonverbal behavior and therapeutic relationships with clients. Box€7.3: The examples in Box€7.3 pertain to assignments within particular courses and are recurring or multi-stage assignments designed to help students integrate the didactic material within the course with additional reading combined with reflection on their lives or their fieldwork experience. These assignments provide the opportunity for students to engage in more extended reflective conversations with the instructor and their peers in the learning situation. The first example concerns a pre-professional course offered to first year students. The second example pertains to a course within the professional program in
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Box€7.2.â•… Educational Strategies to Promote Reflective Inquiry: Example of Analysis of Self Used Within a Lesson Know Thyself: Developed by Barbara Schell, Professor, Brenau University (Schell 2008, p. 181). Purpose: The purpose of this activity is to help learners reflect on their personal abilities and preferences and on how they affect therapy provision. Directions for Learners 1. Complete Part I of the Know Thyself reflection (see below). 2. Discuss your findings with a small group of peers. 3. Using your own thoughts and input from your peers, identify areas in which you need to either develop or improve your personal pragmatic reasoning. Use the action-planning grid to formalize your planned development. Know Thyself Worksheet Part I Therapy and me Think about the therapy that you are currently providing, or have been involved with on fieldwork. With a specific situation in mind, think about your responses to the questions in each topical area. Write down notes to yourself as you go along, so that you can discuss your thoughts with others in your group. 1. Evaluation: What assessment skills do I have? Are there any assessments that I should be using but are not? Why not? Are there assessments that I overuse? Why? 2. Intervention approaches: What skills do I have for working with this population? What skills am I lacking? How is my constellation of skills impacting the services my clients receive? 3. Physical capacities: What abilities do I have that are assets in this therapy situation? What is limited? How is therapy affected by my constellation of physical abilities? 4. Emotional capacities: What are my feelings about being a therapist in this situation? How do my feelings support or limit the therapy options that I provide to my clients? 5. Dealing with power: Are there aspects of this therapy situation that are negatively affected by people or circumstances more powerful than you? How do you deal with these situations? How effective is your response in helping your clients as occupational beings? 6. Dealing with conflict: Are there individuals that you have difficulty working with? Are there group pressures on you that are inconsistent with your views of how things should be done? How do you characteristically respond to these? How do your responses affect the services that your clients receive? 7. Life demands: What other demands do you have in your life? How do they affect you as a therapist? Do they support or detract from the services you provide? Part II Reflection on findings Discuss your findings about yourself with a partner or others in a group. • • • •
How do your personal pragmatic abilities support effective provision of therapy? How do they detract from therapy? What strategies are you using to overcome negative impacts? What do you need to work on?
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Box€7.2╅ (continued) Part III Action plan Identify three areas that you wish to focus on, and complete the following action grid. Use this to guide your personal development in pragmatic reasoning. Focus area
Action I will take
Supports needed
Planned outcome/date
Box€7.3.â•… Educational Strategies to Promote Reflective Inquiry: Example of Assignments Used Within a Course. Behavior and Development of Children: Developed by Barbara Prudhomme White, Associate Professor, University of New Hampshire. Purpose: This course in child development occurs in second semester of the freshman year. It is a requirement for occupational therapy students. The course does not address occupational therapy intervention, but focuses upon child development from a broad theoretical perspective, primarily in psychology but also neurodevelopment, sociology and other fields. Occupational implications of child development are included as a theme within the course. The assignments listed below are examples of the type of reflective inquiry encouraged in the pre-professional program of the Occupational Therapy Department at UNH. Projects: These assignments are intended to engage you in FUN and active learning exercises in which you can apply information from class to real life experiences. Each assignment should be completed and documented in a 2 paged, double-spaced (12 font) written reflection that explicitly demonstrates your understanding of links between course material and your experiences. Cultural reflection: This assignment asks you to research a culture either within or outside of the US, paying specific attention to child-rearing beliefs and practices, including the occupational expectations of children in that culture (e.g., child care, household chores, hunting, etc.) that is different from mainstream US culture. Your cultural information should be documented by 2 sources. Please provide citations. Your reflection should describe what you learned and any thoughts or opinions that you have about child rearing experiences in the culture you studied. 1. Toy store reflection: This assignment asks you to visit a toy store (online at amazon.com is acceptable) and analyze two toys regarding: (a) targeted age group, (b) cultural assumptions or bias, (c) learning or entertainment value, (d) your overall opinion of the toy’s purpose, (e) safety, (f) pro- or anti-social interactions encouraged, (g) gender assumptions or bias, (h) the occupational play behaviors expected. Please include a brief description and cost of the item, and where you saw it. 2. Cartoon review: This assignment asks you to watch 2 cartoons and to analyze them regarding: (a) targeted age group, (b) pro- or anti-social messages, (c) any themes presented, (d) your overall opinion of the cartoon, and (e) an analysis of cultural and gender aspects of the cartoon (e.g., ethnic diversities portrayed?, gender roles specific or open?). (continued)
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Box€7.3â•… (continued) Fieldwork journals: Developed by Naomi Moran, Academic Fieldwork Coordinator and Ellen S. Cohn, Clinical Associate Professor, Boston University College of Health and Rehabilitation Sciences Purpose: The purpose of this assignment is for students to practice documenting their observations of practice, reflecting on those observations and relating the observations to theoretical knowledge. Directions for Learners: Complete weekly journal entry to include: 1. Brief narrative descriptive of observations: patients/clients/children observed, activities that you assisted with and/or observed meetings or ongoing events that you participated in or observed, etc. 2. Specific topics have been pre-selected in order facilitate to a more focused discussion in the Integrative Seminar. Please incorporate concepts from your course discussions and readings into reflections on these topics when possible. • Therapeutic Rapport and Communication: Client-centered practice suggests that occupational therapists embrace a philosophy of “respect for and partnership with” people receiving our services. What interactive strategies support this philosophical ideology? It is helpful to observe tone of voice, initial approach, method of providing reassurance, encouragement, and rapport. • Mechanisms of Change: Describe a specific occasion, or several examples, of a therapist working with a client(s) to teach a new skill, or adapt/change a specific behavior. Discuss the principles/underlying the assumptions he/she is using from behavioral or cognitive-behavioral theories. • Assessment/Evaluation Process: Describe how the therapist assesses the client’s occupational performance concerns, type of interview selected, interviewing style, formal assessment tool used, or ongoing process through intervention and response of the client. • Intervention Planning, and Goal Setting: Describe the process the therapist uses to collaboratively identify goal with client; consider whether the process is formal/informal, and the degree of collaboration with client or other professionals. • Intervention/Therapeutic Use of Occupations and Activities: Describe why the intervention activity might be meaningful to clients. Do the activities consider client’s age, cognitive abilities and context? • Clinical Reasoning of Therapist: either stated or your tacit understanding. Describe sources that inform therapist’s reasoning (e.g., theory, research evidence, clinical expertise, or client centered data). • Discharge Planning: Describe process (e.g., formal or informal process, team input, family involvement, role of payment source). • Family or Caregiver Involvement: Does the setting actively involve the family or caregivers, is the family/caregiver considered in assessment and intervention processes, are there formal mechanisms to provide the family/caregiver with relevant information, or support? 3. Write a brief reflection on your overall feeling about the day’s experience including any: take away messages, notable events, surprises, highlights, disappointments, and concerns. Include any feelings you have about your own interaction with clients and with your supervisor. Please discuss (if relevant) how this weekly fieldwork is contributing to your professional development.
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which students are assigned to a particular OT setting in the community and participate in a weekly seminar pertaining to their community experience. The examples listed in this section (Box€7.4) are designed to help students reflect on their education, from analysis of writing assignments across a course to the development of portfolios designed to help students make connections across the various courses within the curriculum and reflect on professional development, goals and desired roles. Box€7.5: Fieldwork in occupational therapy education is the experience that integrates the students’ academic experience with practice. Under the guidance of experienced occupational therapy practitioners, fieldwork students begin to assume the responsibility of providing occupational therapy services to clients. These 12-week experiences are designed to prepare students to be able to practice at the entry-level by the end of the placement. As students transition out of the classroom and into fieldwork and subsequently into practice settings, supervisors take on an important role in stimulating reflective inquiry in ways that promote professional growth and development of expertise. The strategies in this section provide ways that fieldwork educators and faculty from the university setting can promote reflection throughout the fieldwork experience.
Box€7.4.â•… Educational Strategies to Promote Reflective Inquiry: Examples of Assignments Used Across the Curriculum Boston University’s Reflective Portfolio Process: Developed by Boston University, College of Health and Rehabilitation Sciences, Occupational Therapy Faculty Purpose of assignment: Students create a professional learning portfolio to reflect on and document what they have learned and how the learning has contributed to their professional development as they complete their entry level education in occupational therapy. They use their portfolio to plan their professional development and to showcase skills and knowledge to prospective employers and supervisors through the portfolio. Students may use the portfolio for preparing for the certification exam or for ongoing professional certification or professional advancement to record your competencies. What is included in a Professional Learning Portfolio? 1. Dossier Portfolio Component (Product) The dossier component of your professional portfolio is a collection of information (artifacts) that demonstrates your accomplishments and competence in different categories. 2. Reflection Learning Portfolio Component (Process) The reflective component of your portfolio includes (1) reflecting on your ongoing professional development as a student and developing occupational therapist and (2) brief annotations/reflections with each category, item and artifact that indicates why you are including it and how it relates to your professional development and goals. Why is reflection an important part of professional education and development? The ability to reflect in action, that is, to think in the midst of doing, is a critical aspect of our professional reasoning. Further, the AOTA Code of Ethics (2005) states that occupational therapy personnel are expected to achieve and continually maintain high standards of competence. To do this effectively, one must continually reflect on one’s practice, knowledge and skills, and application of these competencies (continued)
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Box€7.4â•… (continued) to one’s practice. These reflective insights are the basis for planning ongoing professional development and enhancing professional competence. Semester 1: Getting organized (P/F) • Create a hard copy file system and an electronic file system for portfolio • Begin collecting and filing artifacts • Reflect on learning style, education, final integrative reflection Semester 2: Pre-professional learning portfolio (graded) • Set up a binder with dividers, labels, table of contents, etc. • Organize artifacts in binder with reflections (what & why) • Reflect on what and why each item is included in each category; how does an item demonstrate competence and contribute to professional development • Reflect on personal/professional interests, goals, values, mission, etc. • Continue to include final integrative reflection on learning across semester’s courses and fieldwork, and professional development and goals Semester 3: Pre-professional learning portfolio (P/F) • Continue to organize and update artifacts in binder with reflections • Address any missing items or other deficiencies identified in Semester 2 grading process • Continue to include final integrative reflection on learning across semester courses and fieldwork, and professional development and goals Semester 4: Professional portfolio (P/F) • Refine portfolio, adding or removing items based on criteria for what is most relevant and appropriate to demonstrate professional development and professional competence and accomplishments in designated categories • Continue to organize and update artifacts in binder with reflections • Refine resume
Box€7.5.â•… Educational Strategies to Promote Reflective Inquiry: Examples Used During Fieldwork (Adapted from Cohn, E. S. 1989) • Consistent clients/consistent diagnostic conditions: Rather than expose students to a broad range of clients with various diagnostic conditions, students benefit from repeated interactions with the same clients so they can analyze and reflect on the effective routine approaches and learn to modify intervention in the midst of practice. • Supervisor to ask probing questions at key moments in reasoning process: “What will you do” relates to intervention strategies while, “Why are you doing it” relates to the underlying assumptions and theories that inform reasoning. “What (continued)
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Box€7.5â•… (continued) •
•
•
•
•
are the possible outcomes of intervention?” focus students’ attention on the client desires and reasons for seeking intervention. Observing the client–practitioner interaction: Ask student to construct a hypothetical intervention story based on initial data, as student observes client–practitioner interaction and gathers more information the student revises the initial story. Such a teaching strategy encourages the technical skills of observations while building a foundation for testing initial assumptions. Role modeling: Design a practice environment where reflection and evaluation of ideas are encouraged, reworded and expected as part of the daily interactive activities of the staff. Students learn to question their own practice when they observe their role models examining the traditions of everyday practice. To assist students in developing reflective inquiry, students are encouraged to refine their observation skills. When supervisors identify the cues that inform their reasoning, students learn to interrupt observational cues and attach meaning to them. Narrative analysis: Uses themes of narrative analysis the student reflects on the process of intervention by asking, “What story am I in?” while contrasting the practitioner story with the client story and asking, “What story is the client in?” Students might give each story a title and examine how the titles relate. Students might further reflect on how their intervention with the client at a particular moment in time relates to the client’s occupational past and future, in other words, the client’s evolving life story. Expert to model reflection of practice through analysis of case story: Supervisors model process-oriented case presentations in which experienced practitioners examine and describe the process of therapy, the constant revision, the obstacles confronted, and how the client and intervention process changed over time. Analyzing videotapes of practice: Reviewing videos of intervention enable supervisors and students to “stop the action” and discuss “choice points” or “stuck points” to discuss the reasoning that informed the action in the intervention session. Use of video offers an opportunity for students and supervisors to jointly assess the effectiveness of the intervention, and if necessary, design alternative intervention.
Fieldwork Discussion Board: Developed by Susan Cook Merrill, Academic Fieldwork Coordinator and Clinical Assistant Professor, University of New Hampshire. Purpose: The purposes of these web-based assignments are for students to: 1. Reflect on their fieldwork experience to articulate those experiences in language that relates back to theory, the Occupational Therapy Practice Framework, and their development as practitioners. 2. Listen to classmates’ experiences and relate their own experiences to those of their classmates to generalize about aspects of practice across practice arenas – and develop a deeper, richer understanding of the profession/practice and their role in it. (continued)
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Box€7.5â•… (continued) Directions for Learners: First Posting Prompt: 1. Describe the setting in which you are doing fieldwork along the following dimensions: type of setting (school, SNF, hospital, community...), characteristics of clients/patients (age, typical disabilities, gender if relevant...), your first impressions of the nature of OT’s role and the roles of other professionals on the team. This posting serves to orient everyone to where and what you are doing. 2. In these first few days of your experience, what has surprised you the most? This is intentionally a broad question, do not limit your thinking here – respond honestly. Second Posting Prompt: Write about intervention and evidence-based practice. Please think about the following questions when composing your thoughts. Please respond to at least one of your classmates. 1. Do the interventions being used have any evidence base? 2. What do the therapists in the practice setting know about the evidence that exists for the interventions they are using? 3. How do the therapists talk about evidence-based intervention among themselves, with other professionals and with clients/patients? 4. What are some ideas you have (that could be your student project or part of your student project) about how you can assist the therapists with evidence-based topics? Third Posting Prompt: Please address the following questions. Please give feedback to at least one of your classmates: 1. In what ways does the therapy environment enable and constrain the occupational performance of clients? 2. Describe system attitudes that promote helplessness on the part of clients/ families. 3. How might a staff-level, entry-level therapist (you!) begin to change these attitudes? Fourth (final) posting prompt (while student are completing second fieldwork experience at a different setting): This discussion is intended to help you frame your role as a leader/future leader. Please think about the following questions and compose a posting that reflects your thinking. 1. What have you done to leave a mark in your fieldwork setting (think broadly about systems, about particular patients/clients, about relationships with other members of the team...). 2. How have you contributed to OT in your setting during your nearly 3 months there? If you were to stay longer, as an entry-level practitioner employed in the setting, what are areas of contribution you would want to make? Please contribute to the thinking of one of your classmates.
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Assessing Reflective Practice: Perils and Dilemmas Educators of occupational therapy students and supervisors in the situation of practice are responsible for providing students or supervisees with timely and genuine evaluative feedback on their professional development, which includes reflective inquiry. The evaluator is challenged to consider whether the assessment methods are reliable, valid and credible indicators of the construct one is trying to measure. Given that reflective inquiry requires self-awareness that is free from constraint to examine our beliefs and assumptions, the very task of assessing reflective inquiry may be incompatible with the ideals of reflective inquiry itself. In higher education, where students are prepared to become occupational therapists, a quantitative measure in the form of a grade, score or rating, whether a number or a letter scale (e.g., A through F) is required to document performance. Similarly, in the practice arena, supervisors are required to assign a quantitative standard to performance; and the evaluation may be used for merit and salary decisions. Students and supervisees may be reluctant to express their true feelings and thoughts if they know such reflections will be assessed. Although assessment of reflective practice is filled with controversies, the need to assess reflective practice persists. Thus, the evaluator must carefully consider the potential tension inherent in the assessment process itself. The most common methods for evaluating reflective assignments have been pass/fail systems or scoring rubrics linked to course or student generated objectives with the overall score indicating the extent to which the objectives were met (Funk 2004). Occupational therapy researchers, Buchanan et€al. (2001) have identified elements of reflection specific to occupational therapy. They identified five criteria to determine if these elements occur in student’s work. The criteria provide a framework for students in their work with clients and in the writing of reflective assignments. Students’ reflections are graded on their capacity to reflect on the reasoning processes essential to effective occupational therapy practice. The assessment criteria focus on students’ ability to: • Communicate a deep understanding of the client’s illness experience and occupational performance concerns’ • Utilize theoretical constructs to describe various dimensions of practice • Identify contextual factors that may influence intervention decisions • Understand and critically examine therapeutic use of self as a mechanism of change in the intervention process • Analyze what was learned and how learning could be generalized to other situations Students may have concerns about privacy and confidentiality and we recommend being explicit about who will see the reflections before they are written. For professionals developing a reflective portfolio for continuing competence purposes, Crist et€al. (1998) recommend intermittent analysis of content with a peer, supervisor or trusted mentor. Finally, ethical considerations regarding the power implications related to the position and or relationship of evaluator with the student or supervise are central to any assessment system. The evaluator has an important responsibility to provide a fair and unbiased assessment, especially when the content is based on personal reflection.
Challenges to Reflective Inquiry and Directions for the Future In this chapter we present our view that reflective inquiry is integral to occupational therapy as a profession. A historical look at the profession’s evolution in the United States from the early twentieth century until now illustrates how leaders in the profession have responded to the challenges of practice. As the profession nears the 100th year celebration
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of the founding of the American Occupational Therapy Association, leaders have once again engaged the professions’ members in reflection about the profession, it’s role in society and the clients it serves.
AOTA Centennial Vision: The Profession Reflects on Itself Starting in late 2003, the AOTA Board of Directors designed and implemented a visioning process which iteratively engaged practitioners, educators, researcher and scholars (AOTA’s Centennial Vision and Executive Summary 2006). Part of this process required participants to consider possible futures and to reflect deeply on the implications of those futures for current and near future activities. From this effort the AOTA officially adopted the following Centennial Vision: We envision that occupational therapy is a powerful, widely recognized, science-driven, and evidence-based profession with a globally connected and diverse workforce meeting society’s occupational needs. (AOTA’s Centennial Vision and Executive Summary 2006)
Inherent to this vision are challenges requiring individuals and groups to consider a range of issues such as: • How does the profession obtain the power within social structures to maximize its potential contribution without sacrificing its social values and while continuing to advocate for individuals and groups whose ability to participate in desired occupations is compromised? (White 2009). • Closely related to the first question is one of who will pay for services and how can current pressures for productivity be balanced with the need for nuanced evaluation and intervention which is consistent with emerging evidence related to therapy outcomes (Howard 1991; Slater 2006)? • What is the essence of the profession which should be “widely recognized”? Occupational therapy’s wide application and use of customized approaches defies the use of simple descriptors which seem necessary in today’s society to gain recognition. • What kind of science and what kind of evidence is most effective for making professional decisions (Coster 2008)? • How should practitioners be best prepared to meet a broadening array of clients in across a range of cultural and ethnic contexts (White 2009)? • Do the methods evolved from individual and small group services work with larger communities and populations? (White 2009)?
Threats to Reflective Practice In the managed health care environment of the United States today, driven by third-party payers and cost containment, productivity requirements are common. Practitioners are expected to be efficient and effective in within ever more challenging institutional constraints. Despite calls for evidence-based practice, institutional constraints limit time for retrospective reflection-on practice. Moreover, administrators in medical settings are using business oriented program management models rather than discipline based departmental models. Consequently, occupational therapy practitioners function in multi-disciplinary teams, and are often supervised by managers or team leaders who have different professional backgrounds. Although there are advantages to this approach, it poses a particular challenge in regard to inducting new professionals into practice and the development of
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discipline specific expertise (Braveman 2006). In other practice settings, such as school environments, some home health care situations, or rural environments, practitioners may be working without the benefit of colleagues to engage in reflective dialogs. Fortunately, contemporary technology enables virtual communication for those without immediate access to colleagues.
Studying Reflective Inquiry: Individual and Community Perspectives At the individual practitioner level, the methods for studying practice, and thus reflective inquiry and the particular focus of that inquiry are the challenges the profession faces (Schell et€al. 2008; Unsworth 2008). Although there have been many studies of clinical and professional reasoning in the field, some of the methodologies used suffer from overreliance on retrospective reports. A particular problem with these methodologies is the lack of adequate strategies that minimize practitioner tendencies to reconstruct their thoughtsin-action. Even with the best of intentions, there are also the unintentional effects of both short and long-term memory which may compromise an accurate reading of what “actually” occurred. Further, the rich array of sensory data, much of which may be tactic, is difficult to access and represent. New technologies, such as miniature video cameras and recorders, may help minimize distortions in the data collected, thus permitting a more accurate and “real-time” portrayal of practitioner reflection inquiry. Reflective inquiry also must be examined in relation to the community of practice in which practitioners find themselves (Schell et€al. 2008; Wenger 1998). Ecological perspectives which acknowledge the psychological processes of the practitioner but place these processes within the physical and social context of the practice setting, offer potential for a more powerful and complete representation of reflective inquiry within any profession, including occupational therapy. From these more thorough and grounded analysis emerges new possibilities for professional education, immersion in the field and lifelong professional development.
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7â•… Occupational Therapy as a Reflective Practice Braveman, B. (2006). Understanding and working within organizations. In B. Braveman (Ed.), Leading and managing occupational therapy services (pp. 53–80). Philadelphia: F.A. Davis. Brunyate, R. W. (2005). Powerful levers in little common things. In R. Padilla (Ed.), A professional legacy: The Eleanor Clarke Slagle lectures in occupational therapy, 1955–2004 (2nd ed., pp. 27-40). Bethesda, MD: AOTA Press. (Reprinted from American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 1958, 12, 193-202.) Buchanan, H., van Niekerk, L., & Moore, R. (2001). Assessing fieldwork journals: Developmental portfolios. British Journal of Occupational Therapy, 8, 398–402. Christiansen, C. H. (1999). Defining lives: Occupation as identity: An essay on competence, coherence, and the creation of meaning. The American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 54, 547–558. Christiansen, C. H., & Baum, C. (Eds). (1997). 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Coster, W. J. (2008). Curricular approaches to professional reasoning for evidence-based practice. In B. A. B. Schell & J. W. Schell (Eds.), Clinical and professional reasoning in occupational therapy (pp. 311–334). Philadelphia: Lippincott, Williams & Wilkins. Crist, P., Wilcox, B. L., & Mc Carron, K. (1998). Transitional portfolios: Orchestrating our professional competence. American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 9, 729–736. Dunn, W., Brown, C., & Mc Guigan, A. (1994). The ecology of human performance: A framework for considering the impact of context. The American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 48, 595–607. Fidler, G. S. (2005). Learning as growth process: A conceptual framework for professional education. In R. Padilla (Ed.), A professional legacy: The Eleanor Clarke Slagle lectures in occupational therapy, 1955–2004 (2nd ed., pp. 115-126). Bethesda, MD: AOTA Press. (Reprinted from American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 1966, 20, 1-8.) Funk, K. P. (2004). 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The Kawa (river) model: Nature, life flow, and the power of culturally relevant occupational therapy. In F. Kronenberg, S. S. Algado & N. Pollard (Eds.), Occupational therapy without borders: Learning from the spirit of survivors (pp. 213–227). Philadelphia: Elsevier. Jensen, G. M. (2005). Mindfulness: Applications for teaching and learning in ethics education. In R. Purtilo, G. M. Jensen & C. B. Royeen (Eds.), Educating for moral action: A source-book in health and rehabilitation ethics (pp. 191–202). Philadelphia: F. A. Davis. Johnson, J. (1977). Humanitarianism and accountability: A challenge for occupational therapy on its 60th anniversary. American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 31, 631–637. Kielhofner, G., & Burke, J. P. (1977). Occupational therapy after 60 years: An account of changing identity and knowledge. American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 31, 675–689. Kielhofner, G., & Burke, J. P. (1980). A model of human occupation: Conceptual framework and content. American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 34, 572–581. Kinsella, E. A. (2001). Reflections on reflective practice. Canadian Journal of Occupational Therapy, 3, 195–198. Law, M., Cooper, B., Strong, S., Stewart, D., Rigby, P., & Letts, L. (1996). The person-environmentoccupation model: A transactive approach to occupational performance. Canadian Journal of Occupational Therapy, 63, 9–23.
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E.S. Cohn et al. Mattingly, C., & Fleming, M. (1994). Clinical reasoning-forms of inquiry in a therapeutic practice. Philadelphia: F.A. Davis. Meyer, A. (1977/1922). The philosophy of occupation therapy. The American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 31, 639-642. Parham, D. (1987). Toward professionalism: The reflective therapist. American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 41, 555–561. Peloquin, S. M. (1989). Moral treatment: Contexts considered. American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 43, 537–544. Reilly, M. (2005). Occupational therapy can be one of the great ideas of 20th-century medicine. In R. Padilla (Ed.), A professional legacy: The Eleanor Clarke Slagle lectures in occupational therapy, 1955–2004 (2nd ed., pp. 80-93). Bethesda, MD: AOTA Press. (Reprinted from American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 1962, 16, 1-9.) Rogers, J. (1983). Clinical reasoning: The ethics, science, and art. American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 37, 601–616. Rogoff, B. (1990). Apprenticeship in thinking: Cognitive development in social context. New York: Oxford University Press. Russell, T., & Munby, H. (1991). Reframing: The role of experience in developing teachers’ professional knowledge. In D. A. Schön (Ed.), The reflective turn: Case studies in and on educational practice (pp. 164–187). New York, NY: Teachers College Press. Sabonis-Chafee, B., & Hussey, S. M. (1998). Introduction to occupational therapy. St. Louis, MO: Mosby. Sackett, D. L., Straus, S. E., Richardson, W. S., Rosenberg, W., & Haynes, R. B. (2000). Evidence-based medicine (2nd ed.). Edinburgh: Churchill Livingstone. Schell, B. A. B. (2003). Clinical reasoning: The basis of practice. In E. B. Crepeau, E. S. Cohn & B. A. B. Schell (Eds.), Willard and Spackman’s occupational therapy (10th ed., pp. 131–139). Philadelphia: Lippincott, Williams, & Wilkins. Schell, B. A. B. (2008). Pragmatic reasoning. In B. A. B. Schell & J. W. Schell (Eds.), Clinical and professional reasoning in occupational therapy (pp. 169–187). Philadelphia: Lippincott, Williams & Wilkins. Schell, B. A. B., & Hooper, B. (2008). Appendix: Bibliography of clinical and professional reasoning. In B. A. B. Schell & J. W. Schell (Eds.), Clinical and professional reasoning in occupational therapy (pp. 433–442). Philadelphia: Lippincott, Williams & Wilkins. Schell, B. A. B., & Schell, J. W. (2008a). Clinical and professional reasoning in occupational therapy. Philadelphia: Lippincott, Williams & Wilkins. Schell, B. A. B., & Schell, J. W. (2008b). Professional reasoning as the basis of practice. In B. A. B. Schell & J. W. Schell (Eds.), Clinical and professional reasoning in occupational therapy (pp. 3–12). Philadelphia: Lippincott, Williams & Wilkins. Schell, B. A. B., Unsworth, C. A., & Schell, J. W. (2008). Theory and practice: New directions for research in professional reasoning. In B. A. B. Schell & J. W. Schell (Eds.), Clinical and professional reasoning in occupational therapy (pp. 401–431). Philadelphia: Lippincott, Williams & Wilkins. Schkade, J. K., & Schultz, S. (1992). Occupational adaptation: Toward a holistic approach to contemporary practice: Part 1. The American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 46, 829–837. Schön, D. A. (1983). The reflective practitioner: How professionals think in action. New York: Basic Books. Schön, D. A. (Ed). (1991). The reflective turn: Case studies in and on educational practice. New York: Teachers College Press. Schwartz, K. B. (2003). The history of occupational therapy. In E. B. Crepeau, E. S. Cohn & B. A. B. Schell (Eds.), Willard and Spackman’s occupational therapy (10th ed., pp. 5–13). Philadelphia: Lippincott, Williams, & Wilkins. Shannon, P. D. (1977). The derailment of occupational therapy. The American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 31, 229–234. Showalter, E. (1985). The female malady: Women, madness, and English culture, 1830–1980. New York: Penguin. Slater, D. Y. (2006). The ethics of productivity: Occupational therapy practitioners have a legal and ethical responsibility to their clients, regardless of facility policies. OT Practice, 11(19), 17–20. Stattel, F. M. (2005). Equipment designed for occupational therapy. In R. Padilla (Ed.), A professional legacy: The Eleanor Clarke Slagle lectures in occupational therapy, 1955–2004 (2nd ed., pp. 7-14). Bethesda, MD: AOTA Press. (Reprinted from American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 1956, 10, 194-198.) Unsworth, C. A. (2008). Review of methodologies for researching clinical reasoning. In B. A. B. Schell & J. W. Schell (Eds.), Clinical and professional reasoning in occupational therapy (pp. 371–400). Philadelphia: Lippincott, Williams & Wilkins.
7â•… Occupational Therapy as a Reflective Practice Wenger, E. (1998). Communities of practice. Cambridge, U.K.: Cambridge University Press. White, J. (2009). Questions for occupational therapy practice. In E. B. Crepeau, E. S. Cohn & B. A. B. Schell (Eds.), Willard & Spackman’s occupational therapy (11th ed., pp. 262–272). Philadelphia: Lippincott, Williams & Wilkins. Wilcock, A. A., & Townsned, E. A. (2009). Occupational Justice. In E. B. Crepeau, E. S. Cohn & B. A. B. Schell (Eds.), Willard & Spackman’s occupational therapy (11th ed., pp. 192–199). Philadelphia: Lippincott, Williams & Wilkins. Yerxa, E. (2005). Authentic occupational therapy. In R. Padilla (Ed.), A professional legacy: The Eleanor Clarke Slagle lectures in occupational therapy, 1955–2004 (2nd ed., pp. 127-140). Bethesda, MD: AOTA Press. (Reprinted from American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 1967, 21, 1-9.) Yerxa, E., Clark, F., Frank, G., Jackson, J., Parham, D., Pierce, D., et€al. (1990). An introduction to occupational science: A foundation for occupational therapy in the 21st century. Occupational Therapy in Health Care, 6, 1–17. Zemke, R. (2004). The 2004 Eleanor Clarke Slagle Lecture – Time, space, and the kaleidoscopes of occupation. The American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 58, 608–620.
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Chapter 8
Application of Critical Reflective Inquiry in Nursing Education Hesook Suzie Kim, Laurie M. Lauzon Clabo, Patricia Burbank, and Mary Leveillee Diane Martins
Introduction Reflective practice, the concept popularized by Schön’s (1983) work, has been applied in nursing for various purposes, including as (a) a general orientation for nursing education both for curriculum development and in developing clinical competency especially in the UK (UKCC 1986, 1990), (b) a way to narrow the gap between theory and practice in clinical practice (Clarke 1986), and (c) a way to discover knowledge embedded in practice (Benner et€ al. 1996). There are many versions of specific meanings attributed to the concepts of reflection and reflective practice in the nursing literature (Atkins and Murphy 1993; Newell 1994; Burton 2000). These concepts with varying meanings have been applied in educational programs to train nursing students and practicing nurses in developing clinical competence (Wallace 1996; Smith 1998; Mountford and Rogers 1999; Glaze 2001; Liimatainen et€al. 2001; Peden-McAlpine et€al. 2005). Most of the educational applications of reflective practice have been oriented to the concept of Schön’s reflection-on-action rather than on reflection-in-action. As Schön (1983) described, reflection-in-action involves an on-line, real time process of being immersed in the situation of practice while also continuously inquiring about the situation and one’s approach to it. This is a difficult process that is more appropriate and possible in the practice of experts rather than that of novice or students. As a learning approach, therefore, the concept of reflection-on-action, which refers to a post hoc process of reflection, has been taken up in nursing education, applying reflective strategies using journals, diaries, or critical incidents focusing on practice that has occurred. This paper reports on the experiences of applying critical reflective inquiry, which is a model developed within the broad conceptualization of reflective practice, in clinical practicum courses in an undergraduate nursing program. Critical reflective inquiry (CRI) as developed by Kim (1999) is a method suggested for learning from one’s own practice by examining the practice after it has occurred. This method of inquiry focuses on delving into the background (i.e., the foundation) in which actual practice occurs, through the processes of reflection and critique. The aim is for the practitioner to gain an understanding of the knowledge, values, and attitudes that are integrated into actual practice and to evaluate the practice in order to learn from one’s own practice.
H.S. Kimâ•›() College of Nursing, University of Rhode Island, Kingston, RI, USA e-mail:
[email protected]
N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_8, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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Learning in practice is a critical component within nursing education and has its base on the assumption that the competency in professional practice develops through both the integration of propositional knowledge into one’s personal knowledge for a ready-access and through the acquisition of practical know-how and clinical skills by repeatedly engaging in clinical work (Eraut 1994). Although clinical learning is provided to students through various methods including clinical simulation, laboratory practice sessions, and clinical projects, the core process is the clinical practicum in which students are actually engaged in clinical situations providing nursing care. The core teaching method within clinical practicum involves supervision by a faculty member or a preceptor who demonstrates exemplar practice, provides evaluation and feedback, and facilitates opportunities for exposure to and engagement in various clinical experiences. Since clinical supervision is a process involving feedback from a supervisor (a faculty member), critique and evaluation on students’ practice originate not from students themselves, but from outsiders. This may not foster students’ own self-examination, which is a critical process for professional development. In 2002 our school instituted the program of CRI for undergraduate students in order to help them to develop the habits of self-examination and post hoc reflection on clinical practice as a formal method of teaching within clinical practicum courses.
Critical Reflective Inquiry: An Approach to Improve Practice and Discover New Knowledge Kim (1999) proposed the method of CRI as an analytic approach based on the concepts of narrativity of human activity, reflection, critique, and emancipation. This method of inquiry is founded upon the ideas in (a) action science (Argyris and Schön 1974; Argyris et€ al. 1985) with a focus on Schön’s reflective practice (1983, 1991) and (b) critical philosophy (Habermas 1971) incorporating the concept of critical reflection (Freire 1972). This method is not only focused upon discovering new, synthesized knowledge of good practice, but also on understanding the nature and meaning of practice to practitioners, and correcting and improving the practice through self-reflection and critique. Application of CRI in clinical practice is an important approach for both clinicians and students to remain in a learning mode, and to facilitate what Argyris and colleagues (1985) refer as Model II learning, in which one is open to self-monitoring, self-correction and generativity in practice. CRI not only provides opportunities for clinicians (or students) to examine their use of knowledge in practice, their attitudes and values that enter into practice, and their competence, but it also leads them to rethink their relationships with clients, awakening them to clients’ perspectives and bringing clients’ knowledge and meanings into the design and action in practice. Through the application of CRI in clinical practice, a clinician becomes what Schön (1983) calls “a researcher-in-practice.” The goal is in line with the notion that “when a practitioner becomes a researcher into his own practice, he engages in a continuing process of self-education” and “when he functions as a researcher-in-practice, the practice itself is a source of renewal” (Schön 1983, p. 299). This process of integrating the method into practice is important as both reflection and self-critique are not necessarily the intrinsic modes of our usual actions (Kim 1999). An assimilation of this mode of inquiry as a part of a clinician’s (or a student’s) practice is a way to promote this learning mode as a natural method in practice. By assimilating this mode of inquiry into one’s practice, the clinician practices in an open learning mode, continuously scripting, reflecting, and critiquing his/her practice. The clinician becomes a critically reflective practitioner who is engaged in discovering self in practice in terms of actions, thoughts, feelings, and attitudes, and is able to look upon one’s own actions in a detached, open stance so that one’s own practice is evaluated for quality, satisfaction, and
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completeness. As the clinician assimilates this inquiry method, it is also possible for him/ her to identify clinical knowledge that is exemplary. As the clinician practices in the mode of CRI, she/he is less likely to become entrenched with closed-end routinizations and unilaterally oriented to self in relationships, and more likely to stay open to learning and be self-corrective in practice (Kim 1999). The method includes: (a) the descriptive phase for narratives or scripting, (b) the reflective phase for reflection and analysis, and (c) the critical phase for critique and emancipation as three distinct but interrelated phases (Fig.€8.1). Through these phases a clinician (or a student) gains critical knowledge of synthesis in practice, attains insights into inadequacies and shortcomings in practice, and engages him/her in self-corrective learning. The descriptive phase (Phase I) involves a thorough narrative description by the practitioner of a specific instance, situation, or case of practice. The reflective phase (Phase II) involves a careful analysis of the narrative in a reflective mode with three different foci: (a) reflecting against standards or the “espoused theories” in the action science perspective, (b) reflecting on situation, and (c) reflecting on intentions. From the knowledge development perspective, this phase is involved in identifying how the synthesis of knowledge occurs in practice. From this phase, models of “good” practice, theories of application, and knowledge regarding the process of practice can be identified and constructed. It is also possible to discover omissions, deviations from the optimum, systematic inconsistencies,
P H A S E S
P R O C E S S E S
P R O D U C T S
Descriptive Phase
Reflective Phase
Critical/ Emancipatory Phase
• Description of practice events (actions, thoughts, & feelings)
• Reflective analysis against espoused theories (scientific, ethical & aesthetic) • Reflective analysis of situation • Reflective analysis of intentions, attitudes, values, & emotions
• Critique of practice regarding inadequacies, conflicts, distortions, & inconsistencies • Engagement in emancipatory & change process • Description of practice models
• Knowledge about practice processes & applications • Selfawareness
• Learning & change in practice • Self-critique & emancipation • Synthesized models of practice
• Examination of descriptions for genuineness & comprehensiveness
• Descriptive narratives (Scripts)
Fig.€8.1╅ Phases in critical reflective inquiry
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“poor” practice, or ineffectual routinizations that exist in practice. The third phase is the critical/ emancipatory phase, which is oriented to correcting and changing less-than-good or ineffective practice, or moving forward to future assimilation of new innovations emerging in practice. This phase involves critical self-discourses that are aimed at discovering the nature and sources of distortions, inconsistencies and incongruence between the actual practice and the expected, desired or optimal. The process using self-dialogue, critique, and argumentation can lead to self-emancipation regarding practice and change in practice.
Application of Critical Reflective Inquiry in Nursing Education Application of CRI into our curriculum involved four steps: (a) preparation of the faculty, (b) orientation of students to the method, (c) implementation of CRI in each clinical course within the curriculum, and (d) an evaluation. The faculty as a group in its continuing deliberations regarding how to improve clinical teaching sought ways to enhance students’ learning. After hearing about CRI from the originator of CRI and reading the article (Kim 1999), the faculty decided that the College should try to incorporate this method in their clinical teaching. Because many faculty members were already using various strategies for students to write about their clinical experiences, such as diaries, incident reports, and patient-care notes, the faculty as a whole arrived at a conclusion that CRI would provide the structure and standardization to all clinical practicum courses.
Preparation of the Faculty For an application of CRI, it was necessary first to prepare the faculty members both to be committed to and comfortable with the method so that they could guide students to move with the application. The faculty members as a group consented to act as “interventionists” in the action science tradition (Argyris et€ al. 1985), who were to provide assistance to students to change themselves and be self-directive eventually in all phases of the inquiry. Action science interventionists are facilitators who create the climate of practice to be conducive to inquiry and learning as well as assisting in behavioral changes. To be an interventionist, one must accept the foundational ideas embedded within CRI, especially the tenets of action science and reflective practice, and the philosophical assumptions in critical philosophy. Interventionists must also have used this method in their own practice, and should be competent in engaging in the processes of description, reflection, and critique. In order to prepare the faculty members as interventionists, we held two full-day faculty workshops in which CRI was explained and practice sessions were held to allow the faculty to actually carry out CRI themselves. Group discussions were held to examine the faculty’s experiences and understanding of narrative writing (Phase I), reflective thinking (Phase II), and critique/emancipation (Phase III). Since the first step in the application of CRI in clinical practice involves learning the approach and becoming comfortable with scripting (writing narratives), reflection and self-critique, the faculty members had to become familiar and comfortable with the method in order to be the interventionists to students. We developed a set of specific questions that were to be used as guides for each phase both for students and the faculty as listed in Fig.€8.2. All faculty members teaching a practicum course practiced writing scripts and carrying out reflection and critique on their own experiences. After practicing with CRI individually, the faculty also discussed a sample of their CRIs as a group to examine the contents according to the guiding questions developed for each phase.
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Phase I : Descriptive Phase 1. Is this an accurate description of what existed in the situation (features, circumstances, and other environmental aspects) at the time? 2. Is my pre-understanding of the situation accurately depicted? 3. Does this depict a truthful and accurate description of actions of myself and others (behaviors, happenings, speech, and interactions)? 4. Is this a truthful and accurate description of my thoughts of the time? Did I invent any of the thoughts included in this description? Did I omit any of the thoughts that existed at the time? 5. Is this a truthful and accurate description of my feelings of the time? Did I invent any of the feelings included in this description? Did I ex-aggerate or minimize my feelings of that time in any Way? Did I omit any of my feelings that were felt at the time?
Phase II : Reflective Phase 1. What did I believe guided my actions (or inactions)? 2. What do I think guided my actions as I think back now? 3. On what knowledge were my actions based? 4. What was the knowledge that was important in this situation? Why were these important? 5. Did I possess the knowledge required in this situation? 6. What sorts of values or ethical standards guided my actions? 7. How did these values or ethical standards determine my actions? 8. How was my "self" revealed in this situation? 9. Were my actions harmonious with the situation? How so? 10. What did I think were the salient features of the situation I faced? 11. Why did I think those were the salient features? 12. What aspects of the situation influenced my actions? In what ways and why? 13. What were my intentions in that situation? What did I want from my actions? 14. Were my intentions in agreement with the client's goals? 15. Why did I carry out the actions in the way I did in that situation? 16. What were the outcomes of the situation I wanted? 17. Did I get the outcomes I wanted in this situation? 18. To what extent did I not get the outcomes I wanted? Why not?
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Phase III: Critical Phase 1. Were my actions in this situation the best, most appropriate, and successful? If so, what caused it? If not, what were the reasons? 2. To the extent that I got the outcomes I wanted in this situation, were the outcomes most appropriate and desirable ones? From whose perspectives? Were there other outcomes that I should have considered? 3. Did I use the knowledge appropriately? Do I know what I did not know in the situation? 4. Were the knowledge applied in the situation the most appropriate ones? 5. Do I need to revise my knowledge base? If so, in what ways and why? 6. Did I apply the most appropriate set of ethical values and standards in the situation? Are there other ethical values and standards with which I should have acted in the situation? If so, what are these and why are they important? Why did I miss them? 7. Do I need to rethink about my values and attitudes? If so, about what, how, and why? 8. What have I learned from this situation? 9. How could I change my practice in the future? 10. Do I need to seek to become authentic in myself? If so, how can I accomplish it? 11. What were the critical factors that got in my way of doing a better job? Why?
Fig.€8.2╅ Guiding questions used for each phase within critical reflective inquiry
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Preparation of Students At the beginning of each semester (starting in the fall of 2002) students were oriented to CRI in lectures as a large group and in clinical conferences in each of the clinical groups within the clinical practicum courses (usually 8–10 students in a group). The students were given the guiding questions for each phase, and examples were used to illustrate the processes of scripting, reflecting, and critiquing in CRI.
Implementation of CRI in Clinical Practicum Courses There were a total of six clinical practicum courses in the undergraduate program ranging from the health promotion course at the first clinical level to the long-term care course at the senior level. Students usually took the first clinical practicum course in the second semester of their sophomore year of the program. A group of the faculty members involved in teaching a clinical practicum course (the group consisting of between two to four faculty members for a specific course depending on the number of students enrolled in the course as the normal size of a clinical group for a clinical practicum course was about eight students) determined the exact procedures of implementing CRI in the course, including the specific responsibilities of students and faculty. In general, the procedures included the expectation that students should submit written CRI on a regular basis (some weekly, and others three or four times during a semester) for the faculty’s feedback and/or group discussions regarding individual CRIs. Some of the faculty members used e-mail as the mechanism through which faculty feedback was provided followed by students’ responses to them allowing the use of CRI as a specific way of learning. In most clinical practicum courses, there were group discussions of students’ CRIs in order to learn from other students’ experiences at clinical conferences held weekly. The faculty as a whole decided not to use the quality of students’ CRI reports as a basis for grading clinical practicum courses.
Evaluation of CRI Implementation The evaluation of implementing CRI in the program was done in each of the courses at the end of semesters, and within the College’s overall evaluation plan. The general responses from the students and faculty in the use of CRI were positive, as its application is being continued. A systematic evaluation of an innovation is a critical component of curriculum development. The College has been engaged in a systematic evaluation of the CRI program as well as other innovations introduced into its curriculum. The results of the systematic evaluation are not reported here as the focus of this paper is on the content of CRIs rather than on the process of application.
Analysis of CRI Reports: What Are Revealed in the Students’ CRI Reports Students submitted to their clinical faculty members written CRI reports that consisted of the clinical scripts (Phase I), their reflective notes (Phase II), and their ideas regarding critique and needs for change (Phase III) according to the specific guidelines provided for each clinical nursing course. Students were encouraged to begin their CRI with uncomplicated
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or routine clinical experiences in the beginning and move into troublesome or difficult incidents. Students’ written CRI reports were then reviewed and commented upon by the faculty members, and some were brought to group discussions with students’ permission. A sample of 37 CRI reports from students who practiced with CRI in 2004 which included the faculty members’ comments were analyzed in order to examine the nature of learning issues and contents embedded in these reports with the students’ consent. Each faculty member was asked to submit a set of exemplary CRI reports that either dealt with interesting clinical or practice issues or were of high quality in terms of scripting, reflecting, and critiquing. Of the 37 reports, 11 were by RN students enrolled in the BS program of the College. Most of the RN students were the graduates of Associate Degree programs in nursing. All of the clinical practicum courses were represented in this sample, ranging from 3–7 for each of the courses. The method of analysis involved reading the CRIs carefully in order to identify critical themes in the scripts, types of reflections made in relation to the guidelines for Phase II, and contents of critiques and recommended changes to improve practice. A standard qualitative content analysis technique was applied as the method of analysis.
The Descriptive Phase (The Clinical Scripts) All 37 CRI scripts dealt with clinical situations in which the students felt discomfort or inadequacy, or experienced difficulties in handling the situations or problems. This was expected as the students began practicing with CRI at the beginning of the semester with routine incidences, and then moved into dealing with difficult or troublesome situations. The clinical incidents reported in these CRIs were categorized into five types after the first reading of all CRIs: (a) client–nurse interaction and communication issues, (b) issues related to knowing the patient or patient identity, (c) nursing care issues, (d) ethical issues, and (e) issues arising in the interpersonal relationships with other health-care professionals. However, these categories were not mutually exclusive as most of the clinical incidents dealt in these CRIs have embedded in them issues pertaining to two or three categories, indicating the complex nature of problems embedded in these incidents. However, for this report, we classified each CRI exclusively into one category focusing on the major issue. A. Client–nurse interaction and communication issues. Six of the 37 CRIs specifically dealt with problems, concerns, and difficulties in interacting or communicating with patients. The students wrote about their awkwardness in approaching patients, problems associated with questioning involved in investigating patients’ problems, not being able to catch cues given off by patients to follow through in communication, not being sensitive to patients in communicating, and not having various communication strategies to meet individual situations. Three students who wrote about their experiences in meeting patients with mental health problems for the first time were uneasy and unsure of themselves, and seemed not sure of their goals for such clinical encounters. All three students were passive in their communications with their patients, and when they assumed an active role it was to investigate the causes of the patients’ problems. In another CRI, a student wrote about an incident in which she talked to a young male patient who became paralyzed from a motorcycle accident. She talked about a “diaper” and was reprimanded by the patient’s mother regarding the use of this term and being insensitive. B. Issues related to knowing the patient or patient’s identity. This category of clinical incidents focused on the students’ difficulties in dealing with patients’ identities, especially stigmatizing ones. Seven of the 37 CRIs were in this category. Although students realized they should strive to understand patients for their individuality and respect them as persons, they were hampered by preconceptions about drug abuse, criminality,
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alcoholism, Alzheimer’s disease, and mental illness. When they were pre-informed of their patients’ identities regarding such stigmatizing labels, their reluctance in actions, ambivalence in feelings, and biased judgments regarding patients’ behaviors were apparent. In all of these CRIs, the students did not know their patients as persons except for the labels given to them such as medical diagnoses or other identifications such as being a drug abuser, homeless, or “demanding” learned mostly from reports or health-records. In all of these scripts the students entered into the clinical encounters with preconceived notions about what people with such labels would be like and what to expect from them. The students described their actions usually guided by such preconceptions, and were often surprised by what ensued that made them realize their biases. C. Nursing care issues. Fifteen of the 37 CRIs were regarding nursing care issues, ranging from how to teach patients to be independent in colostomy care to pain management. The CRIs from the students in the first or second clinical practicum courses dealt with their inadequacies and clumsiness with new clinical skills such as dressing change, blood pressure monitoring, and admitting patients. Three students wrote about clinical incidents in which they did not seek assistance from either the staff or the faculty in encountering new procedures or nursing care of patients with unusual problems, resulting in dissatisfaction with their practice. The students at advanced levels (in the senior level courses) wrote about clinical incidents in which coordination in dealing with complex situations, vigilance, and multi-tasking were the major issues. Two clinical scripts were about the students’ involvement in an efficient handling of emergency situations by RNs and other health-care professionals, allowing them to observe exemplary practice. D. Ethical issues. Two incidences in these CRIs focused on ethical issues. One incident dealt with the use of placebo for pain in which the student’s questioning lead to an ethical committee deliberation. Another incident dealt with a decision to hospitalize a nursing home patient with depression against her wishes. Both of these incidences were written by RN students who were at a different level of learning than generic students. RN students were often in conflict because they were already practicing nurses and at the same time students. E. Issues arising in the interpersonal relationships with other health-care professionals. Seven of the CRIs dealt with incidents involving problems in working with other health-care professionals including other nurses, physicians, and social workers. The two incidents involving a social worker described the situations in which the students acted as the patient advocates persisting for services, while one incident involving a physician dealt with miscommunication. Four incidents involving other nurses depicted problems of interpersonal competition, conflict, and misunderstanding regarding respective roles. In these incidences the central issue was power. Although these are not in any way representative of students’ encounters of clinical situations, these suggest that students are exposed to various difficulties in clinical learning ranging from competence and skill development to interpersonal relationships. These mirror the reality of clinical situations in which students must learn to become competent, to cope with various situational contingencies, and to be alert to their own as well as others’ practice. These are also the areas identified as the critical components of clinical teaching at the baccalaureate level, i.e., clinical skills development, sensitivity to the individuality of clients, communication competency, interpersonal relationships, and ethics. The area of knowing the patient and patient identity deals with the critical issues associated with the philosophy of individuality and patienthood. Students seem to struggle with how to approach patients who represent various characteristics, and also with their own attitudes, knowledge, and presumptions regarding patient characteristics.
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Reflective Phase The analysis of the reflective statements the students wrote in these CRIs indicates that they were able to discover (a) what guided their actions in general, linking what their thoughts had been in the situations and what the circumstances meant to them, (b) the nature of their attitudes and feelings in the situations such as anxiety, nervousness, fear, biases, and inadequacy, and (c) their own deficiencies in relation to knowledge, different modes of interventions or approaches, and competence. This meant that these students were able to reflect on what has happened in the clinical situations in terms of actions, thoughts, feelings, responses, and meanings of these. However, their reflections in general tended to be somewhat superficial and generalizing. They articulated their thoughts in the situations evaluating the meanings of the situations to them such as “I thought the situation was too complex and I was not prepared to take care of this patient,” or “I thought there was more attention to protocol than to the patient.” They were in most cases also able to reflect on what their intentions, goals, or aims were in the situations. However, their intentions were often one-dimensional such as “the patient needed to have pain relief,” or objectively determined from their own perspectives such as “the patient should be able to do own colostomy care” rather than from the patients’ perspectives in terms of their priorities or intentions. In addition, they did not reflect deeply on why they acted the way they did. That is, they were not able to articulate their espoused theories applied in the situations. When the faculty members prompted the students about their espoused theories or their rationale, then they were able to identify them. This demonstrates that their practice was often not systematically thought through to apply nursing process as they were taught. It was the faculty’s role in general to identify the theories-in-use (that is, what actually guided their actions) in these clinical incidences, as the students tended to be apologetic instead of being analytic regarding what guided their actual behaviors (for example, “I was so nervous with doing the dressing change that I did not ask any questions about how the patient felt,” or “I was so concerned with doing my physical assessment and doing the dressing change that I really did not think about the teaching opportunities.”). In their remarks to the students, the faculty members asked them often to delve into theories-in-use and their alignments or misalignments with espoused theories. They tried to shift the students’ focus on excuses for explaining behaviors to in-depth self-examinations regarding the actual causes (or reasons) for behaviors. For example, a faculty member prodded a student for an in-depth examination regarding a situation where both the actions and reflections were problematic. This involved the student being passive in responding to a staff nurse’s insensitive comments about not knowing the proper nursing approach with adolescents with eating disorders. The student attributed her passivity to being powerless in her reflection. The faculty provoked the student to consider other possible reasons for her passivity such as lacking comprehensive knowledge or not knowing specific strategies to aid eating. The students were most articulate in reflecting upon their own feelings in the situations, such as “felt anxious because I did not know what to do with myself,” “felt frustrated because I was not in control of the interaction,” “felt frustrated with how the patient behaved,” “felt frustrated because it was not going well,” “felt useless,” “was afraid that I would make a mistake and kill the patient,” “upset with myself as I was not doing enough for the patient,” “felt nervous and froze,” “felt scared and apprehensive,” and “felt nervous because it was the first time…” Most of their feelings were associated with their reactions to the situations, or with how they acted or performed, rather than regarding others’ (including patients’) actions. They often reflected on how such feelings influenced their actions and their responses to the situations.
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Their reflections regarding their own deficiencies tended to be general, expressing a lack of overall competence or recognizing their incompetence in observing the staff’s or faculty’s work.
Critical Phase The students were able to critique their lack of knowledge, areas of incompetence, and their biases in attitudes. They were able to articulate the need for attitudinal changes, needs for preparation for clinical encounters, learning from mistakes, and the need for competence building. However, it was the faculty’s role in general to point out strategies to change their behaviors and the sorts of additional knowledge that would be needed in similar situations. Because the students were not able to detect omissions or missed opportunities, such as not assessing or attending to all of the data associated with their patients, not listening beyond what were actually said by the patients, or realizing there could be other approaches, their critiques contained very little regarding specific approaches to fill such gaps. An exception to this was several students’ critique regarding their preoccupation with main tasks at hand and the consequent neglect regarding patient teaching and patient assessment in various nursing care situations. The following describes specific points of critique in different types of CRIs: A. Client–nurse interaction and communication issues. Because the students in these instances mostly felt that they were lacking competent communication skills, their critiques focused on the sorts of skills they needed to gain, such as therapeutic communication, listening, and asking questions. They also identified the role of sensitivity and individual considerations as the pivotal aspects in client–nurse interactions. B. Issues related to knowing the patient or patient identity. As the clinical situations for this category were associated mostly with the students’ preconceptions and attitudes regarding patients and patient identity, their critiques focused on awakening to new insights regarding biases and stereotyping. The students in experiencing the situations were aware of their biases and of the need for change. Such experiences awakened or heightened their orientation to the philosophy of individuality, and gave them insights to be ready to change. However, the students were not able to address the deep roots of prejudices and stereotyping, and tended to be naïve about changing their attitudes. Hence, they were not able to articulate methods through which they could change their attitudes or preconceptions. This is where they needed the faculty’s input. C. Nursing care issues. In their critiques regarding their performance of nursing care the students realized the role of experience in developing competence. They were awed by the experienced nurses’ and faculty members’ expertise. They understood the incremental nature of skill development, and were able to view mistakes as the windows of opportunity for improvement. In addition, they were able to articulate the need to move away from the task and medical orientations to a more comprehensive orientation to address their patients’ various needs including teaching, understanding of the person as a whole, and emotional responses. The major ways to gain competence in nursing care identified by the students and supplemented by the faculty members were skill development, preparatory work, and vigilance regarding own performance. Multi-tasking was identified as the major problem they needed to master in practice. D. Ethical issues. Although the two clinical situations in which ethical decision making was at issue, resolved into favorable conclusions with the students’ proactive work; the students were not able to debate further regarding relativism in ethical decision making, which was at the core. By becoming content with their achievements, these
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students were not able to critique the influence of various forces that impinge on ethical decision-making, remaining dualistic and naïve about the power of assertiveness. E. Issues arising in the interpersonal relationships with other health-care professionals. Since patient care is delivered in a multi-disciplinary context within which nurses play a pivotal role, students must learn to work effectively and collaboratively with other health-care professionals. Power, competition, and conflict are often the sources of misunderstanding and of the breakdown in collaboration. The examples in these CRIs reflect this. The major points of critique were an understanding of other’s perspective and developing communication skills focusing on assertiveness. However, there also was a sense of resignation in these critiques. Lacking in these critiques were insights into the nature of pro-collaborative work and ways to deal fundamentally with the issues of interpersonal power, competition and conflict.
Discussion and Implications for Nursing Education In the preceding sections, we presented materials detailing the process of implementing CRI as a method of clinical teaching, and our analyses of the contents of a set of students’ CRIs. As a form of clinical teaching, the application of CRI provided unique opportunities for students to use their experiences as the basis for additional learning. Students in general learn to develop competence in nursing in clinical practicum courses, by encountering patients and varied clinical situations, performing new and learned nursing skills, observing others give care, and applying knowledge and attitudes in actual situations. Our implementation to adopt CRI as an additional tool in clinical teaching was based on the assumption that it provided opportunities to students to (a) use their own experiences to learn further through reflection and critique and (b) be trained in self-examination in practice. Our aim was for students to become more able to learn from their own experiences and be able to use their experiences as building blocks for developing their practice through the use of CRI. Throughout its implementation at the College, students were able to carry out CRI continuously from one course to the next, and the faculty members found that they were able to dialogue with students based on each student’s experiences. Although this paper does not address specific evaluations regarding the use of CRI as a teaching method in clinical practicum courses, continuing use of this in practice would lead students to become reflective practitioner in Schön’s sense. However, whether or not our students had experienced transformation by engaging in CRI as found in the study by Glaze (2001) was not examined in our study. Thus, it is not possible to state whether this cohort of students who practiced CRI learned nursing practice differently in contrast to those in the previous cohorts who were not required to practice CRI. Nor is it possible for us to determine the level of reflective competency of our students as they went through the curriculum, as found in the study by Liimatainen and colleagues (2001). But, the faculty’s general impression of the effects of CRI application in clinical teaching was positive. The analysis of the contents of the sampled CRIs provides us with an idea about the nature of problems in practice that are troublesome to students. The five categories were identified: (a) client–nurse interaction issues, (b) issues in knowing of patients, (c) nursing care issues, (d) ethical issues, and (e) interpersonal interaction issues. These categories suggest how nursing education may need to thematize its contents for developing clinical competence. These categories point to the multidimensional nature of nursing practice which nurses must be concerned with: (a) how to communicate with patients, (b) how individual patients should be understood and approached, (c) how nursing care should be delivered to patients, (d) what should be valued and upheld to protect patients and the integrity of practice, and (e) how interdisciplinary coordination must be accomplished.
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Clinical practicum courses place students in clinical situations of varying complexities requiring them to respond to and act upon the situational demands with knowledge, skills, attitudes, and values for effective outcomes. These findings suggest that clinical assignments the faculty members select for students should not be oriented only to nursing care issues but also to other areas of practice such as communication, disenfranchised patients, ethics, and interprofessional relationships. Smith (1998) reported nine categories of critical incidents identified by undergraduate students over a period of 3€years as: (a) learning about oneself, (b) acting professionally, (c) nursing action, (d) dealing with death and dying, (e) emotional reactions, (f) coping mechanisms of students, (g) organization of care, (h) relationships with medical staff, and (i) ways of learning. Although two categories from this list were also identified in our study, our students seemed to be more oriented to nursing care issues rather than their own learning issues (such as acting professionally, coping mechanisms, and ways of learning) found in the Smith’s study. Our students’ concerns regarding their own emotional reactions were intimately linked to the specific nature of clinical situations rather than being generally independent of clinical situations. Our categories are also different from those found in the study of RNs engaged in reflection by Gustafsson and Fagerberg (2004) in which the nurses talked about nursing care situations involving ethical considerations, requiring courage, and applying one’s imagination. These categories by RNs seem to be relevant to being effective practitioners whereas the categories in our students’ reports point to the areas for learning needs. As suggested earlier, the five categories found in our study are well aligned with the critical areas of clinical education in nursing, and need to be incorporated in the preparation and supervision of students in clinical learning. Major implications for nursing education are those related to the process of application and the role of faculty. Clinical education is a critical component within nursing education, placing students in actual situations that contain various contingencies and unique characteristics. By getting engaged in such situations, students learn to respond and deal effectively with individual cases. The application of CRI offers opportunities for students to view each clinical encounter as a learning occasion with its complexity, and makes the referential base of their knowledge meaningful and rich (Kim 2000). The process of applying CRI involves teaching students regarding how to be accurate and comprehensive in clinical scripting, what are involved in good techniques of reflection, and what must be considered in carrying out self-critique. Preparation of students for the application may need to be additive throughout the curriculum as was done in our program, requiring a constant dialogue among faculty members teaching different components within a program. It is also critical to have a uniform set of guidelines and procedures throughout the curriculum. The role of faculty in instituting CRI is paramount and critical. Faculty members are at the core of learning in CRI as they act as interventionists providing feedback regarding scripting, reflections and critique. This is critical because students often are limited in their reflections and critique due to the lack of ideas that are based on experience, expertise and knowledge. As stated by Wallace (1996), it is also important to define the responsibilities of the faculty exactly in this application. The preparation of the faculty is critical for a successful implementation of programs such as this in which the faculty members play an active role. At our College we required all part-time faculty to be involved in the faculty workshops for preparation. However, because of the turnover of the clinical faculty and late appointments it was often necessary for the lead faculty to assume the responsibilities of orienting and preparing new faculty members for the use of CRI at the beginning of semesters. One of the decisions our faculty made in relation to the application of CRI was NOT to use the quality or nature of students’ CRIs as a part of the grades for clinical courses, and use them only to enhance learning for students through their experiences. Only requirement associated with CRIs for grading was submission of specified numbers of CRIs during the
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semester. The faculty members in each course decided on the number of required CRI submissions as a part of course requirement in the same way as we required students to submit patient-care plans and case studies. This allowed students and faculty to dialogue freely regarding deficiencies in reflections and critiques. The faculty’s role was to provide feedback and probe students in order for them to become increasingly competent in self-examination in practice and point them to new knowledge and techniques. Since CRI is not a normal mode of work used in our everyday practice, we also recommended faculty members to practice CRI in their own experiences, especially, in those which are associated with teaching such as working with problematic students. Nicholl and Higgins (2004) found in their study of teachers’ experiences with reflective practice that teachers needed to be prepared to teach reflective practice and to be skillful in helping and supporting students in the process. These findings support our position that the faculty needs to be well prepared in the concepts of reflective practice and the process of CRI. The findings from this study have to be viewed to be somewhat biased, since this sample of CRIs were selected by the faculty members because they were thought to be exemplary. Therefore, they are not representative of the CRIs the students submitted during the year. However, we believe they revealed the aspects of practice the students were struggling with and what their thoughts were of their practice. Therefore, the five categories identified in our analysis of CRIs should be the guides to faculty members in selecting clinical assignments so that students would be placed in a variety of clinical experiences. There is a need to examine further the impact of CRI or other reflective process in clinical teaching. However, our experiences indicate that students are able to carry out this process and engage in an additional learning mode in clinical experiences.
References Argyris, C., Putnam, R., & Smith, D. M. (1985). Action science. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Argyris, C., & Schön, D. (1974). Theory in practice. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Atkins, S., & Murphy, K. (1993). Reflection: A review of the literature. Journal of Advanced Nursing, 18, 1188–1192. Benner, P., Tanner, C., & Chesla, C. (1996). Expertise in nursing practice: Caring, clinical judgment and ethics. New York: Springer. Burton, A. J. (2000). Reflection: Nursing’s practice and education panacea? Journal of Advanced Nursing, 31, 1009–1017. Clarke, M. (1986). Action and reflection: Practice and theory in nursing. Journal of Advanced Nursing, 11, 3–11. Eraut, M. (1994). Developing professional knowledge and competence. London: Falmer Press. Freire, P. (1972). Pedagogy of the oppressed. New York: Continuum. Glaze, J. E. (2001). Reflection as a transforming process: Student advanced nurse practitioners’ experiences of developing reflective skills as part of an MSc programme. Journal of Advanced Nursing, 34, 639–647. Gustafsson, C., & Fagerberg, I. (2004). Reflection, the way to professional development? Journal of Clinical Nursing, 13, 271–280. Habermas, J. (1971). Knowledge and human interests (J. J. Shapiro, Trans.). Boston: Beacon Press. Kim, H. S. (1999). Critical reflective inquiry for knowledge development in nursing practice. Journal of Advanced Nursing, 29, 1205–1212. Kim, H. S. (2000). The nature of theoretical thinking in nursing (Revised ed.). New York: Springer. Liimatainen, L., Poskiparta, M., Karhila, P., & Sjögren, A. (2001). The development of reflective learning in the context of health counseling and health promotion during nurse education. Journal of Advanced Nursing, 34, 648–658. Mountford, B., & Rogers, L. (1999). Using individual and group reflection in and on assessment as a tool for effective learning. Journal of Advanced Nursing, 24, 1127–1134. Newell, R. (1994). Reflection: Art, science or pseudo-science. Nurse Eduction Today, 14, 79–81. Nicholl, H., & Higgins, A. (2004). Reflection in preregistration nursing curricula. Journal of Advanced Nursing, 46, 578–585.
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H.S. Kim et€al. Peden-McAlpine, C., Tomlinson, P. S., Forneris, S. G., Genck, G., & Meiers, S. J. (2005). Evaluation of a reflective practice intervention to enhance family care. Journal of Advanced Nursing, 49, 494–501. Schön, D. A. (1983). The reflective practitioner: How professionals think in action. New York: Basic Books. Schön, D. A. (1991). The reflective practitioner (2nd ed.). San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Smith, A. (1998). Learning about reflection. Journal of Advanced Nursing, 28, 891–898. United Kingdom Central Council for Nursing, Midwifery and Health Visiting (UKCC). (1986). Project 2000: A new preparation for practice. London: UKCC. United Kingdom Central Council for Nursing, Midwifery and Health Visiting (UKCC). (1990). The report of the post-registration education and practice project. London: UKCC. Wallace, D. (1996). Experiential learning and critical thinking in nursing. Nursing Standard, 10(31), 43–47.
Chapter 9
Reflective Inquiry in Social Work Education Marian Murphy, Maria Dempsey, and Carmel Halton
Introduction Social workers in many countries work in a changing and often perplexing climate of practice, where professional activity is challenged and monitored. Many of them work in statutory organisations which are increasingly bureaucratic, where practice protocols, developed to enhance and systematise practice, may have the unwanted effects of curtailing creativity and contributing to disillusionment and burnout. The corporate imperatives of value for money, coupled with inadequate resources for supportive services for many of their client groups can leave social workers struggling to cope with the demands placed on them. One of the central preoccupations in contemporary social work literature and practice is the perceived assault on professional identity by managerialist and technicist approaches to practice. Such procedure-led approaches to practice, frequently arising after media inquiry into tragic deaths of children, contribute to a climate where professional activity is challenged and monitored (Healy 2005). In the UK, in particular, such reports and inquiries have vilified individual practitioners, rather than addressing the organisational systems and policy frameworks within which they work. This, in turn, has engendered an approach to the work that emphasises defensive practice, which at times seems to value adherence to practice protocols at the expense of professional creativity. Gregory and Holloway, writing in the context of teaching social policy to social work students suggest that: “a narrow focus on current policy and implementation procedures without social, economic, philosophical and historical contextualisation, produces a practitioner with the knowledge to follow procedure but not the critical awareness that sees when the service outcomes are at odds with the policy objectives, or who fails to understand how to infuse the policy framework with professional values” (Gregory and Holloway 2005, pp. 618–619). Saltiel (2003) noted that a theme emerging from his research with social work practitioners was, the importance for social workers, of being able to exercise autonomous judgement rather than acting in accordance with management imperatives. “The tension between this managerialism on the one hand and, on the other, the practitioners’ skills of flexibility and creativity whereby new knowledge for practice was being created, seemed to me to be at the heart of practice” (p. 109).
M. Murphyâ•› Applied Social Studies, University College Cork, Cork, Ireland e-mail:
[email protected] N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_9, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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This tension between professionalism and bureaucratisation in agencies has given a new impetus for reflection in social work education.
Reflection as an Antidote to Managerialism in Social Work Winter et€al. (1999) suggest that reflective practice may provide a means of redressing the devaluation, deskilling and alienation now suffered by the caring professions: “The late 1980s saw professional staff beginning to experience a sense of having their autonomy reduced, their decision making mechanised, their expertise fragmented and their artistry abolished – the reflective paradigm assembles its theoretical resources in order to defend professional values, creativity, and autonomy in a context where they are generally felt to be under attack from political and economic forces which threaten to transform the professional from an artist into an operative” (Winter et€al. 1999, p. 193).
Fook suggests that in a managerialist culture, there is a greater need “for the articulation of professional skills and knowledge, as well as for accountability, and for research and development of the practice of professional practitioners” (Fook 1999, p. 206). Fook proposes critical reflection as a means by which practitioners can do this. Baldwin (2004), p. 14 notes that reflection becomes critical when it has the ability to construct and reconstruct practice knowledge in a way that allows a practitioner to recognise and avoid using ineffective or discriminatory approaches with service users. Redmond (2006) proposes that the concept of reflective learning has attempted to address the issue of professionals’ responsiveness to service users. She suggests that “with its emphasis on academic rigour and job-related competencies, professional education tends to produce practitioners who may be theoretically or technically skilled but who have not learned to understand and incorporate the service user’s unique perspective into the professional response” (2006, p. 1). Redmond goes on to point out that reflection encourages professionals to look beyond technical competencies, thus enabling them to place the relationship with the service user at the centre of professional activity.
History of Reflection in Social Work Reflection in Social Work Education The confluence of factors described above has led to an increasing interest by social work educators and practitioners in reflective practice and in education for reflection. Rai (2007) suggests that “reflective practice in all but name has been a cornerstone of social work education since its early psychotherapeutic roots, in which an understanding and use of self were integral to practice learning” (p. 787). However, the emergence of explicit reference to reflective teaching and learning in social work education in the mid 1990s gave rise to debates on the tensions between structuralist and psycho-social approaches to social work, with reflection being associated with the latter. There has by no means been an uncritical acceptance of the importance of reflection in social work education by the totality of the social work community. One of the most searing critiques of reflection has come from the radical/structural strand of academic authors. Their contention is that the focus on individual reflection takes from the emphasis within social work education on issues of human justice and radical action. From this perspective, what is seen as an over emphasis on “interior individualistic humanistic processes’ is considered to act against social workers” concern with exterior social and political processes (Knott 2007, p. 10).
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Evidence Based Practice: A Challenge to Reflection Another challenge to the incorporation of reflection into social work education has come from the proponents of evidence-based practice. Evidence-based practice relies on rational knowledge which has been tested through scientific methods. In Schön’s (1983) language, this is technical/rational knowledge, a top-down approach to theory development and its application. The impetus towards modern evidence-based practice in social work has come increasingly from the health and criminal justice arenas. As multi-professional work is now strongly advocated in many social work settings, it is seen as important that social work graduates emerge with a recognition and appreciation of the perspectives from which colleagues in these other disciplines may be operating. Employing organisations also require social workers to articulate the effectiveness of proposed interventions based on empirical research. Healy suggests that in their most extreme forms, reflection and evidence-based practice can be posited as being in direct opposition to each other, as they foster entirely different ways of developing and using theory in practice (Healy 2005).
The Competency Debate and Reflection This competency-led drive from employing organisations is supported in some academic institutions by the competency-based approach to training and education. Gregory and Holloway (2005), p. 619 describe this competency movement as having its roots in the post-war behaviourist tradition, but really gaining ascendancy within employing organisations in the UK in the 1980s. They consider that this outcome – focused model, which uses competency as a measure of assessment, appears set to influence social work education for some time to come. It is reinforced by an educational organisational model which is run by consortia, groupings of employers and colleges, where the focus of the outcomes is strongly influenced by the employers’ agenda. While this model is unique to the UK, its influence has percolated the international social work environment, to varying degrees in different countries. Gould and Taylor (1996) suggest that a weakness of the competencybased approach to practice learning lies in the risk that its functionalist underpinnings will result in a checklist approach to assessment, in which the student’s learning is measured against a template of defined tasks and performance indicators, which may be ticked off in a superficial way. Brookfield (1987) proposes that the challenge for social work educators in this environment is to develop students’ abilities as critical thinkers who will be able to use their knowledge reflectively, and to develop a deep approach to learning in which their intention is not just to meet minimum requirements. Learning about practice takes place “within the context of use” (Eraut 1994, p. 33) which involves a complex process of interpretation, modification of existing knowledge and paradigms in order to get to grips with the messy situations encountered in real life. As England commented “The real test of a worker’s learning is never in his (sic) ability to show mastery of abstract knowledge but in the way such knowledge is plundered and fragmented to inform his practice” (1986), p. 35. Clarke, supporting reflective engagement stated, “The criticism of everyday practice must be that it is not so much right or wrong, but uncritically performed by unknowledgeable practitioners. The outcomes for today may be more or less satisfactory, but they contribute nothing to understanding for the future” (1995), p. 577. It is possible to perceive the competency approach and reflection in social work as dichotomous. A more wholistic perspective sees reflective teaching and learning as providing a framework and support process or as Schon refers to “a practicum” (1987) for the exploration and development of competencies.
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In Support of Reflection in Social Work These critiques have failed to acknowledge, however, that reflective inquiry, depending on how it is scaffolded, can actually facilitate students and practitioners to make use of knowledge and empirical studies from the social sciences. Reflective teaching and learning requires practitioners to consider the evidence for their decision-making, and students are forced to present evidence for assertions they make in relation to their own learning. As Thompson puts it: “the reflective practitioner is a worker who is able to use experience and theoretical perspectives to guide and inform practice. Reflective practice involves being able to apply theory to practice, drawing on existing frameworks of ideas and knowledge so that you do not have to reinvent the wheel for each new situation as it arises but also being aware of ‘ready made solutions’” (Thompson 2002, p. 222). Theory in social work is often equated with the application of specific technical skills based on knowledge. Thompson (1995) believes this is because social workers primarily hold a positivist, scientific view of knowledge that distances the knower from knowledge creation. Barbour’s research with social work students (1984) found that the majority of them saw social work as a practical, problem solving activity. Consequently, they came to social work education seeking technical knowledge. Pilalis (1986) challenges this view of social work. “These assumptions do not accurately reflect the context-bound, ideological and subjective aspect of both social work action and the theories which contribute to that action. Nor do they acknowledge that some theories are developed inductively from practice” (1986, p. 91). Pilalis asserts there can be no theory without practice. However, she accepts that practitioners are not always consciously conscious of the theory that informs their practice. Thompson also stresses the importance for social workers of bringing to awareness the conceptual frameworks that inform their practice. “If we do not recognise that frameworks of ideas and values are influencing how we act and interact, we are not in a position to question those ideas and ensure they are appropriate and constructive” (Thompson 1995, p. 29). Knowledge for social work practice is derived from a number of related sources which include research, professional values and ethics, legislation, agency policies and procedures, personal values and political and contextual issues. One of the exciting possibilities of reflective practice is the opportunity it provides for practitioners to move from practice to theory and for the excavation and articulation of theory and knowledge that is embedded in their practice. It helps to make explicit the knowledge, values and assumptions that are implicit in their practice. If we are to accept the assertion that there is no theory-less practice in social work, as in other professions, then the challenge for educators and practice teachers is to facilitate a process of reflective engagement, of thinking upon and in practice, of uncovering the otherwise hidden and unconscious processes underlying social work practice. As social work students on professional courses spend half of their student contact hours on fieldwork placements, practice teachers have to become partners in the educational endeavour, helping to facilitate and support reflective engagement of these students while on placement. As no two practice situations are the same, students must be helped to engage in situations that are frequently complex, variable, multifaceted, and unique. They must be facilitated to think on their feet in the immediacy of practice situations and to draw upon the many and variable sources of knowledge. Reflective engagement promotes flexibility that encourages workers to respond reflexively to the challenges of practice. “A practitioner’s repertoire includes the whole of his (sic) experience in so far as it is accessible to him for understanding and action” (Schön 1983, p. 138). For Schön, reflection in action promotes “on the spot surfacing, criticising, and testing of intuitive understandings of experienced phenomena” (1983, pp. 241–242). Reflective engagement helps workers to respond to the complexity and uniqueness of each social work encounter, to reposition practice at the heart of the social work endeavour and to move away from an over reliance
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on more positivist views of knowledge. There will be times when students and practitioners will be required to acknowledge the limitations of their knowledge and to respond appropriately. In the immediacy of practice situations, reflection facilitates practitioners to draw from their previous practice experience and to apply that which is relevant to new and unfamiliar practice situations i.e. to become reflective practitioners. In spite of the strong push, therefore, for a black and white, tick-the-box approach to social work education, reflective teaching and learning has gained increased ground over the last 10 years. Currently, the incorporation of reflection into social work programmes is a requirement for course accreditation in many countries (e.g., Rai 2007). Horner (2004) in exploring the question “What is social work?” considers reflection to be central to good social work practice. Redmond (2006) points out that even prior to the first publication of her book on reflection in health and social services, the “term reflection had become ubiquitous in much of the professional literature relating to health and social services” (p. x). However, despite the incorporation of many of the above ideas into current social work education, it must be acknowledged that reflective engagement runs counter cultural to the more technical–rational approaches to practice that have risen in popularity and that are supported by increased bureaucratic structures within social work. These structures are designed to minimise risk and to manage the many uncertainties of social work practice. A real challenge facing social work educators relates to the difficulties of promoting reflective engagement between social work students and practitioners, when the necessary conditions for reflective engagement between the student and practitioner and between the university and the workplace do not prevail. Creating a safe and trusting learning environment is integral to the success of the endeavour.
Scaffolding Reflective Learning Dewey’s work (1933) draws attention to the importance of scaffolding reflective learning. He emphasises the conditions required for reflective engagement such as open-mindedness, whole heartedness and responsibility. He suggests that in the absence of these conditions it is unlikely that a student will be encouraged to engage in the reflective process. Attitudes of mind are another critical determinant for reflective engagement. It is only when practitioners inquire into their own practice from a position of uncertainty and doubt that reflection occurs (Dewey 1933). In accordance with this view, reflection involves a process of searching to resolve doubt and to deal with practice uncertainty. Supporting this process of reflective engagement, Schön states “When a practitioner does not reflect on his own inquiry, he keeps his intuitive understandings tacit and is inattentive to the limits of his scope of reflective attention” (1983, p. 282). In developing reflective educational environments for social work students, it is recognised that the organisational contexts of the university and of social work agencies play an integral role in encouraging or discouraging reflective engagement. It is important to acknowledge the interdependence between the student, college tutor and practice teacher throughout the educational endeavour.
Developing a Learning Community Steve Seidel suggests that a useful framework for approaching reflective learning is one which involves the learner in looking backward, looking inward, looking outward and looking forward (Siedel and Blythe 1996). Using this framework, a number of locations
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and tools have been developed in social work education which explicitly aim to develop students’ reflective learning abilities. The starting point for using these tools is ensuring that the learning environment in the classroom constructs a true “community of learners.” A key feature of constructing this type of learning environment is the negotiation of learning needs and requirements. In this context, the facilitator is a supporter and collaborator with the learners in the learning process. A community of learners thus emerges where goals become shared, and reflection on learning challenges everyone progressively. The process of understanding and making sense of oneself in particular situations of social work practice is the constant challenge. It involves both interpretation and application within particular contexts of practice, which are increasingly complex. However, as Usher suggests: This application is not that of the technical–rationality model but rather an appropriation to oneself – one can only make “sense” in terms of one’s perspective, framework or paradigm (Usher 1989, p. 79).
This approach to teaching and learning places demands on the teacher and facilitator to move from a position of being the “expert” knowledge provider, to being a facilitator of the co-construction of meaning and knowledge with students. This requires an openness to self-disclosure, a willingness to engage in critical exploration of the facilitator’s own prejudices, values and behaviours, and continued development of genuineness, congruence, active listening and empathy on the part of the facilitator. For staff, being part of a developmental, multi-professional reflective learning network can provide essential support in developing this work with students. An important part of this process may be the construction of staff teaching portfolios. Usher points out that all learners are influenced by culture and history, by a “tradition” which is a combination of societal, professional, institutional and informal influences. A practicum provides a forum for the interrogation of the effects of these influences on actions and thus on social work practices. In the context of this interactive approach to teaching and learning, knowledge must be reformulated in the light of new perceptions and is therefore constantly changing. Paradigmatic shifts thereby go hand in hand with behavioural changes. Receiving feedback from both peers and facilitator means that increasing clarity about the outcomes of behaviour becomes possible. In this respect, the practicum is located at the coalface of personal development in the educative process. The capacity to manage the uncertainty arising from the constantly changing complexity of social work practice requires an ability to make conscious choices about action. Reflective learning in the practicum develops this capacity by bringing together the practical situations of practice with relevant theories and facilitating students to identify the personal lens that they bring to both. This approach recognises that social work is a practical activity, which generates knowledge and theoretical understanding of its own practice. The objective is that the circle of action–reflection-inquiry that is developed in the classroom will continue into the practice context and will encourage students to be conscious, proactive and responsive practitioners.
A Forum for Self-reflection A major barrier that can arise during the reflective learning process is a lack of preparation on the part of students for the self-scrutiny that is required. Course selection procedures need to be primed to address this issue. Courses may also need to include a module, which specifically allows students space to process issues that arise in relation to the self. The underpinning value base within social work reinforces the argument for inclusion of such a module. This perspective can be represented as person-centred, inclusive and focused on empowerment. In line with social work’s own ethical code, this perspective places the process of interaction between student/worker and others, whether clients or colleagues, at
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the centre of any consideration of role, tasks and skills. It rejects an approach that is mechanistic, purely task-focused or totally reliant on the exigencies of situation or contextual pressures. Whilst the importance and influence of such pressures is acknowledged and discussed, the view of the social work activity, whether at individual, family, group, community or social action levels, is of an opportunity for the coming together of two or more human beings in a person-to-person encounter. This encounter, at the very least, should not diminish any of the persons involved and, at best, offers opportunities for personal growth, development, problem solving and social change. It does not deny the existence or necessity for conflict and challenge in such encounters but does require that interpersonally respectful behaviour is maintained and promoted. One of the most challenging features of the person-to-person encounter is the demand that it puts on the student/worker to be genuinely and congruently present. This requires a minimal level of self-awareness and self-knowledge which cannot be assumed simply because a student has gained entry to professional education. The self-empowerment of the student/worker is an important component of the ability to work in empowering ways with clients and others. Towards this end, a number of tools that help to scaffold reflective engagement and that acknowledge the interdependence of college and field based learning have been developed. These tools help to bridge the traditional divide between theory and practice, academics and practitioners and between academic and field based learning.
Tools of Reflective Inquiry in Social Work As well as giving attention to the nature and quality of the classroom environment, social work educators have developed and extended a range of exercises that support students and practitioners to negotiate the challenges of reflective inquiry. Some of these include portfolio development, experiential exercises focusing on professional formation, writing of daily logs, learning journals and sharing reflective accounts within peer groups.
Portfolio Building The use of portfolios in social work education has been evolutionary and has been influenced by the seminal work of Lyons who suggests that a portfolio process involves: “the dynamic process of teachers documenting the evidence of their work and growth, gathered and authored by them, through careful reflection, shared with colleagues and students and presented for public discussion and debate about their conceptions of good teaching” (1998, p. vii).
Initially, portfolios in social work were used as a means of bringing academic and field based learning together in a summative assessment format. However, in recent years the use of portfolios has become a more developmental and formative process as well as incorporating summative elements. Students are encouraged to deconstruct practice work on an ongoing basis and in the process, to excavate their underpinning beliefs, values, knowledge and skills, and their influence on decision-making processes. Some students are more capable of engaging in this process than others. Some may exhibit difficulties in writing portfolios, thereby requiring several layers of support and mentoring from academic tutors. The portfolio building process can be experienced as a new way of documenting their learning, which poses challenges for them. In developing portfolios, students are asked to focus on the process of their learning, to speak about their own values, beliefs, ideas and judgements and to write ongoing, developmental,
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unfinished accounts of their thoughts and actions. In essence, they are asked to trust educators, with their personal and professional selves, a process which can be deemed to be counter cultural in traditional academic environs. Rath (2000), p. 155 emphasises the importance of uncovering one’s assumptions, values, and beliefs in promoting self understanding and self development as a professional. She notes: “In order for this introspection to be useful as a professional tool, it must become a disciplinary habit of mind, attended to on an ongoing basis, and linked to action in the professional context.”
It is this disciplined approach to uncovering the interpretive lenses which students and practitioners bring to their work that is developed through scaffolding the portfolio process in a systematic way. This places the portfolio at the centre of the reflective learning process. Supportive structures for this process include as essential components reflective writing, reading, listening and sharing with peers and tutors. The latter provide the mentors and “critical friends” who are necessary to have reflective conversations that span both academic and field based learning. Constructing a learning community between staff and students for facilitating portfolio development, while time consuming, is central to trust building. This can mean struggling to develop a public learning forum where joint learning and development as practitioners becomes the focus of serious, sustained conversation. Freidus (2001) refers to this process as “enculturation of students into the discourse of reflective teaching/ learning.” She goes on to suggest that facilitating students to become competent reflectors on their own practice requires a “relentless pervasiveness” of opportunities for reflection throughout the whole programme. Introducing reflective portfolios requires staff to work collaboratively to support reflective learning for students. This can involve staff learning new ways of responding to and providing feedback to students. Reflective feedback involves fewer statements of judgement and focuses more on posing questions for students in order to prompt reflection. This can pose a challenge in the university context where traditionally, lecturers have been rewarded for their highly individualised teaching and research activities. However, the reflective process, by fostering a deep understanding by students of particular subject areas, can unify staff to achieve the “pervasiveness” discussed by Freidus. The authors’ research with twenty-one students on a professional social work course has demonstrated that these processes are both stimulating and challenging for students. Data was collected from these students at four selected points during the course. These were 4 weeks into the course, midway, end of course and one year after graduation. One of the key findings of this research was that when students had recovered from the initial “thrownness” they experienced at the beginning of the course, they found reflective learning valuable for locating themselves in terms of personal epistemology. As one respondent noted: “Undergrad was about taking info in and reeling it back out. Here, there has been much more of a ‘process’ around learning. To be encouraged to look back on a previous experience and examine what you did, why you did it and what you might do differently or indeed the same in the future has allowed me to learn a great deal” (Halton et€al. 2007). The process of epistemological development is well illustrated through the following vignette. This documents Jennys* experience of being a student on a course which emphasized reflective engagement. Jenny wrote these comments at the end of her first term, just prior to the first placement. Introducing her first portfolio entry, she says: “Since joining this course I have realised that for a large part of my life I have been talking about being a social worker without really, and I mean really, stopping to think and reflect on what it means to me and why I have been saying it. But being part of the course, living in Cork, and sharing information with relative strangers who have become friends, has jolted me into a real and reflective world where hashed out tales of voluntary work won’t wash and only honest reflections will!”
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She goes on to say: “I don’t have as much experience as other members of my class and this worried me at first, but I do have experiences to share from my work and from my life. This course for me is about learning constantly from the classroom to the library, from journal entries to conversations over coffee and pints! I haven’t changed over the last couple of months, but I have become aware, and I believe this awareness can only help me along my path to being both a reflective learner and practitioner.”
In Jenny’s second entry, which is a self evaluation of her own performance in a role play of an interview carried out in the practice skills laboratory, and which she and her class viewed on video, she describes what she did well and named the skills she had demonstrated. She goes on to say: “However, there were many deficits in my approach too, which I noticed on watching the video, were pointed out to me by those in my group and also on reflecting before writing in my learning journal.”
Jenny goes on to identify these deficits and what she might be able to do about them. This was an excellent example of how she made very good use of a number of the locations on the course to progress her learning: the practice skills laboratory, where she carried out her role-play and watched her video; her own group, who functioned as a real learning community for Jenny; and her journal, where she wrote reflectively about these experiences for later discussion with her tutor. Finally, Jenny, at the end of her third entry, where she has discussed a new theoretical approach that she has encountered which could have informed her in dealing with a difficult situation in her previous practice, says: “I hope that this section, as well as the previous two, have gone some way towards demonstrating my attempts to discover and link together my motivations, thoughts and learning. It is indeed a work in progress.”
Jenny’s entries demonstrate a deep, active engagement, not just with the “hows” of good social work practice, but also with the “whys,” at the beginning stages of the course. At a time when students can be preoccupied with yearnings for simple answers, she has a sophisticated grasp of the complexity of professional activity. There is also a realisation, evident in these entries, that Jenny is constructing her own approach to practice and recognising that this is an evolving construction. In reading portfolios, staff can feel extremely privileged to witness the learning and development of students. In a very real and immediate way, staff are participating with students in the construction of their identities as future social workers.
Exercises Focusing on Professional Formation Social work educators make use of a range of experiential exercises to promote reflection in the classroom and on practice placement. Doel and Shardlow, for example, have developed a range of what they term “reflective practice signposts,” practice based – reflection exercises which help students to reflect on the way they “put their practice together” (1998). “Where I come from, what I bring” is adapted from Nakkula and Ravitch (1998) used by the authors as an example of a professional formation exercise. This autobiographical exercise can provide an important starting point in building awareness among students about what influences their day-to-day practice, and the decisions they make about how they carry out their work. It can provide a useful focus for the first part of Siedel and Blythe’s (1996) frame work noted above. Sharing the experience of writing this assignment can also facilitate the development of a public discussion about professional identities in an environment whereby feedback is provided by critical friends.
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Daily Logs/Reflective Journals The authors have been working for some years with social workers who are interested in pursuing continuing professional development through reflective peer learning. Writing daily logs and/or journals can be a useful way of supporting ongoing reflective inquiry for use by individuals and in peers groups in practice situations. These tools provide an introduction to reflective journaling, where participants can be requested to write descriptive accounts of a particular day’s work, and reflections on what they have written. They can be a useful primer for practitioners who wish to go on to develop portfolios of practice learning, but are useful in themselves for practitioners who would find full-scale portfolio development too time consuming. As a participant in a study conducted with practitioners engaged in social work research stated: Central to the portfolio process was the keeping of a diary (journal) where we wrote our thoughts and reflections on the research process and our learning journey as novice researchers of practice. In the journal I wrote down my doubts, thoughts, ideas and feelings as I was going along. I shared some journal entries in class (Halton and Lyons 2007, p. 155).
Making Reflective Inquiry Public A third tool for reflective engagement involves making the writing of daily logs and portfolio entries public through a series of identifiable stages. The stages include reading logs and portfolio entries aloud, sharing them with a critical friend and presenting them in peer groups. These stages can be seen as a series of building blocks or as discrete activities which help in the development of reflective inquiry. Some of the positive effects experienced by practitioners in doing this include gaining peer affirmation, learning from others, practice development and trust building in the learning community. The authors completed an action research project in conjunction with twenty-one Irish hospital based social workers. Data was collected from nine focus groups over a 12 month period (Dempsey et€al. 2008). The study charted the development of practitioners’ understandings of reflection. Engagement with the tools of reflective learning in peer supervision groups led to increased awareness and mindfulness in practice. Two main themes emerging from the data of this study were a heightening consciousness of practitioners’ actions and increased consciousness of their feelings in particular situations. This supports consistent research findings of Lyons (1998), pp. 103–119, Lyons et€al. (2002), pp. 15–23 and Halton and Lyons (2007). Consciousness of Actions In this study, participants described becoming more aware of what they were doing, why they were doing it in certain ways, and that they had certain “styles” of working. They questioned themselves about how they might have approached doing things differently. They became more aware of exactly what they had accomplished in a day, in some cases surprised that they had done so much, in one case surprised because the respondent thought she had done more than she actually did. Respondents’ accounts of this process described a slowing down, a stepping back from immersion in what they were doing, a greater sense of awareness. “I did find it very helpful when I documented my reflections. For the first time I acknowledged environmental factors and how they affect my work and who I am as a social worker. How I feel vulnerable going into particular wards, and how I work differently in different environments.”
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“It had the effect of raising my consciousness of why I do things. It led to me being pretty reflective in supervision. It was a different thought process for me. Documenting it was different, more in-depth. It was a different type of exercise, writing it down. I saw things differently.” “My job is quite task centred. When doing the reflection I saw what I do differently. I come away from a situation thinking differently about something than if I had not reflected.” Consciousness of Feelings in Particular Situations The second major issue that emerged from discussing the writing process was how it made respondents more conscious of their feelings in particular situations. Most found this helpful, giving them explanations for how they responded to certain people and events. “(Writing about) feelings in the context of the daily log gives it a structure and form. People can get weighed down. Format is helpful. Random talking about feelings is not helpful. Reading it helped share negative and positive feelings.”
Nakkula and Ravitch (1998) suggest that it is in the explicit articulation of ordinary, everyday acts in our own practice that we can become aware of the immediacy and pervasiveness of our constant interpreting processes. Without this awareness, we can retreat into routinised ways of approaching our work. Langer’s (1989) research suggested that professional and other workers frequently try to reduce their cognitive activity on the job, and to use minimal cues to guide their actions, efforts that lead to what she calls mindlessness. Mindlessness entails a routine reliance on ideas and perceptions formed from habitual actions. Behaviour based on mindlessness is rigid and rule governed, while that based on mindfulness is rule guided. Mindfulness is not effortful or difficult, Langer contends, but it is dependent on opportunities for reflection on process as well as content, in the work sphere. Mezirow (1991), and other reflective educators, suggest that the opportunity to engage in reflective writing, along with subsequent conversation about these writings with peers, mentors or colleagues, provides a scaffold for the development of our reflective abilities. These processes, as described by the research participants above, can be experienced as transformative. Mezirow (1991) defines this transformative learning “as the process of making new or revised interpretation of the meaning of an experience, which guides subsequent understanding, appreciation, and action” (p. 1).
Assessment One of the key debates in the social work literature on reflective teaching and learning has centred on perceived difficulties with assessment. At a conference in the UK in November 2007, Ghaye posed the questions: “How do we assess reflective accounts, and should we be assessing them in any case?” The debate centres on what is being assessed – process or output – and the perception that the “subjectivity” of assessors places learners at an unfair disadvantage. Ixer (1999) has described these concerns: “Social work has become steeped in demands that students should demonstrate reflection in practice as a learning outcome. The danger this poses to vulnerable learners in the assessment relationship when assessors’ own conceptions of reflection may be poorly formed and may not match those of their students is worryingly likely to compound the imbalance of power between them…until such time as we can state more clearly what it is, we have to accept that there is no theory of reflection that can be adequately assessed” (Ixer p. 513).
Yip (2006) suggests that under appropriate conditions reflection can be constructive and result in self-enhancement. However, he also proposes that under inappropriate conditions,
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it can be highly destructive to a social worker’s self-development. The inappropriate conditions may include such things as an oppressive social environment at work or placement that could include a highly critical supervisor, apathetic colleagues, a demanding working environment, which includes a high workload. Yip also suggests that the development of a trusting relationship with the practice assessor and the supervisor in the workplace is essential for reflection to take place honestly and openly so that learning and professional practices are enhanced. Disclosure of learning needs and practice difficulties, he contends, must not be misused so that the student/worker feels undermined or exploited. Concern with the possible exploitation of students/workers in the assessment of their reflective capacities seems to stem from the erroneous perception that reflection is only about the student looking inwards, “navel gazing” as it has been described, and that any attempt to assess these “subjective” accounts is rife with opportunities for misunderstandings, unclear expectations of assessors, and abuse of power. The other erroneous assumption upon which this view is based, is that reflection is just one of a number of learning outcomes, so that assessment tools have a purely summative purpose. Boud (1999) has suggested that conflating assessment and reflection is unhelpful as there are inherent contradictions in the nature of reflection and the nature of assessment: “Assessment involves putting forward one’s best work …Reflection, on the other hand, is about exploration, understanding, questioning, probing discrepancies and so on. There is always a danger that assessment will obliterate the very practices of reflection which courses aim to promote” (Boud 1999, p. 123). Nevertheless, in spite of these misgivings, Rai’s 2007 research demonstrates that social work education programmes in the UK make widespread use of reflective writing assignments. Rai reports that, despite the fact that all programmes in her survey recognised the need to provide specific guidance on how to adapt to a more reflective style of writing, most programmes identified that students found such writing particularly challenging. This is supported by research in Ireland, where students reported initial difficulties with reflection, having come through previous academic experiences where the use of “I” statements was discouraged (Halton et€al. 2007). One of the exciting features of reflective inquiry for many social work educators has been the discovery of assessment tools, such as the portfolio, which are formative as well as summative, and scaffold the development of students as thinking practitioners. As described above, a different form of engagement is required from educators, where feedback to students becomes more of a mutual inquiry process, rather than definitive statements of judgment by the assessor. The challenge of this for educators is to change their mindset from the summative to a combined formative/summative exchange with students. This approach to assessment is a challenge to traditional practices in academic institutions where the time involved in fully engaging with students in relation to reflective inquiry, is not recognised or rewarded. Interestingly, Rai’s research found that the least difficulty with assessing students’ reflective writing was reported by one programme which not only included an element of reflective writing in most assignments, but also embedded teaching relevant to reflection in the programme (Ibid). Rai suggests that: “For these students ‘reflective writing’ would have been the norm or default genre and there would have been less dissonance between how they were expected to write and the particular discourses into which they were being socialised” (Rai p. 789). Rai’s findings propose that making writing practices explicit involves not only embedding them in the discourses of the programme, but also identifying specific writing conventions and finding ways to articulate them to students and assessors. Social work students struggle with integrating their own stories of practice learning with understandings from theory and research, and social work educators are at an early stage in finding clear and transparent rubrics to provide to students so that both parties can be clear about expectations. Rai claims that her study affirms that reflection has a long and integral relationship with the pedagogy of social work and indeed with many theories of social work practice.
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The impact and implications of assessing reflection through writing, she points out, therefore, are that social work educators will need to clarify what such “reflective writing” should be like and ensure that students and assessors share this understanding (Ibid). The UK Open University, in its social work degree course, has made a good start to this process spelling out clearly course expectations for the close connections required between developing the practice skills associated with reflection and the associated written skills required in reflective writing at each stage of the programme. These are broken down into cognitive processes and gradually built up through the course, each stage being associated with a formative assignment. The primary stages identified are: writing biographically, integrating theory, writing about skills and pulling it all together, in that sequential order. Activities focusing on these areas provide an opportunity for students not only to think about the specific requirements of reflective writing as a distinct genre, but also to practice the writing and thinking skills involved. Rai suggests that further evaluation will be needed to judge whether greater transparency in the teaching and assessment guidelines will lead to greater uniformity of understanding (amongst students and tutors) of the rationale and expectations of reflective writing. There continues to be much work required in this area in social work education. The authors’ experience of incorporating assessment on a variety of social work programmes points to the crucial aspect of staff members’ openness to engaging in processes such as journal writing and creating portfolio entries of their own. As assessment criteria underpinning portfolios are not based on traditional academic concepts of “right or wrong,” but on the ability of the students’ to chart their own learning and development, including “mistakes” and dilemmas they encounter, a different orientation is required from assessors which may be experienced as counter cultural within formal educational settings. Students are asked to focus on the process of their learning, when previously they may have been required to focus on content; they are asked to speak about their own values, beliefs, ideas and judgements while prior to this, their cognitive abilities and their critique of the research may have been prioritized in academic assignments; they are asked to risk showing their mistakes in detail when their only experience of academic assessment may have encouraged them to minimise risk of failure in every possible way; they are asked to write ongoing, developmental, unfinished accounts of their thoughts and actions when their previous experience may have been of writing summative, “polished” pieces; in essence, we are asking them to trust us, as educators, with their personal and professional selves, a trust that has to be earned. As such, assessors need to learn new ways of responding to students’ work such as journal entries, learning incidents and verbal presentations, recognising that traditional ways of providing feedback on assignments fall short of stimulating reflective thinking. Feedback requires staff to pose questions to students in order to prompt reflection. The authors experience of a regular reflective discussion group, facilitated by an external educator, facilitated the ongoing exploration of assessment issues. Lyons (1998), p. 6 notes: “the processes of reflection that come through public, collaborative inquiry paradoxically involve, at the centre, learning about self, about the values one holds for teaching and learning.”
Supports and Obstacles to Reflective Engagement As noted earlier, development of trust is integral to the promotion of reflective inquiry in professional social work education. This challenge translates into practice contexts where reflective practice requires practitioners to seriously engage in inquiring into the risks and uncertainties associated with their practice. Statutory social work settings such as probation and child protection tend to rely on more positivist views of knowledge which attempt to
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minimise risk and uncertainty through the use of extensive procedural and policy protocols. “In such organisational contexts, professional manifestations of social constructivist and hermeneutic epistemological perspectives, relationship-based practice, reflective practice, tolerance of ambiguity, uncertainty and risk-are viewed with scepticism” (Ruch 2005, p. 22). It must be acknowledged that a difference in epistemological orientation between workers and their organisations can cause significant tensions. The constructivist view of knowledge which supports reflective engagement is at variance with positivist approaches to knowledge which have become increasingly popular in social work. Research by Murphy et€ al. (2008) refers to tensions experienced by practitioners as a result of these varying orientations. The challenges and possibilities for the promotion of reflective engagement in the workplace are not just confined to the organisational context. A practitioner’s personal orientation and commitment to reflective practice can also be a significant variable. This research concerned the investigation of the transfer and sustainability of the reflective process from social work education into the work environment. Specifically, the identification of the variables which support or challenge practitioners to continue the ongoing process of reflection in practice contexts was addressed. The study was carried out over a seven year period and tracked graduates from a professional social work education programme in Ireland and on into the work place. Data collected 5 years post qualification highlighted that agency structures are significant in influencing workers continued use of reflection: “Time constraints at work also impact negatively on it [reflective process]. Lack of support, knowledge and awareness of it by managers has a negative impact. Good supervision supports it, as does the willingness of the worker to engage with it.” It was proposed by these social work practitioners that the provision of a safe, supportive supervisory environment is essential for the promotion and support of reflective engagement. The lack of supervisory support, therefore, can be perceived as a further obstacle to reflective engagement in the workplace. Increasingly, with the adoption of a more managerial approach to social work supervision, the more administrative aspects of supervision are taking precedence over the provision of a developmental and supportive supervisory environment: “A primary difficulty in applying these concepts is the pace, volume and intensity of the work within the agency. However, even analyzing these issues in a reflective manner can alleviate the stresses which result from these difficulties. I do not think the concept is openly on the agenda of the [agency] and in the current climate cannot see this changing” (Murphy et€al. 2008). In this study, social workers also identified particular aspects of supervision which support reflective engagement in the workplace. Regularity of supervision was considered essential. While some practitioners specified that this should be provided by an external supervisor, it was the quality of the supervision that was considered the most important factor. While provision of such supervision was seen as a responsibility of management, it was noted that even when the optimal conditions exist for reflective supervision, there needs to be a willingness on the part of the worker to engage fully with the supervisory process. Structural aspects of organisations were highlighted by this same study as being important variables in influencing reflective engagement (Ibid). These include the pace, volume and intensity of the work load and the time constraints that these impose on practitioners’ ability to engage with reflection. As one practitioner commented, “A primary difficulty in applying these concepts is the pace, volume and intensity of the work within the agency. However, even analyzing these issues in a reflective manner can alleviate the stresses which result from these difficulties. I do not think the concept is openly on the agenda of the [agency] and in the current climate cannot see this changing.” Another participant referred to the negative impact of time constraints on reflective engagement, “Time constraints at work also impact negatively. Lack of support, knowledge and awareness of it by managers has a negative impact. Good supervision supports it, as does the willingness of the worker to engage with it.”
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Peer and team support were experienced as countering obstacles to reflective engagement within organizations. This was particularly true for practitioners who had encountered the value of peer support in learning communities during their professional education. Indeed, a significant finding of this research was that 5 years after leaving their professional qualification course, graduates were still able to describe very clearly the process of reflective learning and some still used it as a means to support themselves in their place of work and to improve their work practices. This suggests that using tools such as portfolios and learning journals in a systematic way during professional education is effective in overcoming obstacles to reflective engagement and sustaining it in the workplace.
Conclusion It is clear that the tension between professionalism and bureaucratisation in agencies has given a new impetus for reflective engagement in professional social work education. While obstacles to its use have arisen, both from the academic community and from organisational contexts, emerging research has demonstrated that practitioners find it to be a valuable resource. Although tools for reflection have been developed and refined over the past 10 years, considerable attention still needs to be invested into constructing clear rubrics for assessment that are compatible with identified practice competencies. Furthermore, to promote and extend opportunities for reflective inquiry by social workers, resources need to be focused on building partnerships between educational institutions and practice organisations. These partnerships will be influential in furthering reflective inquiry and in constructing the future identity of the social work profession. * Permission received from Jenny to use her quotations
References Baldwin, M. (2004). Critical reflection: Opportunities and threats to professional learning and service development in social work organisations. In N. Gould & M. Baldwin (Eds.), Social work, Critical reflection and the learning organisation (p. 14). Aldershot: Ashgate. Barbour, R. (1984). Tackling the theory practice dilemma. British Journal of Social Work, 14, 557–577. Boud, D. (1999). Avoiding the traps: Seeking good practice in the use of self assessment and reflection in professional courses. Social Work Education, 18, 121–132 Brookfield, S. D. (1987). Developing critical thinkers. Milton Keynes: Open University Press. Clarke, C. (1995). Competence and discipline in professional formation. British Journal of Social Work, 25, 563–580. Dempsey, M., Murphy, M., & Halton, C. (2008). Introducing Tools of Reflective Learning into Peer Supervision Groups in a Social Work Agency: An Action Research Project. (under review) Dewey, J. (1933). How we think. Boston: D.C. Heath Doel, M., & Shardlow, S. (1998). The new social work practice teaching and learning in practice settings. Aldershot: Ashgate. England, H. (1986). Social work as art: Making sense of good practice. London: Allen and Unwin. Eraut, M. (1994). Developing professional knowledge and competence. London: Falmer Press. Fook, J. (1999). Critical reflectivity in education and practice. In B. Pease & J. Fook (Eds.), Transforming social work practice: Postmodern critical perspectives. London: Routledge. Freidus, H. (2001). Culture and Contexts in Reflective Teacher Education. Paper presented at International Portfolio Conference. Ireland: University College Cork Ghaye, T. (2007). Assessing reflective accounts is increasingly unethical. Paper presented at conference on Assessing Reflective Accounts Birmingham, England Gould, N., & Taylor, I. (1996). Reflective learning for social work. Aldershot: Arena. Gregory, M., & Holloway, M. (2005). The debate as a pedagogic tool in social policy for social work students. Social Work Education, 24(6), 617–637.
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M. Murphy et€al. Halton, C., & Lyons, N. (2007). Educating practitioners for reflective inquiry: The contribution of a portfolio process to new ways of knowing. In C. O’Farrell (Ed.), Teaching portfolio practice in Ireland: A handbook. Dublin: CAPSL. Halton, C., Murphy, M., & Dempsey, M. (2007). Reflective learning in social work education: Researching students’ experiences. Reflective Practice, 8(4), 511–523. Healy, K. (2005). Social work theories in context: Creating frameworks for practice. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Horner, N. (2004). What is social work? Context and perspectives. Exeter: Learning Matters. Ixer, G. (1999). There is no such thing as reflection. British Journal of Social Work, 29(6), 13–27. Knott, C. (2007). Reflective practice revisited. In C. Knott & T. Scragg (Eds.), Reflective practice in social work. UK: Learning Matters. Langer, E. J. (1989). Mindfulness. Reading. Massachussetts: Addison-Wesley. Lyons, N. (1998). With portfolio in hand: Validating the new teacher professionalism. New York: Columbia Press. Lyons, N., Hyland, A., & Ryan, N. (Eds.). (2002). Advancing the scholarship of teaching and learning through a reflective portfolio process: The University College Cork experience. Ireland: University College Cork Mezirow, J. (1991). Transformative dimensions of adult learning. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Murphy, M., Halton, C., & Dempsey, M. (2008). The transfer of reflective engagement from social work education into the workplace: A study of the value of scaffolded reflection. Irish Educational Studies, 27(1), 71–80. Nakkula, M. J., & Ravitch, S. M. (1998). Matters of interpretation: Reciprocal transformation in therapeutic and developmental relationships with youth. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Pilalis, J. (1986). The integration of theory and practice: A re-examination of paradoxical expectation. British Journal of Social Work, 16(1), 79–96. Rai, L. (2007). Owning (up to) reflective writing in social work education. Social Work Education, 25(8), 785–797. Rath, A. (2000). Reflective practice: Mapping a pedagogy for transformation. In A. Hyland (Ed.), Multiple intelligences curriculum and assessment project. Cork: Education Department, University College Cork. Redmond, B. (2006). Reflection in action: Developing reflective practice in health and social services. Aldershot: Ashgate. Ruch, G. (2005). Reflective practice in contemporary child-care social work: The role of containment. British Journal of Social Work, 37(4), 659–680. Saltiel, D. (2003). Teaching reflective research and practice on a Post Qualifying Child Care Programme. Social Work Education, 22(1), 105–111. Schon, D. (1983). The reflective practitioner. New York: Basic Books. Schon, D. A. (1987). Educating the reflective practitioner. London: Jossey-Bass. Siedel, S., & Blythe, T. (1996). Reflective practice in the classroom Unpublished article, Project Zero/ Massachusetts Schools Network Thompson, N. (1995). Theory and practice in health and social welfare. Buckingham: Open University Press. Thompson, N. (2002). Understanding social work: Preparing for practice (2nd ed.). Basingstoke: Macmillan. Usher, R. (1989). Locating adult education in the practical. In B. Bright (Ed.), Theory and practice in the study of adult education. The Epistemological Debate. London: Routledge Winter, R., Buck, A., & Sobiechowska, P. (1999). Professional experience and the investigative imagination: The art of reflective writing. London: Routledge. Yip, K. (2006). Self reflection in reflective practice: A note of caution. British Journal Social Work, 36, 777–788.
Chapter 10
Reflective Practice in the Professions: Teaching Cheryl J. Craig
When Donald Schön (1983) published The Reflective Practitioner: How Professionals Think in Action, he set off a near cottage industry in the professions, making “reflection” and “reflective practice” almost household words. This chapter examines reflective practice in the field of teaching, one of several professions where attention afforded reflection has increased. This review essay traces core ideas relating to reflective practice and summarizes the contemporary research covering a broad range of related topics. After that, an exemplar illuminating how reflective practice has played out within the context of American school reform is elaborated. That analysis gives way to the chapter’s conclusion: a discussion of the ongoing challenges that reflective practice faces and research strands that could be pursued in the future.
Origins of Reflective Practice in the Teaching Profession While Donald Schon recognized that he contributed to reflective practice’s popularity, he, at the same time, also was aware that he was part of a paradigm shift (Kuhn 1962/1996) arising from different intellectual roots. In the following sections, origins of reflective practice are discussed and the contributions of Schön and some of his intellectual ancestors and contemporaries are sketched.
John Dewey The footprint of John Dewey is ever present in the work of Donald Schön and throughout the field of education as it is a rare North American scholar who does not connect his/her intellectual heritage to Dewey. After all, Dewey (1908) was the first American-born scholar to acknowledge teachers as minded professionals and education as experience. Schön’s (1983) definition of reflection-in-action, for example, is steeped in Deweyan philosophy: When someone reflects-in-action, he becomes a researcher in the practice context. … He does not keep means and ends separate, but defines them interactively as he frames a problematic situation.
C. Craigâ•›() Department of Curriculum and Instruction, University of Houston, Houston, TX, USA e-mail:
[email protected] N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_10, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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C.J. Craig He does not separate thinking from doing…. Because experimenting is a kind of action, implementation is built into… inquiry (pp. 68-69)
In Schön’s words, Dewey’s (1938) theory of experience is echoed. Also present is Dewey’s insistence that ends and means should not be cut off from one another and that divisions between thinking and doing are artificially imposed. Attention is additionally paid to the theory–practice relationship. Given that Schön was a Deweyan scholar, Schön gave a fresh look and updated expression to Dewey’s (1910/1933) How We Think.
The German Didaktik While arguably the most prominent, Dewey was not the only scholar to lay the groundwork for reflective practice. In Europe, the long-standing German Didaktik (meaning to teach, to be a teacher, to educate) has roots that trace to seventeenth century pedagogy. Constructed around the triangle of teacher, learner, and content, the Didaktik tradition concerns itself with “reflective teaching, curriculum enactment, and teacher thinking” (Hopmann and Riquarts 2000, p. 4). According to Westbury (2000), “…its focus and ideal is on the role of the teacher in ‘forming’ rather than ‘instructing’ his or her students and, to do this, celebrates the individuality of each teacher as an active, reflective curriculum maker” (p. 27). However, only the Herbartian influence on Dewey’s philosophy of education made its way to North America, which explains the important distinctions between curriculum as understood by “Anglo Saxons” and Didaktik as known throughout continental Europe. Contemporary scholarship on the Didaktik can be found in a 2007 theme issue of the European Educational Research Journal.
Lawrence Stenhouse and the Curriculum Reform Movement in the United Kingdom A second European influence on the growth of reflective practice in the teaching profession arose in the context of Lawrence Stenhouse’s Humanities Curriculum Project in the late 1960s. Stenhouse recognized that the British reform movement had missed the opportunity to engage teachers in theory development and that the oversight had resulted in implementation difficulties. Consequently, Stenhouse initiated the concept of teacher as researcher, an idea closely linked with the action research movement throughout the world. In contrast to top-down views of curriculum, the approach “[gave] teachers, rather than specialist researchers and theorists, responsibility for generating their own expert knowledge” (Elliott 1985, p. 242) and allowed them to “test the feasibility of a curriculum proposal in practice” in a context where “neutrality” and “divergence” from original purposes were protected (Elliott 1976–1977, p. 2).
Joseph Schwab and “The Practical” in the United States While Lawrence Stenhouse is acknowledged for pioneering the teacher as researcher idea in Europe, Joseph Schwab is concurrently credited with focusing unswerving attention on practical inquiry in North America. Schwab’s “practical” (i.e., 1969) centered on how the privileging of theory had adversely affected practice and rendered the curriculum field unable to continue in its present state. Through paying close attention to four commonplaces
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of curriculum – teacher, learner, subject matter and milieu, Schwab became “the first educational theorist to call close attention to the lived experience of children and teachers in classrooms” (Elbaz-Luwisch 2006, p. 359). He, in Eisner’s words, “changed the [curriculum] field forever” (Elliot Eisner, personal communication 2006). For Schwab, educators moving toward “informed and reflective practice” (Schwab 1959/1978, p. 170) were foundational to the enactment of “the practical.” An existing review essay (Craig and Ross 2008) captures how research on the Schwab line unfolded in the years following “the practical.”
Donald Schön and the Reflective Practitioner Series In a trilogy of books, Donald Schön developed an argument for reflection and reflective practice, one that resonated particularly well with the teaching profession. He aptly captured the crisis of confidence that had evolved due to a lack of stable scientific knowledge bases and the failure of instrumental problem solving to deal with the society’s heightened complexities. Schön proposed reflection-in-action as an alternative to the dominant epistemology of technical rationalism. Reflection-in-action would blur distinctions between meaning and doing, making practical knowledge indispensable to professions such as teaching. In reflection-in-action, teachers would approach the problems of practice as unique cases, drawing on relevant prior experiences and attending to emergent situations. In the dynamic process, reflective conversations would occur where “the unique and uncertain situation can be understood through the intent to change it, and changed through the attempt to understand it” (Schön 1983, p. 132). At the same time as the teacher realizes that thinking and doing are continuously interwoven, he/she understands the fact that the situation “may foil his[/her] projects” (p. 164). Still, he/she, as a professional educator, remains open to the situation’s back talk. Generative metaphors, to Schön, advance reflective practice through employing the “seeing-as” concept, which helps to elucidate the subtle nuances of human meaning. Thus, for Schön, like Kuhn, “thinking with exemplars” is pivotal to understanding complex situations. This explains why an exemplar of one teacher’s professional development experiences over a decade accompanies this literature review. Through reflective inquiry, the exemplar helps the readers think about the complexities surrounding teachers’ attempts at being reflective practitioners in the contexts within which they work. As suggested, Schön’s conception of reflection-in-action not only refers to the manner in which teachers engage in professional development, it also is a teaching approach that pays keen attention to the insider-view of experience. It furthermore implies a “partnership of practitioner-researchers and researcher-practitioners.” Needless to say, the reflective stance challenges inherent conservatism in education. Schön’s books furthermore provide a blueprint for educating teachers. That blueprint accounts for “the indeterminate zones of practice…[which] escape the canon of technical rationality” and highlights the importance of problem setting. To Schön, problem framing, implementation, and improvisation all involve educational artistry. An associated underpinning is the idea that “the student cannot be taught what he[/she] needs to know, but he[/ she] can be coached” (Schön 1987, p. 17, italics in original). Critical to the preparation of the reflective practitioner is the practicum experience in which the roles of coach and student and the protocols to be used are mutually understood. Concurrently, the teacher educator and the teacher candidate grapple with an irreconcilable “paradox of learning a…new competence”: “that a student cannot first understand what he needs to learn, can learn it only by educating himself, and can educate himself only by beginning to do what he does not yet understand” (Schön 1991, p. 93). Also, the practicum would be “a forum of practical knowledge” (Erickson and MacKinnon 1991, p. 18) and
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the capstone of the teacher education experience. The far-reaching outcome would be that the teacher candidates would come to personally know that the learning process is “the practical work…of modification, of changing, of reconstruction continued without end” (Dewey 1974, p. 7, cited in Schön 1987, p. 311).
Review Schön’s research provides one of two important segues into the literature. Two chapters of The Reflective Turn (1991) build on his own work, three chapters are rooted in the action research tradition, and one chapter traces to Schwab’s “practical.” Other chapters have psychoanalytical, psychological, and critical roots. Combined, Schön’s scholarship demonstrates the theoretical and practical plurality in reflective practice and the different ways that practice can be framed and re-framed. The second segue into the literature focuses on studies based on practical knowledge, given that reflective practice falls in that domain. Instructive here is Fenstermacher’s (1994) survey of the literature, which named three leading teacher knowledge programs – that of Munby and Russell, Connelly and Clandinin, and Cochran-Smith and Lytle. Major overlaps between Schön’s and Fenstermacher’s analyses surface. First, there is duplication in the identified researchers. Second, there is repetition in the kinds of literature represented. Third, the continuing scholarship of named researchers can be followed. All three of these points set the parameters of this review essay. Informed by the evidence trail left by Schön’s Reflective Practitioner series and Fenstermacher’s The Knower and the Known essay, a contemporary literature review on reflective practice in the teaching and teacher education field will now be presented. The survey begins with a general discussion of the nature and purposes of reflective practice and then pinpoints the major topics concerning how reflection and reflective practice have developed in the teacher education and teaching literatures.
Introduction to the Nature and Purposes of Reflective Practice in Education The epistemology of reflection and reflective practice has been examined by Lyons (1990), van Manen (1994) and LaBoskey (1994), among the others. Lyons drew attention to the epistemological and moral dimensions of human knowing, van Manen connected practical and reflective modes of knowledge, and LaBoskey probed deeply the meaning of reflective practice and its practical and reflective implications. Lyons (1998b) additionally queried whether reflective practice was developmental, Russell (2005) deliberated whether it could be taught, and Loughran (2002) asked whether it was effective. Focusing on the question, “How do I improve my practice?” Whitehead (2000) worked to create a new epistemology of practice commensurate with Schön’s call. Other pieces of literature further added to the epistemological understandings of reflection practice. Admiraal and Wubbels (2005) have discussed how reflection plays out in different knowledge paradigms, Alerby and Elidottir (2003) urged educators to take silences into account, and Buchmann (1991) has contrasted the epistemology of “making do” with the epistemology of “making new.” Also, Putnam and Borko (2000) have taken the psycho-socialcontextual nature of human knowledge development into account and Elbaz-Luwisch (1991) and Fendler (2003) have probed the historical and political ramifications of reflection. Furthermore, Rodgers (2002) has recommended that unresolved questions arising from
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Dewey’s scholarship need to be addressed, and Eraut (1995) has suggested that Schön’s “reflection-in-action” needs to be reframed.
A Sampling of the Teacher Education Literature Early books on reflective practice in preservice education were authored by Tom (1984), Grimmett and Erickson (1988), and Clift et€al. (1990). A volume edited by Clandinin et€al. (1993) stands out because its authors were practicum students and cooperating teachers in a revamped teacher education program. Volumes authored by Brookfield (1995), Ayers (1995), among the others, appeared later. Titles like “becoming” and “living” signaled the increased emphasis being placed on identity formation. General articles dealing with reflective practice also abound. Dinkelman (2000) centered his discussion on secondary student teachers, Hatton and Smith (1995) focused on the challenges of implementing reflective practice, and Raelin (2002) addressed the issue of teachers not having time to think. Jay and Johnson (2002) worked to create a typology for reflection in teacher education, and Zeichner (1987) provided an overview of strategies that assist in the preparation of reflective teachers. The Cultivation and Scaffolding of Reflective Practice Cultivating and scaffolding reflective practice constitutes its own strand within the teacher education literature. Within that strand, reflective inquiry has been explored by Beattie (1997), Bean and Stevens (2002), and Clarke and Erickson (2003). The terms of agreement is what some (Latta et€al. 2007) have called it. Reflective practice additionally has been linked to the practicum experience (Hamlin 2004), the work of professional development schools (Freese 1999), cohort activity (Farr Darling 2000), and associate teachers (Beck and Kosnik 2000). The role of mentor teachers (Orland-Barak 2005a), faculty member participation (Upitis and Russell 1998) and modeling and coaching (Loughran 1996) are also topics that have been taken up. The use of critical incidents to focus and guide reflection has been both a favored (Orland-Barak and Yinon 2005) and debated practice (Clarke 1998). Journals additionally are a key tool for cultivating and scaffolding reflective practice in preservice teacher education literature. Bain et€al. (1999), together with Brinton et€al. (1993), use dialogue journals as a way to chart novice teachers’ growth, particularly during the practicum. Garmon (1998) employs dialogue journals in multicultural teacher education settings, Lally and Veleba (2000) use them in literacy teacher education classrooms, and Cole et€al. (1998) experimented with the use of interactive group journals. Web-based materials (Richert 2007), on-line discussions (Whipp 2003) and blogs and blogging (Stiler and Philleo 2003) are further devices that spur reflection and reflective practice in teacher education. An additional tool that promotes reflective practice in teacher education is the portfolio making of teacher candidates. Nona Lyons’s (1998a) With Portfolio in Hand – with chapters authored by Wolf, Freidus, and Seidel, for example – approaches portfolio development in a wide-range manner. Wolf discusses the creation of a portfolio culture, Freidus describes portfolio mentoring, and Seidel focuses on “ways of seeing.” As for Lyons, she equates portfolio making with the preparation of reflective practitioners. More recently, teacher candidate portfolios have been discussed by Harland (2005), Tillema and Smith (2000), and Orland-Barak (2005b). Harland connected inquiry and portfolio creation, Tillema and Smith examined differential feedback, and Orland-Barak discussed the absence of critical thinking in mentored portfolio entries. Winsor et€ al.
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(1999) questioned whether portfolios can serve their intended purposes while Latta and Field (2005) viewed the flight from experience to representation as problematic. As for Mansvelder-Longayroux et€al. (2007), they centered on the programmatic use of portfolios in The Netherlands, and Zeichner and Wray (2001) assessed how journals are being used as reflective tools in teacher education in the U.S.
Reflection in Teacher Education Programs Promoting reflection and thinking reflectively about teacher education programs also comprises an identifiable vein of the literature. Tom (1997) called for the re-design of teacher education programs, Hoban (2005) developed a conceptually linked framework, and Korthagen et€al. (2006) discussed fundamental principles underpinning teacher education practices. Earlier, Burchell and Westmoreland (1999) connected competency-based teacher education and student teacher reflections. Other aspects of teacher education programs are critical to the development of reflective practice. LaBoskey and Richert (2002) linked the importance of placements to the cultivation of reflectivity in teacher education programs, Kosnik and Beck (2003) captured the significance of reflective community building, and Fong Lee and Loughran (2000) applauded the success of a school-based teacher education program. Olson (2008) chronicled how one teacher education program was revitalized through valuing narrative authority, collaboration and multiple dimensions of diversity, and Freidus (2008) illustrated how progressive ideals were reclaimed within the teacher education program at her institution. Finally, Clift (2004) advocated for the use of self-study as a tool for teacher education program development and improvement, and Ben-Peretz and Ladro-Pardo (2008) argued that teacher education programs too seldom focus on “the psychic rewards of teaching.”
Teacher Education Policy In the teacher education policy arena, Cochran-Smith has led the charge in defending teachers and teacher educators’ rights to generate their own knowledge. Her 2000 essay on the future of teacher education and discerning the questions that matter is illustrative of her contributions. Also, her book (2006a), which is comprised of a collection of her Journal of Teacher Education editorials, is unprecedented in the field.
Teacher Education Research Support for researching reflective practice and research understood as reflective practice also is a recognizable theme that runs through the literature. Ducharme and Ducharme (1996) have built the case for the use of both practical and formal approaches to research in teacher education. As for Copeland et€ al. (1993), they believe teacher education research falls squarely in the domain of reflective practice. In that area, three strands of teacher education research emerge. One is the individual educator writing reflectively about his/her practice, of which the work of Akin (2001) is illustrative. The second is the student teacher working as a teacher researcher, of which Gray and Campbell-Evans’s (2002) article is an exemplar. The third is the selfstudy of teaching and teacher education practices literature, which has its own handbook (Loughran et€ al. 2004) and the Studying Teacher Education journal edited by Loughran and Russell.
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A Sampling of the Teaching Literature As was the case with the teacher education literature, a multitude of volumes that support reflective practice in the field of teaching have been produced. Representative books have been authored by van Manen (1991), for example, and edited by Russell and Munby (1992) and McEwan and Egan (1995). Bullough’s (1989) first-year teacher study and its 8 year followup (Bullough and Baughman 1997) are unique to the field. Barone’s (2001) inquiry into the enduring outcomes of teaching also stands out, as does Shulman’s (2004) Wisdom of Practice, which summarizes his career contributions.
Nature of Teaching For Jackson (1995) and Egan (1995), reflection and reflective practice are organically related to how teachers teach because teaching is fundamentally a narrative act that progresses through layered processes of reflection. As for Weinbaum et€ al. (2004). They employed the inquiry metaphor to unpack teaching and learning and used their understandings as entry points to imagine how student achievement could be improved. From the perspective of teachers, Clandinin (1986) conceptualized teacher images as shaping the contours of practice, and Clandinin and Connelly (1986) examined the rhythms of teaching. Also, Clandinin and Connelly (1995) have used the “professional knowledge landscape” metaphor to situate teachers’ knowledge in the contexts of teaching. Meanwhile, Jackson et€al. (1993) have focused full attention on the moral life of schools, whereas Ball and Wilson (1996) have explored the fusion of the moral and intellectual in teaching in response to Sockett’s (1987) criticism of Shulman’s concept of pedagogical content knowledge. Continuing the nature of teaching theme, Brown et€al. (2007) discussed primary teaching situations, and Estola and Syrjälä (2002) focused more directly on the presence of bodies in the teaching-learning process. As for Grumet (1988), she reflectively addressed gender, while Pinnegar et€al. (2005) discussed teaching as informed by mothering. Finally, Sabbe and Aelterman (2007) contributed a comprehensive literature review on gender and teaching. Concerning the dilemmas, tensions and the problems of teaching, Craig (1995) discussed the dilemmas of crossing boundaries, Huber et€al. (2004) inquired into moments of tension, and Vermunt and Verloop (1999) studied congruence and friction between teaching and learning. As for Lampert (2001), she wrote insightfully about teaching problems and the problems of teaching, and Ball (1993) examined dilemmas specific to the teaching of elementary mathematics.
Teachers’ Lives, Identities, Voices, and Emotions Teachers’ lives, identities, voices, and emotions also form prominent themes at the intersection where teaching and reflective practice meet. Goodson (1992) contributed a major volume on teachers’ lives, and Elbaz-Luwisch (2006) conducted a literature review on the study of teachers’ lives and experiences. Day’s VITAE project in the U.K. comprises the most highly funded investigation examining variations in teachers’ work, lives, and effects on students (Day et€al. 2008). Studies on teacher identity have been conducted by Connelly and Clandinin (1999), Beijaard et€al. (2004), and Zembylas (2003). Also, Nias’s (1993) primary teacher identity and lost self work, along with Walsh et€al.’s (1991) study of one primary teacher changing her mind, bubbles to the surface.
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Teachers’ voices also form a major facet of the reflective teaching literature base. Elbaz-Luwisch’s (2005) volume on storytelling and possibilities breaks new ground as does De Mulder and Rigsby’s (2003) article. Kelchertermans (2005), among others, has researched the role of emotions and vulnerability in teaching.
Complexity, Change, and Reform in Teaching Where reflection and reflective practice in the field of teaching is concerned, complexity, change, and school reform also are themes in the knowledge base. Latta (2008) has written about relational complexity, and Cochran-Smith (2006b) has discussed the unforgiving complexity of accountability. As for Soto (2005), she has centered on complexities encountered in the democratic sphere and Sugrue (1997) has addressed the complexities of child-centered practices. Meanwhile, Raider-Roth (2004) implores educators to take time to think through complexities and Florio-Ruane (2002) likewise urges educators to pay more attention to complexity. In the change arena, Ghaye (2005) described reflection as a catalyst for change and Larrivee (2000) associated the transformation of teachers’ practices with critical reflection. An important volume edited by Rust and Freidus (2001) hones in on the role of change agents in school reform efforts. Clandinin and Connelly (1998) have additionally discussed school reform from a narrative point of view, and Craig (2003, 2006) has authored a book and articles capturing narrative inquiries of school reform.
Curriculum and Teaching Curriculum is a topic that has been approached reflectively as well. Gudmundsdottir (1991) has discussed the narrative structures of curriculum, and Conle (2003) has presented its “narrative anatomy.” Olson (2000) has spoken of curriculum as a “multistoried process”, and Murray Orr and Olson (2007) have focused on emergent curriculum arising from “narrative encounters” in the classroom. Also, within the specific subject areas, the role of reflection and reflective practice in education has emerged as a theme. Hillocks (1995) speaks of writing as reflective practice, Thornton (2005) views artist teachers as reflective practitioners, and Kooy (2006) engages teachers in reflective thinking and writing in book clubs. Lampert and Ball (1998) discuss multimedia and mathematics; Ross (2003) centers on reflective approaches to the teaching and learning of mathematics, science, and technology; and Sack (2008) employs reflective thinking as part of a high school mathematics summer institute. Lastly, Hermes (2005) takes a social justice approach to understanding curriculum as lived in a Navajo community, and Chan (2006) centers on culture as encountered in the curriculum.
Teacher Professional Development Teacher professional development undertaken in a reflective manner forms another ripe vein of the teaching literature base. Day (1993) speaks of reflection as a necessary, but not sufficient condition, for professional development; Conle (2000) advocates for narrative inquiry as a professional development tool and medium; and Diamond and Mullen (1999) take an arts-based approach to promoting teacher professional development. Olson and
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Craig (2001) follow the development of teachers’ narrative authority in knowledge communities; Burchell et€al. (2002) trace the impact of teachers’ continuing professional development; and Zwart et€al. (2007) have studied reciprocal peer coaching with experienced teachers. Finally, Borko (2004) has provided the field with a literature search on teacher professional development. Teacher Collaboration, Conversation, and Community Collaboration, conversation and community are also the integral components of reflection and reflective practice in the field of teaching. Christiansen et€al.’s (1997) edited book is exemplary. Also, Hindon et€al. (2007) have elucidated how teacher collaboration is more than teacher group activity, and Glazer et€ al. (2004) have created a teacher-developed process for collaborative inquiry. Morris and Stew (2007) have described a 2:1 model involving peer reflection, and Meirink et€ al. (2007) have investigated individual teacher learning within collaborative settings. Where conversation is concerned, Clark’s (2001) book – with chapters authored by Clark and Florio-Ruane, for example – comprehensively addresses the topic. Hollingsworth’s (1994) book on urban literacy reform and sustained teacher conversation is also noteworthy, as is Witherell and Noddings’s (1991) edited volume on narrative and dialogue. More recently, Goodfellow (2000) has studied reflective conversations with one cooperating teacher, and Zyngier (2007) has focused on substantive conversations with teachers and students for resistance, empowerment, and engagement. Finally, Ben-Peretz and Schonmann (2000) have shone the spotlight on teachers’ conversations behind the closed doors of the faculty lounge. Teacher community is an additional topic to which significant attention has been directed. Craig (2007) recently elaborated the characteristics of teachers’ knowledge communities and Grossman et€al. (2001) have produced a theory of teacher community. Lieberman (2000) additionally has written about the development of networks as reflective forums for teacher development.
Teacher Research and Representing Teachers Teacher research, otherwise known as teacher inquiry, constitutes yet another important theme in the reflective practice in the teaching profession literature. Cochran-Smith and Lytle (i.e., 1998) have written extensively in this area, especially on the questions that persist. Gore and Gitlin (2004) have also illuminated the academic-teacher divide. Meanwhile, Loughran et€al. (2002) and Rust and Myer (2006) have championed teacher research and the role it plays in reform efforts. From an action research perspective, Altrichter et€al. (1993) have written about how teachers might approach the study of their practices, and Kelley et€ al. (2008) have shared their traveling journals concept. As for Clandinin et€al. (2008), they have revealed how sites for inquiry are navigated. Representing teachers in research studies is a related topic of inquiry. The writing up of case study research has been discussed by Husu and Tirri (2003) and Nieto (1999a). O’Connor (2007) addressed the matter of scholarly role-taking, and Bullough and Pinnegar (2001) provide guidelines for inquiries of the self-study variety. Ryken (2004) exemplifies how metaphors can be used to unpack teacher knowledge and experience and Chang and Rosiek (2003) employ the sonata form to represent teacher knowledge. Meanwhile, Wasser and Bresler (1996), Clandinin et€al. (2006), and Ritchie and Rigano (2007) crystallize how members of a research team work together.
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Race, Culture, and Human Difference in Teaching Race, culture, and human difference form another major vein of the teaching literature. Conle (1997) described dialogue across difference, Conle et€al. (2002) discussed cultural learning carved from vicarious experiences, and Phillion (2002) and Connelly et€al. (2003) presented a narrative conception of multiculturalism. Chan (2003) wrote from an Asian– Canadian perspective and He (2003) discussed the experience of east–west cultural transition. Elbaz-Luwisch (2004) has focused on diversity and co-existence and the experiences of immigrant teachers, and Feuerverger (2001) has discussed teaching and learning peace in a Jewish–Palestinian village. Huber et€al. (2003) have centered on the creation of communities of cultural imagination, and Nieto (1999b) wrote about “the light in their eyes.” Ladson-Billings (1994) illuminated African American teachers’ contributions through the “dream keeper” metaphor while Carger (1996) captured the Mexican–American experience through Alejandro’s eyes. Teaching Children In the reflective practice literature, children such as Alejandro constitute an important theme because they, too, are considered reflective practitioners (Walters et€ al. 1994). Children’s reflective and self-evaluative capacities are most frequently cultivated through the use of reflective portfolios. Where children’s portfolios are concerned, the work of Seidel et€ al. (1997) and Stefanakis (2002) stood out. Stefankis, for example, described reflective student portfolios as the ways to “sit beside the learning” and develop children’s multiple intelligences. A related vein of the research deals with the ethics of working with children (Huber and Clandinin 2002; Tirri and Husu 2000) and problems that can arise in the conduct of studies. Oyler (1996) discussed sharing classroom authority with children and Schultz and Oyler (2006) described a social justice project undertaken in community with high needs children. Morgan-Fleming et€al. (2008) drew forth for discussion minority youth’s voices and artwork. Raider-Roth (2005) unraveled the relational qualities of classroom life, and Craig and Huber (2006) focused on research relationships with both adults and children. Finally, Clandinin et€ al.’s book exquisitely demonstrated what can be accomplished by engaging in reflective inquiry through the interweaving policy, children’s lives, and teacher’s lives. Having broadly sampled the reflective practice literature in the teaching and teacher education arena, the narrative exemplar of how one teacher’s attempts to be a reflective practitioner were both stymied and encouraged within a context of U.S. school reform will be shared. As foreshadowed, the purpose of this exemplar is to apprise readers of the complexities of context and help them get inside the teacher’s experiences over time through a reflective inquiry approach.
An Exemplar of One Teacher’s Professional Development Experiences (1997–2007) This discussion of reflective practice in the teaching profession centers on Daryl Wilson who is one of 85 teachers at T. P. Yaeger Middle School, a campus located in the fourth largest city in the U.S. Originally one of Yaeger’s eighth grade reading instructors, Daryl, a White male, currently teaches eighth grade literacy. Presently in his 50s, Daryl has approximately 30 years of teaching experience.
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Since 1997, the teacher professional development Daryl has experienced at T. P. Yaeger Middle School has moved seamlessly through four phases, which have been artificially identified for the purposes of this review essay. Three of the phases coincided with the receipt of grants. The fourth features Daryl Wilson negotiating his learning in the presence of a known expert while retaining a degree of autonomy over what he teaches his eighth grade students. At the same time, Daryl is cognizant of constraints that place boundaries on his teaching and his students’ learning. Each of the four phases of professional development Daryl experienced will now be individually introduced and analyzed.
Teacher Professional Development Experience: Phase One Shortly after the research effort began in 1997, a “models of teaching” reform initiative was introduced to Yaeger. Funded by a national philanthropy championing the advancement of teaching, the award was directed to a state educational agency that subsequently divided the funds among the participating school districts. While individual schools were responsible for enacting the proposed change, local teachers did not have input into how the changes were enacted nor were how the expenditures spent determined at the campus level. Instead, a staff developer familiarized the teachers with four well-known models of teaching and they were directed to teach them “clearly, not creatively.” Later, the evaluator and representative of the state education agency visited the teachers’ classrooms, expecting that the models of teaching would be present in lessons. The external mandate and monitoring caused the Yaeger teacher to resent the “models of teaching” reform, which had already proved troubling because the models were neither connected to subject matter nor embedded in the lives of their students. As a result, Daryl Wilson and his teacher colleagues engaged in conversations such as the exchange below: Charles: The lesson models are moving in the opposite direction to teacher empowerment. They are so prescribed that they take away our empowerment… This year is such a mixed bag – Imaging coming in the middle of two class periods and making judgments [about teachers’ practices]… Later… Charles: There is this mirroring thing here that is not collaborative. It means doing what the expert does. It does not give individuals credit for their own smarts… Daryl: I resent having to play the game. People cannot be worked with like they, and their knowledge and experiences, are interchangeable parts (Craig 2001, p, 321)
Needless to say, when the funding ceased, the models of teaching reform lost its forced momentum. To be sure, the “shelved reform” became part of the fabric of the school’s social narrative history, but it did not continue to be lived by the Yaeger faculty. Reflective Analysis: Phase One In this first phase of professional development, we see the introduction of a generic language of teaching, which every faculty member was expected to articulate. Unfortunately, the Yaeger faculty came to know the generic language intellectually but it was not personally made sense of in a manner that would impact the individual teachers’ practices and students’ learning experiences and achievement. In short, the language became part of the teachers’ formal knowledge but not part of the practical knowledge they held and expressed in their classroom interactions with students. Also, the Yaeger teachers claimed that the approach was devoid of subject matter content and knowledge of students as individual learners. Because students were routinely presumed to inhabit “territory populated by many” (Coles 1989, p. 17), the teachers intuitively knew that an underlying premise of the “models of teaching” approach was faulty. They knew that their students needed to be understood
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personally as individuals – not just abstractly as students. For them, teaching had a great deal more to do with the uniqueness of human beings, than with an individual in one role, teaching another individual in another role, a practice that robs both of personhood (Rowan 1981, p. 101).
Teacher Professional Development Experience: Phase Two In 1999–2000, the year that the previously discussed “models of teaching” initiative was winding down, a different reform movement, sponsored by a second philanthropy at the national level, was introduced in a full-blown way to Yaeger. Unlike the models of teaching Phase 1 experience, T. P. Yaeger faculty members were able to decide in Phase 2 how the school would change and how its reform award would be spent in ways that would address individualized student learning, isolation, and teachers’ professional development. Yaeger’s teachers chose to embrace a readers’ and writers’ workshop approach to literacy instruction and a reflective stance to thinking about their teaching. Both of these thrusts are evident in the poem below, which was co-authored by three Yaeger literacy teachers at that time. The poem captures the teachers’ reflective responses to what they learned from reading Calkin’s The Art of Teaching Reading and Keene and Zimmermann’s Mosaic of Thought: Teaching Comprehension in a Reader’s Workshop. Framed by passages excerpted from Lewis Caroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, the poem reads: Once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, It had no pictures or conversations in it, “and what is the use of the book” thought Alice, “without pictures or conversations.” And we ask ourselves, with the art of reading teaching before our eyes and beyond our reach, how? How to teach questioning, how to teach visualizing, how to teach wondering, how to teach connecting, to the child with no questions, no wonders, no connections, and no pictures or conversations peeping and whispering from the pages of the book – Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down what seemed to be a very deep well. Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look at her, And to wonder what was going to happen next. Flipping back to remembered pages Gliding our fingers across the lines We reread To ourselves To each other, Connecting Calkins to classroom, Keene to colleagues, and text to students,
10â•… Reflective Practice in the Professions we wonder --is the data accurate, or does it become curiousor and curiousor the closer you look? Are we teaching a test, a text, Or a student? – And we question – What does Calkins mean by “a curriculum of talk” and Keene by “a mosaic of thought” and with these questions stirring the air – She puzzled over this for some time, but at last a bright thought struck her. “Why, it’s a Looking-Glass book, of course! And if I hold it up to a glass, the words will all go the right way again.” And then we laugh, And breathe, And realize – We will teach them to do What we do as readers – To touch the text with our fingers, To question the text with our curiosity, To visualize the text with our pictures, To connect to the text with our lives, And to enter that Wonderland that is Reading. And Alice knelt down and looked along the passage into the loveliest garden you ever saw.
Reflective Analysis: Phase Two In Phase 2, we witness the move to the readers’ and writers’ workshop approach, a content area method of professional development coupled with a reflective practice orientation. A major strength was that the Yaeger teachers freely explored and documented their wonders and ponders as the reflective poem demonstrated. Yet, this strength was also perceived to be a weakness since not all teachers in the literacy department embraced the workshop approach with the same commitment, nor developed their teaching repertoires in the same direction as the administration had hoped. In this second phase, teachers acting independently as agents worked both for and against the readers’ and writers’ workshop method, depending on who was assessing its merit.
Teacher Professional Development Experience: Phase Three Following Phase 2’s exploratory work associated with the literacy reform and Yaeger’s association with major national reform effort – both of which were well-received, the campus applied for, and received, a targeted grant in 2003. During the third phase of professional development, Yaeger hired a literacy staff developer from an East Coast state. This highly knowledgeable consultant worked in a concentrated manner with members of Yaeger’s literacy department as well as with the school administration. As a result, all teachers at each grade level were expected to be teaching readers’ and writers’ workshop in the same manner and to develop and use common assessments.
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Additionally, each teacher’s classroom was visited anywhere from 20 to 50 times per year by the school administrators and the staff developer, frequently accompanied by other teachers and school guests. Many Yaeger teachers also came to resent this curricular change, not because of the workshop approach to teaching reading and writing or students’ responses to it, but due to how the principal and the staff developer appeared to work in concert with one another. While some teachers disliked being told that they did not know what they needed to learn and the others wondered when they would graduate from the consultant’s tutelage, Daryl Wilson was especially concerned about how “the old would fit in with the new.” He wondered whether there was space for his previously developed units of study and the prior knowledge he brought to the professional development sessions. Daryl subsequently learned that his Holocaust unit, the culmination of many years of planning and summer travel, was scrapped and less-developed themes, ones that were not as personally and pedagogically appealing, took front-and-center stage. As a result, Daryl and his colleagues felt their teacher expertise and intellectual freedom subordinated to their principal’s desires and the consultant’s expert knowledge and pedagogical preferences. At the same time, the teachers recognized that they had learned a great deal about the workshop approach from the consultant, which they subsequently enacted with their students in their classrooms. Reflective Analysis: Phase Three In the Phase 3 approach to teacher professional development, the two main challenges of Phase 2 – the desire for a standardized method and mass participation – were addressed. Unfortunately, both of these professional development concerns were accomplished at the expense of teacher autonomy. As well, the surveillance of the teachers’ practices by the administrators and staff developer, who appeared to act in collusion with one another, introduced a new set of complications. In 2003–2004, four of Yaeger’s 14 highly prepared faculty members, along with one assistant principal, left the campus, in part due to the manner in which teacher professional development became lively. This unfortunate event appeared to happen because human beings seemed to be collectively treated as objects on which others’ wills could be imposed. As Reason and Rowan (1981, p. xviii) have warned, “If you prod people like things, they won’t let you know them.” In short, the “micropolitics” (Achinstein 2002) of the professional development situation were never openly discussed in ways that could have been informative. That is, the concerns of the individuals who left Yaeger were not acknowledged nor addressed appropriately. Neither were the opinions of the teachers who remained on faculty sought. Also, attention was not paid to the fact that the fluid nature of workshop approach prohibited it from being mandated or standardized. Since all approaches to teaching involve human interaction and are not stable, teachers necessarily “need room to maneuver” (Harré 1981, p. 17). Thus, dissatisfaction was experienced in Phase 3 because the power of position was used to bound teachers’ practices in ways that denied teachers’ mindedness and stripped them of their independence as individual change agents with minds and inclinations of their own.
Teacher Professional Development Experience: Phase Four In contrast to the first three phases of teacher professional development, Daryl Wilson attended a professional development session on the East Coast in Phase 4. On this occasion, he interacted with another literacy expert whose approach differed from the staff developer in Phase 3. This second literacy expert challenged the gathered teachers – “in a good way” – to develop tension and beauty in their written products through reflectively drawing on
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their experiences and taking a workshop approach to writing. Below is an excerpt from the autobiographical selection Daryl Wilson wrote as part of his writers’ workshop experience. In the forthcoming passage, Daryl demonstrates how he wove beauty and tension into his writing as a way to learn how his students would grapple with the same themes. “I don’t ever want to see you again. I hate you!” I yelled from the porch as I slammed the screen door as hard as I could. My voice was quivering in unison with the door spring. I could barely make out their stunned faces at the dinner table. My body was shaking uncontrollably, heaving in time with tears that burned my cheeks. My father’s silhouette inside the door warned, “Don’t you even think about leaving this yard like you did last time.” My stepmother had started to mumble something about a hickory stick. Their words trailed off as Spot’s hot breath hit my leg, a welcome shock. “At least you haven’t turned against me, old boy,” I thought to myself. Together we turned and faced the promise of escape across the darkening yard where the green branches danced in the wind. In the flickering light of sunset we ran as if on air, past the ivy-twined oak, toward the waiting shadows.
After Daryl shared his writing excerpt and discussed how he tapped into his personal experience through incorporating the themes of beauty and tension, his students took up a similar challenge supported by Daryl’s example and coached in their writing attempts by Daryl. For instance, an eighth grade male student, Kevin (a pseudonym), wrote World of Blue, an excerpt of which is included below: Standing on the edge of the diving board at the local pool, wearing my green, yellow, and blue gecko patterned swim trucks, I stare down at the twelve foot deep water through my spiffy new goggles I got less than a week ago for my fifth birthday; wondering if I should disobey my mom, who was currently using the pool bathroom, unaware of my actions. Having made my choice, I turned around to get off of the diving board when this annoying kid from my neighborhood, that I have always hated, started mocking me: “Chicken! Hey everybody look, Kevin’s too afraid to go off the board, he’s just a scare-de-cat.” I was simply annoyed by this, but it was enough to make me question my choice. I didn’t want to face my mom’s anger for going off the board against her will, but I wasn’t going to be known throughout the neighborhood as a coward either. So, I just looked the kid straight in the eye and said, “How ‘bout you shut your trap, eh? I’m just getting ready to build up speed for my dive.” Then I turned around like it was never my intention to back out in the first place. Without a thought about the worst thing that could happen, I closed my eyes and ran off the board. At first I got a sensation of flight, with the wind blowing through my hair, and then a sudden splash, followed by a quick, cold rush and an abrupt stop. I opened my eyes and was surprised to find that I shot straight to the bottom. There I was intrigued as I stared at the surrounding shield of tiny bubbles, made by my dive, and I felt like a curtain was being lifted, as they slowly ascend; a curtain that bridges a world of empty worries to one containing silent, hollowed echoes, and a shimmering blue weightless space, bounded by peace and bordered by imagination. My humbled trance lasted mere seconds, cut short by the realization that for some reason my ears seemed to be exploding. I hadn’t ever been this deep underwater before, so the pain from the pressure felt to me like firecrackers had suddenly gone off in my ears. Acting instinctively, I pushed off the bottom to send myself floating to the surface, an easily accomplished task with pressure’s help. As my head erupted from the water my ears were hit with a second round of piercing pain coming from my mom’s screaming voice: She had seen me go off the board as she left the bathroom. Yes, I had met the challenges and made the jump, in an effort to maintain status, only to suffer new humiliation as my mom publicly read me the riot act.
However, at the same time as Daryl Wilson took great delight in what both he and his students learned as a consequence of the particular professional development experience, Daryl did not lose sight of how the high stakes testing environment demanded the standardization of both his students’ and his experiences. Daryl’s Among Schoolchildren a poem given below, which he openly shared with his literacy department peers, cuts to the core of the testing dilemma that constrains his teaching and his students’ learning.
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C.J. Craig With your bowed heads this grey January morning We set about another state test Careful to leave no child untested, behind The tent cubicles box you in, neat boundaries Around your imaginations So you will not let them run lawlessly beyond the page We say the skills tests are the ones you will need To master if you are to live and prosper So for days you put up with the grueling silences, Give it your best shot, trusting as you are, Somewhere between failure and hope. From the back of the classroom just about your heads A framed dog poster is looming, the usual Dalmatian spots Have turned into living color With eyes that plead dare to be different.
Reflective Analysis: Phase Four Finally, in Phase 4, Daryl Wilson intentionally wills himself to learn from a literacy consultant despite his less satisfying prior experiences with the other staff developer from whom he also learned, albeit reluctantly. The second consultant did not merely tell Daryl that beauty and tension were important to high quality literacy products. Rather, she coached him as to how he might incorporate these themes in his writing. This affected his experiences as a learner and as a teacher and the stories of experience he subsequently lived and re-lived, told and re-told. As a result, Daryl employed his narrative of learning as a teacher to scaffold his students’ learning as well as his colleagues’ professional development in the context of a literacy department meeting at Yaeger. Somewhat later, however, he distributed his cautionary poem that cleverly addressed his deep concerns about the consequences of high stakes testing on his students’ learning without raising the ire of his administrators who in their private moments most probably agreed with him. Overall, connections between teacher learning and student learning were accomplished in phases 2 and 4, revealing how professional development was approached at Yaeger. In Phase 2, the teachers positioned themselves in the role of student learners and imagined how difficult it must be to learn to read when one is missing foundational knowledge, particularly when one is receiving mixed messages. However, in Phase 4, the student under discussion is not generic or imagined: He or she (a male in this case) is specific and able to personally connect his/her experiences of beauty with tensions individually known. But even Phase 4 presents a challenge. Daryl Wilson recognizes that his students’ parents know a great deal more about him than previously disclosed because students such as Kevin carry Daryl’s classroom examples home and discuss them around kitchen tables with their parents. Reflectively thinking and writing about real-world topics like running away from home inherently risk rubbing parents the wrong way, although the issue has yet to become problematic. Nevertheless, Daryl Wilson understands this possible shortcoming and has come to realize that no single approach to teacher professional development is without potential downside. At the same time, Yaeger’s fourth phase of teacher development has been most personally satisfying to him and simultaneously affected his students’ writing. Furthermore, Daryl’s reflective sharing of his personal experiences, along with the aforementioned writing samples with his colleagues, also worked to enhance teacher learning in the Yaeger literacy community. Daryl’s peers made it clear to him that his teaching experience resonated with them – and that it, along with his student’s work sample, were products to which they and their students aspire. One colleague distinctly
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mentioned that his lesson was not a “zinger lesson” – a fail-proof plan that would work anywhere, any time – like the ones the previous staff developer used to teach their students or the lessons the teachers routinely carried back with them from their summer training sessions. Having asserted the centrality of his teaching in Phase 4, Daryl found himself capable of helping others. As Greene (1988) has informed us, “…a teacher in search of his/her own freedom may be the only kind of teacher who can arouse young persons to go in search of their own” (p. 14). That same teacher – Daryl, in this exemplar – may be one of the few who also can spark his/her colleagues’ knowledge developments in ways that can productively change their subsequent teaching practices.
Issues and Future Research From the origins of reflective practice to the related literature on the teaching and teacher education field to the narrative account of Daryl Wilson’s professional development experiences with reflective practice, issues related to the growth and development of reflective teaching and reflective practice in the teaching profession are laced throughout the warp and weft of this chapter. In this final section, three major impediments to reflective practice will be named and ideas for future research endeavors will be shared. The first issue is that of politics. Unlike some professions, the knowledge bases of teaching and teacher education have largely been under the thumb of policymakers, causing the profession to be considered a “lower” or “sub-profession” (Gore and Morrison 2001). Even when substantial funds have been invested in teaching and teacher education, funded research has centered on efficiency questions – questions of number, speed, accuracy, impact – questions that use reflection to serve the purposes of others, as we witnessed in Daryl Wilson’s case, but do not advance reflective practice and the powerful contributions it can make to the quality of lives lived. Further complicating this matter is the associated dilemma of “the primacy of experience and the politics of method” (Eisner 1988). While reflective practice fundamentally honors the individual human right to experience, inquire, and know one’s own situation, it inevitably collides with the politics of those for who control through discipline, punishment and testing (Blacker 1997) is the ultimate aim. And when those in charge politically authorize a single mode of investigation as “the method” – with an eye to extinguishing the rest, the complexities of an already political situation become escalated. Here, the politically charged “reading wars” and the press for valueadded research in teacher education immediately come to mind. But so, too, does Studying Teacher Education: The Report of the AERA Panel on Research and Teacher Education (Cochran-Smith and Zeichner 2005), which rendered inconsequential the vast majority of the international teaching and teacher education literature reported in this chapter due to the narrow parameters set for the AERA study and the privileging of American politics over the interests and desires of a research community emanating from all corners of the world. This leads to the second issue: history. The goals of reflection and reflective practice have largely been sought, but never achieved over the history of humanity. As with narrative, reflective practice will always be “unfinished and unfinishable business” (Elbaz-Luwisch 2006). In teaching and teacher education, the field has allowed others to interpret the unruly nature of reflectivity as a liability rather than seeing it as being illustrative of the highest form of human accomplishment (Bruner 2002). In short, the fact that reflective practice has not to be codified – and probably should not be codified in paradigmatic ways – is something with which the profession needs to come to grips. At the same time, this does not mean that issues inherent in Dewey’s scholarship and the critique of Schön’s work do not need to be addressed in teaching and teacher education. However, the field needs to
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move past its fixation with Dewey and Schön. As Schwab (1969) once remarked, “How many reworkings of Dewey do we need?”. In this instance, Schwab was not disparaging Dewey, for Schwab, like Schön, was Deweyan in his outlook. Rather, Schwab was cajoling others to enact Dewey, to move Dewey into lived practice, to be wide awake, to break free of “flights from the field.” Hence, the teaching profession not only needs to attend to how Dewey’s and Schön’s scholarship is used, it also needs to focus more centrally on living those philosophies but also building more directly on scholars other than Dewey and Schön – Schwab, for example, but also Lyons and LaBoskey (2002) and Clandinin and Connelly, to name but a few. This second issue brings us to the third and perhaps the most pernicious of all: context. The exemplar in the latter part of this review essay keenly demonstrates how and what the teachers know and are able to reflectively do is largely – and certainly not inconsequentially – shaped by the contexts in which their teaching takes place and those with whom they share those contexts. This critically important factor has previously been discussed by Clandinin and Connelly (1996) and Lyons (2008). But herein lies another rub: How can the powerful forces of the political, which undeniably need to be present in educational debates, be harnessed in ways that allow the knowledge and experiences of career teachers like Daryl Wilson to inform policy making? And when will Daryl’s and other teachers’ and teacher educators’ questions – rather than the questions of government-sponsored researchers or members of the business forum – be given credence and afforded public attention and funding? In a nutshell, a different set of questions needs to be posed by a different set of constituents, not the least of who are teachers and teacher educators (Clandinin and Connelly 1996; Cochran-Smith 2006a, b). These three issues, while not the only ones swirling around the teaching and teacher education arena, are the most nagging and in the most urgent need of attention. Therefore, future research initiatives will need to attend to them in rigorous and purposeful ways. More in situ studies deeply embedded in relationship and context are necessary. Some most certainly would need to be positioned at the intersection where formal and practical aspects of teacher knowledge intersect. Others would need to unearth the unintended consequences of public policy. Still others would unpack the diversity of human experience, the subtly nuanced effects of coaching, and the influence of different reform proposals on what teachers and students are able to know and do. Further ones would deal more intimately with children. And still others would need to cross institutional and national boundaries to add heft to the contributions that reflection and reflective practice can make. The future research agenda of reflection and reflective practice in teaching and teacher education needs to be multifaceted and bold. The teaching profession is at crossroads – nothing less will do. Acknowledgmentâ•… The author recognizes the centrality of Daryl Wilson’s and other teachers’ teaching and is appreciative of his and other local teachers’ sustained participation in her research program. She also thanks Yung-Chen Chung, Julie Cote, Xiao Han, and Jacob Neumann for their help as research assistants and Lily Orland-Barak of Haifa University, Israel and Helen Burchell of University of Hertfordshire, U.K. for sharing their important insights as chapter reviewers. Special gratitude is extended to T. P. Yaeger Middle School, other local campuses, and the reform movement for ongoing interest and financial support of the work described in this essay.
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Changing one’s mind – Maintaining one’s identity: A first-grade teacher’s story. Teachers College Record, 93, 73–86. Walters, J., Seidel, S., & Gardner, H. (1994). Children as reflective practitioners: Bringing metacognition to the classroom. In N. Mangieri & C. Block (Eds.), Creating powerful thinking in teachers and students: Diverse perspectives (pp. 289–303). Fort Worth, TX: Harcourt Brace College. Wasser, J. D., & Bresler, L. (1996). Working in the interpretive zone: Conceptualizing collaboration in qualitative research teams. Educational Researcher, 25, 5–15. Weinbaum, A., Allen, D., Blythe, T., Simon, K., Seidel, S., & Rubin, C. (2004). Teaching as inquiry: Asking hard questions to improve practice and student achievement. New York: Teachers College Press. Westbury, I. (2000). Teaching as reflective practice: What might Didaktik teach curriculum. In I. Westbury, S. Hopmann & K. Riquarts (Eds.), Teaching as a reflective practice: The German Didaktik tradition (pp. 15–40). 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Chapter 11
Critical Reflection as an Adult Learning Process Stephen Brookfield
In the world of professional education today, we see frequent calls for practitioners to be critically reflective. Critical reflection is viewed as unquestionably good, something that thoughtful and experienced practitioners incorporate into their practice as a matter of course. In most areas of professional work, where legislation, professional codes and requirements, practitioners’ own commitments and philosophies, and the pressure to meet prescribed targets combine to make daily practice a whirlpool of contradictions, the need to be able to step back from cases and situations and view them from different perspectives becomes crucial. Not only is such reflection important to workers taking informed clinical decisions, it is also necessary if they are to keep a sense of perspective on the limits of their influence. When they understand themselves as practicing at the intersection of systemic imperatives and personal commitments, then practitioners are less likely to blame themselves when situations go awry, as is bound to happen. Clinical practice, as clinicians across various fields of practice know, is frequently located in a zone of ambiguity. The actuality of clinical experience often stands in marked contrast to the patterns of practice laid out in introductory texts and preservice training. Indeed, the contrast between the neatness of professional training and the apparent chaos of clinical experience calls into question the usefulness of preservice training. If the world refuses to conform to models, concepts, and research, then what use is it to study theory? If techniques and responses acquired in school are constantly rendered irrelevant, or distorted, by the exigencies of practice, then why should we bother learning them? This is where reflective inquiry comes in. Preservice education is certainly important and necessary to introduce us to the broad parameters of a field and provide us with necessary technical knowledge and ethical codes. In-service training also helps us adapt the knowledge and skills we already have to existing situations, and it also provides us with information that will help us meet new situations. But the chief form of learning that practitioners undertake is reflective learning; learning to reflect in and on the problems they face in the field every day. Through reflective inquiry on specific problems of practice, workers explore the assumptions that frame their perception of these problems and the responses typically generated to deal with them. Not surprisingly, then, the language of reflection, reflective inquiry, reflective practice, and critical reflection is common across
S. Brookfield () University of St. Thomas, Saint Paul, MN, USA e-mail:
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many professional fields such as teaching, social work, and nursing, to name just three. What is problematic about this, however, is the tendency to conflate the terms “reflection” and “critical reflection”, as if both mean roughly the same thing and describe roughly the same behaviors. The conflating of the terms “reflection” and “critical reflection” implies that adding the qualifier “critical” somehow makes the kind of reflection happening deeper and more profound, a sort of reflection with an edge. I contend, however, that reflection is not, by definition, critical. It is quite possible to practice reflectively while focusing solely on the nuts and bolts of process and leaving unquestioned the criteria, power dynamics, and wider structures that frame a field of practice. To me, critical reflection always has a normative basis; that is, it is grounded in a set of values concerning what kind of learning and education is inherently most valuable. After all, in a purely technical sense, one could talk about becoming more reflective regarding the way one persuaded others that one race was inherently inferior to another, or how best to convince skeptics that the efficiency of authoritarian control is always to be preferred over the messiness of democracy. Totalitarian leaders in different kinds of organizations, communities, and societies are quite capable of using reflection in its broadest, most technical sense to tighten their ideological manipulation of the masses; indeed, the most “successful” of them become highly adept at this. Reflection is useful and necessary in the terms it sets itself; that is, to make a set of practices work more smoothly and achieve the consequences intended for them. But this is not critical reflection; critical reflection calls into question the power relationships that allow, or promote, one set of practices considered to be technically effective. It assumes that the minutiae of practice have embedded within them the struggles between unequal interests and groups that exist in the wider world. For reflection to be considered critical, it must have as its explicit focus uncovering, and challenging, the power dynamics that frame practice and uncovering and challenging hegemonic assumptions (those assumptions we embrace as being in our best interests when in fact they are working against us).
The Mechanics of Reflective Practice Reflection focuses on uncovering assumptions, the conceptual glue that holds our perspectives, meaning schemes, and habits of mind in place. People’s capacity for holding assumptions that contradict each other, and that are contradicted by events and experiences, knows no bounds. As Basseches (2005) illustrates, adults are able to move back and forth between asserting general assumptions that are viewed as guides for living (such as honesty is the best policy) and particular, context-specific assumptions that contradict the general ones (sometimes, circumstances mean that lying about one’s real agenda, or motivation is necessary for one to have any chance of success). The texts of our lives – our experiences and how we ascribe meaning to these – are the focus of assumption hunting. The internal grammar of these texts comprises the assumptions, and ways we assess the accuracy of these, that we develop to explain situations, solve problems, and guide actions. We develop assumptions about the meaning that should be ascribed to other people’s words, assumptions about the significance of others’ behaviors, about how to solve problems we that keep encountering, and assumptions to guide our choices, judgments, and decisions. Conceived this way, critical reflection involves us in recognizing and researching the assumptions that undergird our thoughts and actions within relationships, at work, in community involvements, in avocational pursuits, and as citizens. It takes the process outside the classroom and away from academic disciplines and divisions and places it squarely in the center of our experiences.
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So much of what we think, say and do in the contexts of adult life is based on assumptions about how the world should work, and what counts as appropriate, moral action within it that we have developed in childhood and adolescence. Yet, frequently these assumptions are not recognized for the provisional understandings that they really are. Ideas and actions that we regard as common sense conventional wisdoms are often based on assumptions regarding the credibility of authority sources. Some person, institution, or authority that we either trust or fear has told us that “this is the way things are,” and we accept their judgment unquestioningly. Or, more circumspectly, our reading of the world has seemed to emerge in us in a way that is experienced as natural, innate. Sometimes this reading puts us at a disadvantage as we embrace ideas and practices that we view as desirable and in our best interests even as they are destroying us. The assumptions we accept unquestioningly as commonsense are sometimes the same ones that have been constructed by a dominant group or class to keep us servile and marginalized. This is what Gramsci (1971) described as hegemony. As a learning process, reflection involves four interrelated processes. It frequently begins with an event that points out a discrepancy between assumptions and perspectives that explain what happens in real life and also the world satisfactorily. This is what Mezirow (1990, 2000) and other theorists of transformative learning call a disorienting dilemma. Such dilemmas are usually experienced as traumatic, such as the breakdown of a marriage in which one has followed the rules for successful relationships, or being fired from a job in which one has diligently observed correct codes of conduct. Usually, the first reaction to such a dilemma is to blame oneself for one’s supposed failure or mistake, rather than seeing the situation not at all connected to wider structural considerations. Because of this event, the adult becomes aware of assumptions that have been accepted unquestioningly up to that stage in life and starts to realize that these assumptions need to be scrutinized for their accuracy and validity. But before they can be assessed or challenged, assumptions need to be identified clearly. This is the first discrete task of reflection. Assumptions are the understandings we hold about how the world works, or ought to work, which are embedded in language and represented in action. Separating an assumption out of the language in which it is expressed is, at one level, impossible. As Habermas (1987) suggests in his analysis of the lifeworld, we often only sense when an assumption is lurking at the fringe of consciousness because a crisis sets it in sharper relief than usual. When a new response is called for a situation we have not experienced before, we often become aware of the assumptions that have framed our conduct up to that point and of their limitations. Once an assumption has been identified, its accuracy needs to be assessed. In this second stage, we ask whether or not following the assumption leads to the consequences we expect. We also consider the evidence that is most important in causing us to think the assumption is a worthwhile guide to action or an accurate reading of a situation. This entails us reviewing how we can examine such evidence to make some judgment of its validity. Thirdly, an important element in making sense of assumptions is taking different perspectives on them, seeing situations and actions through the eyes of others involved in them. During this process of scrutiny, alternative perspectives on thought or action start to suggest themselves. As we see our actions from another viewpoint, we help ourselves to recognize how many of these are based on assumptions that remain unchecked. Finally, on the basis of this analysis, we take informed actions – informed because they are based on a careful scrutiny and assessment of assumptions, their rationale can be explained to others, and they stand a good chance of achieving the consequences we intend for them. “Action” as understood here includes cognitive action as well as behavioral. This final phase of the cycle keeps on repeating itself as we go through more experiences characterized by depth, breadth, and intensity.
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From Reflection to Critical Reflection In the previous section, the technical aspects of reflection were described, and this description was informed by a number of intellectual traditions, most prominently analytic philosophy and pragmatism. When professionals talk about reflective practice, it is these traditions that usually lurk at the periphery. How is it that the same term can be used to refer to such different things? To understand the concept of critical reflection properly, we need to disentangle the different, and often conflicting, intellectual traditions informing its use. These are four in number: ideology critique as seen in Neo-Marxism and the work of the Frankfurt School of critical social theory, psychoanalysis and psychotherapy, analytic philosophy and logic, and pragmatist constructivism. From a critical theory perspective, reflection focuses on uncovering power dynamics and detecting the creation and maintenance of hegemony. From a psychoanalytic and/or psychotherapeutic perspective, critical reflection occurs when adults become aware of how psychological mechanisms learned and confirmed in childhood are impeding their full development as healthy adults. From an analytic philosophy perspective, being critical is learning to play language games, recognize forms of reasoning (inductive, deductive, analogical and syllogistic) and practice logic. From a pragmatic and constructivist perspective, critical reflection is evident when people realize how they are active constructors of their own experience in a world of open possibilities. My own understanding of critical reflection draws strongly from critical theory, though I am also influenced by the methodology of pragmatist constructivism, believing that how critical reflection varies significantly from person to person, context to context. Depending on the perspective one works within, critical reflection can be understood to mean very different, sometimes antithetical, things. So, we must not view critical reflection as an unequivocal concept. It is, rather, a contested idea. How the term is used reflects the ideology of the user. For example, consider the different ways people define critical reflection at the workplace. Following the work of Arygris (1982), critical reflection can be represented by executives’ use of lateral, divergent thinking strategies and double loop learning methods. Here, the purpose of critical reflection is to examine the assumptions that govern business decisions to check whether or not these decisions were grounded in an accurately assessed view of market realities. Inferential ladders are scrutinized for the false rungs that lead business teams into, for example, a disastrous choice regarding the way in which a brand image upsets a certain group of potential customers. The consequence of this critical reflection is an increase in profits and productivity, and a decrease in industrial sabotage and worker alienation. Capitalism is unchallenged as more creative or humanistic ways are found to organize production or sell services. The free market is infused with social democratic warmth that curtails its worst excesses. It is hard to see how this can be called critical if the ideological and structural capitalist premises of the workplace remain intact. For others working within the Neo-Marxist tradition of critical theory, critical reflection in a business setting cannot occur without an explicit critique of capitalism (Simon et€al. 1991). Here, workplace critical reflection questions the morality of relocating plants to Mexico or Honduras where pollution controls are much looser and labor is much cheaper. It challenges the demonizing of union members as corrupt Stalinist obstructionists engaged in a consistent misuse of power. It investigates the ways in which profits are distributed and the conditions under which those profits are generated. It points out and queries the legitimation of capitalist ideology through changes in language, for example, the creeping and ever more widespread use of phrases such as “buying into” or “creating ownership” of an idea, the description of students as “customers”, or the use of euphemisms such as “downsizing” or worse, “rightsizing” (with its implication that firing people restores some sort of natural balance to the market) to soften and make palatable the reality of people losing their livelihoods, homes, marriages, self-respect and hope. In terms of ideology critique, the
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workplace is transformed when cooperative democracy and worker control replace the distribution of profits among shareholders. The factory councils in Turin, the Clydeside Shipbuilding (Scotland) sit-in, and the 1968 occupation of the Renault factory outside Paris would be examples of critically reflective learning at the workplace in this perspective. The kind of context-free reflection I outlined in the opening section is useful because it helps people make informed decisions that are grounded in assumptions and evidence that have been assessed accurately and therefore stand a good chance of achieving the effects we intend. Reflection is necessary in the terms it sets itself; that is, to make a set of practices, work more smoothly and achieve the consequences intended for them. What happens when people speak of “critical” reflection rather than just “reflection”? I contend that adding “critical” represents a transformational difference because the idea of criticality is grounded in critical theory. In other words, when viewed from a critical theory perspective, critical reflection focuses not on how to work more effectively or productively within an existing system, but on calling the foundations and imperatives of the system itself into question, assessing their morality, and considering alternatives.
Grounding Critical Reflection in Critical Theory Positioning critical reflection within the critical theory tradition means that immediately it takes on a partisan nature and is enlisted in the cause of critical theory’s broader sociopolitical project of creating democratic Socialism. To some, this partisan stance will be regrettable, even unpalatable. However, viewed in the context of the United States in the early twenty-first century, with capitalism imploding as major financial institutions fall like dominoes, and the country mired in an illegal war that has killed thousands, linking critical reflection to social change seems obvious. The time for a nuanced understanding of power focused on how democratic initiatives are experienced as oppressive by their recipients, seems long past. The shameless ideological manipulation of patriotic symbols, and the suggestion that those opposed to the war in Iraq are unpatriotic appeasers who give succor to the enemy, has been remarkably successful. If adult education’s application of critical reflection to matters of power and hegemony is accepted, then educating people to recognize and challenge this ideological manipulation is squarely in the historical tradition that sees adult education as essential to the maintenance of democracy. To understand critical reflection as shaped by the critical theory tradition, we need to understand the nature of critical tradition. A body of work critical theory is grounded in three core assumptions regarding the way the world is organized; (1) that apparently open, western democracies are actually highly unequal societies in which economic inequity, racism and class discrimination are empirical realities, (2) that the way this state of affairs is reproduced as seeming to be normal, natural and inevitable (thereby heading off potential challenges to the system) is through the dissemination of dominant ideology, and (3) that critical theory attempts to understand this state of affairs as a prelude to changing it. Dominant ideology comprises the set of broadly accepted beliefs and practices that frame how people make sense of their experiences and live their lives. When it works effectively, it ensures that an unequal, racist, sexist, and homophobic society is able to reproduce itself with minimal opposition. Its chief function is to convince people that the world is organized the way it is for the best of all reasons and that society works in the best interests of all. Critical theory regards dominant ideology as inherently manipulative and duplicitous. From the perspective of critical theory, a critical adult is one who can discern how the ethic of capitalism, the belief in White supremacy, the acceptance of patriarchy and heterosexism, and the logic of bureaucratic rationality push people into ways of living that perpetuate economic, racial, and gender oppression. Additionally, and
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crucially, critical theory views a critical adult as one who takes action to create more democratic, collectivist economic and social forms. Some in the tradition (for example, Cornel West) link social change to democratic socialism, others (for example, Erich Fromm) to socialist humanism. Clearly, then, the way critical theory defines being critical is far more politicized than the way humanistic psychology – a dominant discourse in adult education – regards this idea. Seeing through the lens of critical theory, critical reflection often involves the experience of questioning, and then replacing or reframing, an assumption that is unquestioningly accepted as representing dominant commonsense by a majority. Since critical theory regards the mainstream majority as being ideologically manipulated to conform, critical reflection also entails the experience of taking a perspective on social and political structures, or on personal and collective actions, which is strongly alternative to that held by a majority. Its focus is always on analyzing commonly held ideas and practices for the extent to which they perpetuate economic inequity, deny compassion, foster a culture of silence, and prevent people from realizing a sense of common connectedness. When critical reflection as a reflexive habit is understood in this way , a stance toward the world in which the deconstruction of ideas and professional practices for the interests they serve becomes second nature. Ideology critique is a central idea in critical theory and one that I view as an important component of critical reflection. Ideology critique is part learning process, part civic action. It describes the process by which people learn to recognize how uncritically accepted and unjust dominant ideologies are embedded in everyday situations and practices. Critical reflection as ideology critique focuses on helping people come to an awareness of how capitalism, White Supremacy, patriarchy, ableism, heterosexism, and other ideologies shape beliefs and practices that justify and maintain economic and political inequity. An important element in this tradition is the concept of hegemony, which explains how subjugated people are convinced to embrace dominant ideologies as always being in their own best interests. Understanding ideology means knowing how it’s embedded in the inclinations, biases, hunches, and apparently intuitive ways of experiencing reality that we think are unique to us. To challenge ideology, we need to be aware of how it lives within us and works against us by furthering the interests of others. Without this element of ideology critique, the process of clarifying and questioning assumptions is reflective, but it is not necessarily critical. Critical reflection as ideology critique focuses on helping people come to an awareness of how capitalism shapes belief systems and assumptions (i.e. ideologies) that justify and maintain economic and political inequity. To the contemporary educational critic Henry Giroux, “the ideological dimension that underlies all critical reflection is that it lays bare the historically and socially sedimented values at work in the construction of knowledge, social relations, and material practices .... it situates critique within a radical notion of interest and social transformation” (1983, p. 154–155). Ideology critique is close to what Mezirow calls “systemic” critical reflection, and he deals extensively with it his transformative learning theory that focuses on probing sociocultural distortions (Mezirow 1990, 2000). As well as comprising a theory of social analysis, ideology critique also contains within it the promise of social transformation and frames the work of influential activist adult educators such as Freire, Tawney, Williams, Horton, Coady, and Tomkins. Ideologies are sets of values, beliefs, myths, explanations, and justifications that appear self-evidently true and morally desirable. What we think are our personal interpretations and dispositions are, in Marcuse’s (1964) terms, ideologically sedimented. French social theorists Louis Althusser (1969) and Pierre Bourdieu (1977) argue that what seem to us to be natural ways of understanding our experiences are actually internalized dimensions of ideology. Bourdieu calls this “habitus”, while Althusser writes of “Our affective, unconscious relations with the world ... the ways in which we are pre-reflectively bound up in social reality” (Eagleton 1991, p. 18). So what seem to us to be our idiosyncratic “structures
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of feeling”, to use Raymond Williams’ (1977) term, are really social products, shaped by the cultural group and social class to which we belong. Ideologies are manifest in language, social habits, and cultural forms. They legitimize certain political structures and educational practices so that these come to be accepted as representing the normal order of things. The emphasis of cultural critics like Williams on how ideology lives within our internal structures of feeling is an important one. Mezirow argues that ideology critique is appropriate for critical reflection on external ideologies such as communism, capitalism, or fascism or for reflection on our own “economic, ecological, educational, linguistic, political, religious, bureaucratic, or other taken-for-granted cultural systems” (Mezirow 1998, p. 193) and distinguishes it from critical reflection on and in private intrapersonal domains. But, as Eagleton (1991) has shown, ideology critique has become a much more subtle form of analysis since its early emphasis on the way in which the superstructure of cultural, religious, and political beliefs was framed by the base of economic relationships. Now, as culturalists like Williams and poststructuralists like Foucault argue, ideologies are experienced as constituent elements of our personalities, framing how we experience the world. From this point of view, ideology critique focuses on how ideology lives within us, pervading our emotional responses. Ideology is not to be understood as pertaining only to our beliefs about social, political, and economic systems, but as something that frames our moral reasoning, our interpersonal relationships, our ways of knowing, experiencing, and judging what is real and true. Snap decisions, intuitions, picking up on clues as we interview a client, and enter a home or participate in a case conference are all experienced as highly personal. But critical theory argues that there is always a structural element embedded in these responses that predetermines them to be favorable to dominant ideology. When we do ideology critique, we try to penetrate the givens of everyday reality to reveal the inequities and oppression that lurk beneath. But because of their pervasiveness and persuasiveness, ideologies are hard to penetrate. They are perceived both as representing widely held common sense understanding, and as springing from the unique circumstances of our own lives. However, by turning logic on its head, looking at situations sideways and making imaginative leaps, we realize that things are the way they are for a reason. Through ideology critique what strikes us as the normal order of life becomes revealed as a constructed reality that serves to protect the interests of the powerful. If what Foucault (1980) calls the “normalizing gaze” is socially constructed, it occurs to us that it can be dismantled and remade by human effort. This tradition frames my own understanding of critical reflection by imbuing it with two distinct purposes, both of which are variations of ideology critique. The first is to understand how considerations of power undergird, frame, and distort so many adult educational processes and interactions. The second is to question assumptions and practices that seem to make our lives easier but that actually end up working against our own best long term interests – in other words, those that are hegemonic.
The Distinct Purposes of Critical Reflection Power is omnipresent in human interactions. It is evident in the processes of decisionmaking and evaluation deemed “professional” within educational institutions, in the teaching methods instinctively adopted in all forms of education, in the kinds of discourse allowed in student evaluations, even in the way the chairs are set out at a meeting or in a classroom. The flow of power can be named and redirected or made to serve the interests of the many rather than the few, but it can never be denied or erased. In Foucault’s (1980) words, “it seems to me that power is ‘always already there’, that one is never ‘outside’ it, that there are no ‘margins’ for those who break with the system to gambol in” (p. 141).
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Becoming aware of how the dynamics of power permeate all professional practice helps us realize that forces present in the wider society always intrude into our work with clients and colleagues. Critical reflection regards teaching practices, professional and ethical codes, and accepted modes of decision-making as contested – phenomena containing the contradictory crosscurrents of the struggles for material superiority and ideological legitimacy that exist in the world outside. When we become aware of the pervasiveness of power, we begin to notice the oppressive dimensions to practices that we had thought were neutral or even benevolent. To use Mary Parker Follett’s terms, we start to explore how power over people is transformed into power with people (Follett 1924a, b). Externalizing and investigating power relationships is the first purpose of critical reflection, and is the one that forces practitioners to acknowledge the considerable power they exercise in their practice. No matter how much we protest our desire to be at one with students, it is disingenuous to pretend that as professionals, we are the same as them, separated only by our possession of an arbitrarily awarded qualification. Better to acknowledge publicly our position of power, to engage students and colleagues in deconstructing that power, and to model a critical analysis of our own source of authority. This involves us in becoming alert to, and publicly admitting, oppressive dimensions to our practice that students, colleagues, and professional literature have helped us to see. The second purpose of critical reflection is to uncover hegemonic assumptions. Hegemonic assumptions are assumptions that we believe represent commonsense wisdom and that we accept as being in our own best interests, without realizing that these same assumptions actually work against us in the long term by serving the interests of those opposed to us. As developed by the Italian political economist and activist Antonio Gramsci (1971), the term hegemony describes the process whereby ideas, structures, and actions come to be seen by the majority of people as wholly natural, preordained, and working for their own good, when in fact they are constructed and transmitted by powerful minority interests to protect the status quo that serves these interests so well. The subtlety of hegemony is that over time, it becomes deeply embedded, as part of the cultural air we breathe. One cannot peel back the layers of oppression and point the finger at an identifiable group or groups of people whom we accuse as the instigators of a conscious conspiracy to keep people silent and disenfranchised. Instead, the ideas and practices of hegemony become part and parcel of everyday life – the stock opinions, conventional wisdoms or commonsense ways of seeing and ordering the world that people take for granted. If there is a conspiracy here, it is the conspiracy of the normal. Hegemonic assumptions about adult educational practice are those that are eagerly embraced by professionals because they seem to represent what’s good and true about the field and therefore to be in teachers’ and students’ own best interests. Yet these assumptions actually end up serving the interests of groups that have little concern for adult educators’ mental or physical health. The dark irony of hegemony is that people take pride in acting on the very assumptions that work to entrap them. In working diligently to implement these assumptions, adult educators become willing prisoners who lock their own cell doors behind them. Critical reflection on hegemonic processes becomes transformative when it fosters challenges to hegemony, when it prompts counter-hegemonic practices. An example of a hegemonic meta-assumption in the human services field in general, and adult education in particular, is the assumption that adult education is a vocational calling requiring a total commitment by practitioners on behalf of students. Think of how many of your colleagues, perhaps you yourself, speak of your adult educational work in terms of fulfilling a vocation. The concept of adult education as vocation – of answering a calling and being in service to students who themselves have been marginalized and insulted by an oppressive system – appears irreproachable. Who could argue with the notion that good adult educators are selfless servants in the cause of learners’ empowerment? This seems praiseworthy indeed. It marks adult educators out as special
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compared with those moneygrubbers who serve corporate interests and global capitalism. I remember leaving college in my early twenties and being told by a friend going into industry the riches he expected to earn by the time he was 30, and the kind of car he was going to buy as soon as he started work. My envious resentment of his good fortune was eased only by my self-congratulation concerning my choice of vocation. Unlike my mammon-worshipping friend, I would be helping people realize their full potential, thereby increasing the amount of compassion and criticality in the world. “He may be saving money” I thought to myself’ but I’m saving imaginations, saving dignity, saving souls’. Viewed from another perspective, however, things are not quite so sunny. There is a dark side to this idea, notwithstanding its morally admirable aspects. Quite simply, this sense of vocation, of fulfilling a calling to the selfless service of others, opens adult educators to the possibility of exploitation and manipulation. Vocation becomes hegemonic when it is used to justify workers taking on responsibilities and duties that far exceed their energy or capacities, and that destroy their health and personal relationships. In effect, their selfdestruction serves to keep a system going that is being increasingly starved of resources. If adult educators kill themselves taking on more and more work in response to budgets being cut, and if they learn to take pride in this apparently selfless devotion to students, then the system is strengthened. Money can be channeled into corporate tax breaks and military expenditure as educators gladly give more and more for less and less. Vocation becomes especially hegemonic when filtered through patriarchy, as is evident in predominantly female professions such as social work, nursing, and teaching. Again and again in my time as a university teacher, I have seen female faculty internalizing the ethic of vocation, and being held to a higher standard regarding its realization, than is the case with their male counterparts. Women professors in departments often become cast as the nurturers, known by students for their excellent teaching and advisement. Translated into academic reality, this means that women professors are willing to spend time working with students rather than locking themselves away in their offices writing articles and books in an effort to gain tenure. Since dominant ideology presumes men to be less relational, less prone to an ethic of care and compassion (in short, less moved by a sense of vocational calling), they receive less opprobrium for being unavailable to students. Vocation becomes hegemonic when it is embedded in institutional culture and interpreted to mean that one should be willing to sacrifice one’s mental and physical well being to the cause of client empowerment (which translates into meaning for the overall institutional good). What seems on the surface to be a politically neutral idea on which all reasonable persons could agree – for example, that social work, nursing, or teaching are vocations of service to clients calling for dedication and hard work – becomes manipulated to mean we should squeeze the work of two or three jobs into the space where one can fit comfortably. Lived out this way, work as vocation becomes a hegemonic concept: an idea that seems a morally desirable example of commonsense wisdom, but that ends up working against practitioners’ own best interests. The interests it serves are those of people who wish to run departments and divisions efficiently and profitably while spending the least amount of money, and employing the smallest amount of staff, they can get away with. As long as practitioners view taking on heavier and heavier workloads as examples of their vocational diligence, and as long as they take pride in the level of commitment this shows, the smaller and smaller resources can be devoted to the provision of services. The subtle power of hegemony, and the chief reason for its successful operation, is its all-pervasive, blanket nature. There seems no chance for opposition, no way to develop alternative possibilities. Defining the enemy, to use Newman’s (1994) phrase, becomes impossible when the enemy is embedded in the thoughts one thinks, the actions one takes, and the relations one lives out, on a daily basis. And even when hegemony is threatened, it is very adept at regrouping its forces to define and accommodate oppositional elements. Were it static and immovable, then the target would be clear. But hegemony is flexible,
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malleable, able to adjust, and reconfigure its shape to try and block whatever revolutionary impulse emerges to challenge it. However, all is not doom and gloom from the tomb. The hegemonic blanket is never broad or deep enough to cover all parts of the body politic at all moments. Hegemony is always being contested, to a greater or lesser extent, by elements of those it seeks to dominate. So the hegemonic process is really a constant process of realignment as challenges arise to the dominant group’s control, and as this group works to dampen these. The contested nature of hegemony is emphasized by Williams (1977) who writes “it is never either total or exclusive. At any time, forms of alternative or directly oppositional politics and culture exist as significant elements in the society” (p. 113). Of course, hegemony is ever watchful for these elements, “especially alert and responsive to the alternatives and opposition which question or threaten its dominance” (ibid.). This means that “it has continually to be renewed, recreated, defended, and modified” at the same time as “it is also continually resisted, limited, altered, challenged by pressures not at all its own” (p. 112). Consequently, Williams argues, “we have then to add to the concept of hegemony the concepts of counter-hegemony and alternative hegemony, which are real and persistent elements of practice” (pp. 112–113). Professionals learn hegemony, to be sure, but they also have the capacity to become critically aware of hegemony as they practice critical reflection.
Understanding the Process The process of critical reflection usually begins with an event that points out a discrepancy between assumptions and perspectives that explain the world satisfactorily and what happens in real life. In this regard, critical reflection is similar to transformative learning (Mezirow 1990, 2000), which usually begins with people experiencing a “disorienting dilemma”. When people get fired with no notice after spending decades working loyally for a company, when marriages fail after people have faithfully followed the rules for successful relationships, or when open and democratic processes are encouraged in organizations and then sabotaged by those same people encouraging them, adults start to question the assumptions by which they have lived their lives and to scrutinize these assumptions for their accuracy and validity. During this process of scrutiny, alternative perspectives on thought or action that are embedded in alternative assumptions start to suggest themselves. The final phase of the cycle (which keeps on repeating itself as we go through more experiences characterized by depth breadth, and intensity) is the taking of informed action. Informed action is action that is grounded in an accurate assessment of the context in which the action is placed, so that the anticipated consequences of the action are as close as possible to those that actually occur. “Action” as understood here includes cognitive action as well as behavioral. In developmental psychology, a body of literature argues that a propensity for critically reflective thought is a distinctively adult capacity not extensively found in children and adolescents (Sinnott 1998). Critical reflection occurs as adults pass through experiences in their interpersonal, work, and political lives that are characterized by breadth, depth, diversity, and different degrees of intensity that only come with time. We cannot critically scrutinize the validity of our unquestioned assumptions about interpersonal relationships, work, and politics until we have lived through the building and decay of several intimate relationships, until we have felt the conflicts and pressures of workplaces, and until we have acted politically and lived with the consequences of our political actions. How can we assess the truth of rules we learned in childhood regarding relationships, work, and politics, until we have experienced directly these complex, contradictory, and ambiguous realities? According to this interpretation of adulthood, what is distinctive about adult
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learning is the search for meaning in these realities, and the process by which critically reflective capacities are developed in this search. A number of different concepts inform this understanding of critical reflection. As already mentioned, the concept of dialectical thinking is at the center of one cluster of theorizing on adult reasoning (Basseches 1986, 2005). Dialectical thinking is described as a form of general reasoning in adulthood in which universalistic and relativistic modes of thought coexist. Its essence is the continuous exploration of the interrelationships between general rules and contextual judgments. Contradictions and discrepancies between these two modes of thought are regarded as opportunities for creative development, for the development of increasing inclusiveness, differentiation, and integration. In terms of a theory of critical reflection in adulthood, the relevance of the cluster of concepts with dialectical thinking at its center is clear. The contextual contradictions and ambiguities of adult life – in particular, the discrepancies between uncritically assimilated norms governing relationships, work and politics, and our experience of these complex realities – impel us to find meaning and create order in the midst of this confusion. We become attentive to the importance of context and the validity of situational or relativistic reasoning, while at the same time, committing ourselves to those values and general beliefs we find most valid for our experience. Adult life is marked by learning how to fuse universal logic with the pragmatic constraints of relationships, work, and community involvement. Adults become aware of how context alters the neat application of rational logic, of how the rules of reasoning learned at earlier stages of life are reinterpreted and contextualized because of their experience of the complexities of adult life. A second cluster of concepts informing understandings of the critical reflection process focuses on the ways adults develop a critical awareness of the oppressive features embedded in existing political arrangements (Newman 2006). The overarching concept for this process is that of emancipatory learning interpreted as the process by which adults learn to free themselves from oppressive social structures and constraining ways of thinking. The process leads to a more accurate and authentic view of reality, in which adults see through the distortions of media images and common sense rules, to understand that education systems, like all other social structures, serve the interests of a dominant class. In emancipatory learning, people realize that “natural” givens, “obvious” truths and commonly accepted values are part of a set of dominant cultural values, the purpose of which is to maintain oppressive social structures. The emancipatory learning paradigm is the paradigm most reflective of the critical theory tradition in adult education. Advocates of emancipatory learning tend to envision a dualism of oppressor and oppressed, of all powerful, omniscient demagogues who, through a subtle manipulation of education, church, and media (or a brutal torturing of dissidents), keep the mass of people in a state of cognitive and emotional stupefaction, a culture of silence. This dualistic paradigm inevitably erects a model of the liberatory educator as one who has a more authentic and accurate view of the prevailing, oppressive reality, and who has a duty to awaken learners from their intellectual slumbers. The role of the educator as animateur of critical consciousness is central to this concept. The confident claims to accurate perceptions of reality made by some proponents of this approach, and the arrogance regarding the apparent gullibility or ignorance of working people embedded within these claims, has done some damage to the prospects for making this view of learning accessible to a wide number of practicing educators. Nonetheless, it has served to focus attention on the centrality of values to all educational activities, and made it harder to assert that adult education is solely concerned with technique and with the provision of whatever learners say they need in the most effective way possible. A third cluster of concepts relating to the process of critical reflection in adulthood has evolved within the field of adult education research, and, as such, represents one of the few attempts to develop theoretical propositions about adult learning, which does not rely on
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perspectives drawn from an allied discipline. The central component here is learning to learn, defined as the capacity adults possess of becoming self-consciously aware of their learning styles and being able to adjust these according to the situations in which they find themselves (Tuijnman and Van Der Kamp 1992). Fundamental to the concept is some form of epistemological awareness, that is, a self-conscious awareness of how we come to know what we know and an ability to appraise the accuracy of the grounds for truth that undergird assertions and practices to which we subscribe. This is sometimes described as epistemic cognition (King and Kitchener 1994).
How Critical Reflection is Experienced Five significant themes are highlighted in adults’ generalized descriptions of how they experience critical thinking, all of which stand out for two reasons; first, they represent the experiential clusters that emerge with the greatest frequency and the greatest validity across the diverse educational settings in which adults learn. Second, they contradict much of the inspirational rhetoric that surrounds discourse on critical reflection. Although there are stories recounting heady moments of transformative breakthrough, of empowerment, of emancipation, and of liberation, what figure equally strongly in adults’ accounts of critical reflection are feelings of impostorship, acknowledgments of a disturbing loss of innocence, accountings of the cost of committing cultural suicide, descriptions of incrementally fluctuating rhythms of roadrunning, and recognition of the significance that membership in an emotionally sustaining learning community has for those in critical process. These stories are the dark underbelly of the inspirational rhetoric of critical thinking and reflection. They are truly tales from the dark side.
Impostorship Impostorship is the sense adult students report that at some deeply embedded level, they possess neither the talent nor the right to become critically reflective. As adults describe the beginnings of their journeys as critical learners, they speak of their engagement in critical process almost as a form of inauthenticity, as if they are acting in bad faith by taking on the external behaviors they associate with critical analysis without really feeling a sense of inner congruence or conviction about these. There is a sense of impostorship regarding the rightness of their taking critical perspectives on familiar ideas, actions, and social forms. This feeling does decrease over time, but it rarely disappears entirely. Not all share this feeling, is a truth, but among adults represented in my own research, it does seem to cross lines of gender, class, and ethnicity. The cultural roots framing impostorship are hard to disentangle, but most who spoke about impostorship viewed it as having been produced by their awareness of the distance between the idealized images of omniscient intellectuals they attached to anyone in the role of “student”, and their own daily sense of themselves as stumbling and struggling survivors. This contrast between the idealized and the actual was so great that the inference was made that aspiring to describe themselves in these idealized terms was unrealistic and unconvincing. At the outset of critical episodes, the triggers that bring this sense of impostorship to the forefront of consciousness are seen at distinct times in adults’ autobiographies. The first of these has to do with the moment of public definition as a student. The news that one has been admitted into an educational program is greeted with a sense of disbelief, not entirely pleasurable. The second deals with a set of public definition or recognition as a
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learner in a social setting. The experience beloved of so many adult eductors of having participants introduce themselves at an opening program session as a way of relieving students’ anxieties seems to have the converse effect of heightening these same anxieties for many learners. Rather than affirming and honoring their prior experiences, this round table recitation of past activities, current responsibilities, and future dreams serve only to heighten adults’ sense of impostorship. Impostorship of a more complex and embedded nature manifests itself in a third way in the reverence adults turned learners feel for what they define as “expert” knowledge enshrined in academic publications, or at least in the public domain of the published, printed word. When asked to undertake a critical analysis of ideas propounded by people seen as experts, adults will often say that to do so smacks of temerity and impertinence. More particularly, they will report that their own experience is so limited that it gives them no starting point from which to build an academic critique of major figures in their fields of study. There is a kind of steamrolling effect in which the status of “theorist” or “major figure” flattens these students’ fledgling critical antennae. This is perhaps most evident when the figures concerned are heroic in their eyes, but it is also evident when students are faced with a piece of work in which the bibliographic scholarship is seen as impressive. The sense of impostorship they feel in daring to comment critically on this makes their experience of engaging in critical analysis seem a rather unconvincing form of role-taking, even play acting. Their assumption is that sooner or later any critique they produce will be revealed to be the product of an unqualified and unfit mind.
Cultural Suicide Cultural suicide is what often happens to adults who are seen by those around them to be reinventing themselves, to be in critical process. Cultural suicide is the threat adults perceive that if they take a critical questioning of conventional assumptions, justifications, structures, and actions too far, they will risk being excluded from the cultures that have defined and sustained them up to that point in their lives. The perception of this danger, and experience of its actuality, is a common theme in adult students’ autobiographies. Students who take critical thinking seriously report that this often causes those around them to view them with fear and loathing, with a hostility borne of incomprehension. The adult in critical process who was formerly seen by friends and intimates as “one of us”, is now seen in one of two ways, both of which carry a real sense of threat to those who see themselves as being betrayed or left behind. On the one hand, the person concerned may be viewed as taking on airs and pretenstions, as growing “too big for her boots”, as aspiring to the status of intellectual in contrast to her friends and colleagues who feel that they are now somehow perceived as less developed creatures grubbing around in the gritty gutters of daily life outside academe. The adult who has come to a critical awareness of what most people accept as taken for granted, commonsense ideas can pose a real threat to those who are not on a similar journey of self-discovery, or who do not see themselves as engaged in the same political or intellectual project. In the eyes of those left behind, the adult student is perceived as having “gone native”, to have become a fully-fledged member of the tribal culture of academe. On the other hand, adults in critical process are sometimes seen as turning into subversive troublemakers whose raison d’etre now seems to be to make life as difficult and uncomfortable as possible for those around them. A common experience reported by adult students is of they rapidly being marginalized as a result of their slipping into a more critical mode in their daily work. They find out that their raising of critical questions regarding commonly held assumptions is not met with resentment and suspicion, with a feeling that
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the person concerned has betrayed the group culture and has somehow become a pink tinged revolutionary. Many students complain that being critically reflective only serves to make them disliked by their colleagues, harms their careers, loses them fledgling friends and professionally useful acquaintances, threatens their livelihoods, and turns them into institutional pariahs.
Roadrunning Mezirow’s (2000) writings on transformative learning have stressed how incremental movement through the various stages of such learning is much more likely than dramatic paradigm shifts. In speaking of critical reflection as a learning process, adults often describe a similar dynamic, a rhythm of learning that might be called incremental fluctuation; put colloquially, it can be understood as two steps forward, one step back, followed by four steps forward, one step back, followed by one step forward, three steps back, and so on in a series of fluctuations marked by overall movement forward. It is a rhythm of learning which is distinguished by evidence of an increased ability to take alternative perspectives on familiar situations, a developing readiness to challenge assumptions, and a growing effective tolerance for ambiguity, but it is also one which is characterized by fluctuating moments of falling back, of apparent regression. When learners are in the middle of these temporary regressions, they report that they experience them as devastatingly final, rather than inconvenient interludes. They are convinced that they will never “get” critical thinking, that “it’s beyond me”, and that they may as well return to tried and trusted ideas and actions on the grounds that even if these didn’t account for everything in life, at least they were comfortable, known, and familiar. I describe this as roadrunning because of the similarity of this dynamic to the basic morif of the Warner Brothers roadrunner cartoons. In these, we see the same scene repeated endlessly. The roadrunner is hurtling along the highway, his “beep beep” cry raising the coyote’s frustration to ever higher levels. The roadrunner comes to the edge of a canyon and, because he possess supernatural powers, leaves solid ground to go out into midair. Suspended 2,000 feet above the canyon floor, he turns round and makes a face at the coyote, who is himself coming to the edge of the canyon rim. The coyote’s adrenalin is already pumping through his veins with the thrill of the chase (roadrunner might stand as a metaphor for the prospect of eventual certainty described in the comments concerning lost innocence), and he becomes incensed even further by the roadrunner’s evident temerity. The coyote’s speed picks up, and he hurtles off the edge of the canyon into thin air in pursuit of the roadrunner. After about three seconds, however, the coyote realizes he is in midair. He freezes, looks down at the canyon floor 2,000 feet below, looks back at the camera with a quizzical, deflated expression, and then plunges to the canyon floor, the screen a mess of limbs and bloodless body parts. In the next frame, of course, we see that coyote has been magically reassembled off camera and the chase begins anew. The moment when coyote realizes that he is in midair – the moment of existential crisis when perception and physics cohere and the law of gravity comes into effect – has the same quality as a particular moment in the incremental rhythm of learning critical reflection. This is the moment when learners in critical process realize they are in a state of limbo. Entranced by the prospect of transformation – of shaking off the shackles of previously distorting, uncritically assimilated assumptions about themselves and their place in the world – they embrace the process of critical reflection with an enthusiasm and optimism borne of the prospect of imminent change for the better. As they struggle to discard or reformulate assumptions that now seem not to explain the world adequately, there is a sense of expectation. The critical struggle, with its attendant aspects of impostorship, cultural suicide, and lost innocence, is seen as worthwhile because of the transformative fruits it will bear.
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There comes a moment, terrifying in its impact, however, when these same adults feel they have left behind many of the assumptions, meaning schemes, and perspectives that were used to explain their world but that no other coherent ones have moved into the vacuum. At this moment, there is a feeling of being in limbo, of being suspended above the canyon floor with the solid ground of familiar assumptions left behind and nothing new that has congealed in their place. This is the time when adults crash to the floor of their emotional canyons, when they face the crises of confidence that cause them to abandon their quest for critical insight and to claw their way back to the security of the known. However, as happens with the coyote, whatever prompted their quest – whatever tantalizing impulse borne of trauma or a niggling sense that “things don’t fit” spurred them on a search for more authentic assumptions in the first place – invariably comes back into play. Sooner or later, the journey for critical clarity begins again, but this time, there is a greater preparedness for the moment of suspension, and an ability to stay dangling above the canyon floor for a few seconds longer than was formerly the case.
Lost Innocence Adults in critical process speak of the epistemological as well as cultural risks they run, and they see their learning to think critically as a journey into ambiguity and uncertainty requiring a willingness to let go of eternal verities and of the reassuring prospect of eventual truth. In contrast to the relentlessly upbeat rhetoric surrounding much exposition on empowerment, liberation, emancipation and transformation, their descriptions of their journeys as learners are quite often infused with a tone of sadness. In particular, they speak of a loss of innocence, innocence being seen in this case as a belief in the promise that if they study hard and look long enough they will stumble on universal certainty as the reward for all their efforts. Although this kind of comment represents a loss of epistemological innocence, an absence of a previously felt faith in the impending revelation of certainty, it also signifies what could be viewed as a corresponding growth in wisdom, in wise action (Sternberg and Jordan 2005). People look back to their time as dualistic thinkers, and to their faith that if they just put enough effort into problem solving solutions would always appear as a golden era of certainty. An intellectual appreciation of the importance of contextuality and ambiguity comes to exist alongside an emotional craving for revealed truth. As practically the only book addressing directly the connection between emotions and adult learning recognizes that the transformative dimensions of critical thinking involve, for an adult, “the agonising grief of colluding in the death of someone who he knows was himself” (More 1974, p.69). In terms of schemas drawn from developmental psychology, people experiencing a loss of innocence are caught in the relativistic freeze between concrete and dialectical thinking or between dualism and multiplism. Despite the prevalence of a sense of epistemological loss, however, one can look long hard and mostly unsuccessfully for themes of yearning, bereavement, and sadness in reports of adult critical reflection found in professional journals and research conference proceedings.
Community Impostorship, lost innocence, cultural suicide, and moments of crisis in roadrunning make for a pretty depressing rendition of the process of learning to become critical, and one which stands in marked contrast to the positive optimism of much transformative rhetoric. There is, however, a more hopeful experiential theme that emerges from adults’ experiences as critical learners – the theme of community. As adults speak of their own critical process,
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they attest to the importance of their belonging to an emotionally sustaining peer learing community – a group of colleagues who were also experiencing dissonance, reinterpreting their practice, challenging old assumptions, and falling foul of conservative forces. Given the fluctuating, emotionally complex and culturally punished nature of critical reflection, it is not surprising to hear adults speak of the store they placed on their membership in a peer support group. As they talk and write about the factors that help them sustain momentum through the lowest moments in their autobiographies as critical learners, it is membership of a learning community – of an emotionally sustaining group of peers – that is mentioned more consistently than anything else. These groups are spoken of as “a second family”, “the only people who really understand what I’m going through”, “my partners in crime”, and they provide a safe haven in which adults in critical process can confirm they are not alone, and through which they can make sense of the changes they are experiencing. Since learning critical reflection entails so many tales from the dark side, it is important that educators have the chance to gain accurate insight into the emotional and cognitive ebbs and flows of this process so that they can help adult students tolerate periods of confusion and apparent regression more easily. Through peer learning communities, students can be encouraged to share their private feelings of impostorship in an attempt to help them realize that their private misgivings can coalesce into publicly recognized truth. Knowing that one is not alone in thinking or feeling something that seems divergent is an important step in coming to take one’s own experience seriously, especially when that experience is of a critical nature and therefore likely to be devalued by mainstream theory and practice. Taking a critical perspective on commonly accepted ideas and practices can easily turn an educational setting into a council of despair as people start to realize the power of the forces and the longevity of the structures ranged against them. However, by using learning communities as the forum in which they can compare their own private journeys as critical learners, adults come to realize that what they thought were idiosyncratic incremental fluctuations in energy and commitment, morale sapping defeats suffered in isolation, and context-specific barriers preventing change, are often paralleled in the lives of colleagues. This knowledge, even if it fails to grant any insights into how these feelings can be ameliorated or how these barriers might be removed, can be the difference between resolving to work for purposeful change whenever the opportunity arises, and falling prey to a mixture of stoicism and cynicism in which staying within comfortably defined boundaries of thought and action becomes the overwhelming concern. Alerting adults in critical process to the impending prospect of feelings of impostorship and lost innocence, to the risks of cultural suicide, to rhythms of roadrunning, and to the importance of community as a counter to the alienation these may induce is also likely to ease educators’ ethical qualms when they are accused by students of not telling them the whole story about critical reflection. Many of us have felt the angst ridden indignation of adults wash over us as they complain that they have been duped into critical reflection with rhetorical but as yet unfulfilled promises of emancipatory release from distorted, constraining perspectives. As learners ride the storm waves of personal, professional, and political dislocation critical reflection involves – when all they are aware of is the havoc it is creating in their lives – their feelings of insecurity and their sense of uncertain leave-taking can easily turn into expressions of anger and betrayal at the instigator of this process, that is, at the educator. Educators need to know (if they are going to have a minimal sense of having behaved ethically and therefore have the fortitude to continue in their work) that they have engaged in full disclosure with learners about what might happen to them as they start to challenge their own, and others’, taken for granted wisdoms and rationalizations. Full disclosure – the attempt by educators to make as clear as possible to learners the qualities, risks, and likely consequences of the experience as they are in critical process reduces adult educators’ temptation to blame themselves when “negative” aspects of these appear. Too many of us who work with adults feel such a need to engage in humanistic
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affirmation of learners that any expression by people that they are not at all puzzled, saddened, frightened or angered by what is happening to them is perceived by us as evidence of our own lack of sensitivity. Because of our awareness of past humiliations in adults’ educational life histories, we may feel a desire to wash the process of critical reflection clean of any stain of negativity. When, inevitably, stains appear, we suffer pangs of remorse at our inability to dignify and honor learners in a safe, respectful atmosphere. An appreciation of the phenomenography of how people learn critical reflection is one of the few hedges critical educators have against a morale sapping sense of professional failure when we see adults experiencing the dark side of critical struggle.
Adult Educational Exemplars The literature of leadership, and adult education, contains several well-documented examples of exemplars of adult critical reflection. Martin Luther King, Jr. was remarkable for his ability to reflect critically on the civil rights movement and his leadership. His vision focused on justice, nonviolence, and human dignity, and despite his occasional missteps, his life and leadership consistently mirrored this vision. When he believed that civil rights were not enough and that economic rights must also be embraced, he spoke out boldly. Similarly, when the contradiction between his advocacy of nonviolence and his silence on the War in Vietnam grew too intense, he again spoke out against this war. What we know about the behind the scenes deliberations that preceded these decisions shows King carefully scrutinizing his own leadership and that of his advisors for evidence of inconsistencies and failures to live out the vision that together they had so scrupulously charted. Taylor Branch meticulously charts this critical reflection in his trilogy of America in the King Years – Parting the Waters (1988), Pillar of Fire (1998), and At Canaan’s Edge (2006). Another example is the leadership of Myles Horton at the Highlander Folk School. Myles tried hard to live the idea that whatever he wanted or sought for himself should be similarly attainable for everyone else. He affirmed many times that no right or privilege should be accorded to the few but that such things must always be enjoyed by the many. As he put it, “You can’t have an individual right. It has to be a universal right. I have no rights that everybody else doesn’t have. There’s no right I could claim that anybody else in the world can’t claim, and I have to fight for their exercising that right just like I have to fight for my own” (Horton and Freire 1990, p. 105). He lived this belief by insisting on the full integration of Blacks and Whites at Highlander workshops and by giving everyone at Highlander gatherings the same opportunity to participate and to articulate strategies for promoting equal rights in their home settings. This striving for self-consistency, for keeping thought and action in line, was the result of intense and probing reflections on what it meant to practice democracy authentically. Horton learned that his voice was one among many, that his perspective must not enjoy privileged status. He learned to keep the focus on learners, and not on the facilitator; on followers, not the one provisionally designated as leader. Nelson Mandela – the first President of a fully democratic South Africa – is a third example. Although now an iconic, fully paternal figure, at one time in his life, he was officially labeled a dangerous and violent terrorist, a treasonable tool of the Communist Party. How can the same person who spend 27 years in prison for inciting violence receive the Nobel Peace Prize (in 1993)? Part of the reason for the different perceptions of Mandela is his willingness to change course as he judged circumstances had changed. To opponents, this seems like cynical expediency, to supporters a principled alertness. To those who know little of Mandela above a few glimpses of him in newsreel footage, it may seem as if Mandela is confused, lacking a firm grounding in core principles. My contention is that he practiced the critical reflection we analyze as a regular feature of his leadership.
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As a lawyer and movement leader who was eventually forced underground in his struggle for justice, Mandela faced a bewildering set of learning tasks in his exercise of leadership. He had to learn how to adapt the exercise of leadership to prison conditions, how to live with the awareness of the effects of his commitments on those closest to him (his family), how to put a guerilla army together from scratch, how to wage a campaign of sabotage without producing loss of life, how to gauge when to hold firm and when to bend in negotiations, and how to decide when concealing his intentions from his closest allies was justified. Many of his decisions centered on the appropriate use of force and different forms of coercion and manipulation. He had to come to a plausible ethical justification for taking up arms, he had to discern how best to use the external pressure of world opinion to force concessions from the apartheid regime, and he had to decide when to keep his cards close to his chest in negotiations. On this last point, even his own ANC colleagues were unaware of his initial talks with the regime that led to the establishment of universal franchise. One of the earliest assumptions Mandela reappraised concerned his belief that the movement for a free South Africa must be one in which only Black South Africans should be involved; specifically, his belief that the African National Congress (ANC) should not admit Whites as members, nor cooperate with White groups (such as the South African Communist Party) that were also dedicated to the dismantling of apartheid. This assumption was based on Mandela’s belief that the stain of racism had spread so deep into African consciousness that Whites would inevitably come to be seen as leaders within the ANC and thus come to occupy leadership positions. He felt that if Whites were initially involved as equals in the movement, they would move rapidly into leadership positions. One reason for this, he argued, was Black South Africans’ unconscious perception of White superiority that would subliminally predispose them to defer to White ideas. Mandela was also suspicious of Whites’ intent, particularly White Communists, who he believed “were intent on taking over our movement in the guise of joint action” (Mandela 1994, p. 108). Thirdly, he had an Africentric skepticism of the relevance of a Marxist analysis to the African liberation struggle. His belief at this time in his life was that “it was an undiluted African nationalism, not Marxism or multiracialism, that would liberate us” (Mandela 1994, p. 108). In the decade after the forming of the Youth League, however, Mandela experienced a number of events that caused him to revise his earlier assumption that the liberation struggle should be the preserve only of Black South Africans. The first of these was his numerous conversations with South African Communist Party members such as Moses Kotane, Ismail Meer, and Ruth First. As a result of these conversations, Mandela found that “my longstanding opposition to communism was breaking down” (p. 119) and that “I was finding it more and more difficult to justify my prejudice against the party” (p. 119). Having had his skepticism of communists weakened through conversation and observation, Mandela was prompted to initiate a self-directed study of dialectical materialism. Here, the role of literature as a lens to aid in challenging assumptions is front and center. He describes reading Marx, Engels, Lenin, Stalin and Mao and being stimulated by the Communist Manifesto and exhausted by Das Kapital. He records how he found himself drawn to the idea of a classless society, which, to his mind, “was similar to traditional African culture where life was shared and communal”. I subscribed to Marx’s basic dictum, which has the simplicity and generosity of the Golden Rule: “From each according to his ability; to each according to his needs” (Mandela, 1994, p.120). He documents how the quasi-scientific underpinnings of dialectical materialism attracted him since, in his words “I am always inclined to trust what I can verify. Its materialistic analysis of economic rang true to me” (p. 120). He also found in his reading of these texts a number of practical suggestions that seemed to him helpful to the struggles he was conducting. Finally, the Soviet Union’s support for anticolonial struggles in Asia and Africa helped explain “why I amended my views of communists and accepted the ANC view of welcoming Marxists into its ranks” (p. 121).
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As well as holding numerous conversations with Communists, and his own studies in dialectical materialism, Mandela was also prompted to reexamine his assumptions about working with Communists after reflecting on his own autobiographical experiences. The success of the mass action of March 1950, where over two thirds of African workers stayed at home, was clear to Mandela, and he was forced to acknowledge that Communists had played a significant part in planning and conducting this mass action. By the 1950’s, Mandela had overturned his earlier assumption that the ANC struggle was best conducted by Black South Africans alone, and that Whites, particularly White Communists, would inevitably take the movement over. He had come to see no contradiction between African nationalism and dialectical materialism and “found that African nationalists and African Communists generally had far more uniting them than dividing them” (Mandela 1994, p. 121). A second major assumption concerns Mandela’s strategizing about how best to bring down the apartheid system. His early activist years were spent pursuing various paths of nonviolent resistance. These included strikes, boycotts, contraventions of the pass laws (that determined where Black South Africans could travel) and stay at homes. However, events caused him to conclude that mass civil disobedience was no longer effective, and that now a campaign of armed struggle was necessary. The choice of sabotage was deliberated and considered, based on the assumption that a strategy involving the smallest loss of life would have the widest favorable reception. Mandela wrote “Because it did not involve loss of life it offered the best hope for reconciliation among the races afterward” (Mandela 1994, pp. 282). The intention “was to begin with what was least violent to individuals but most damaging to the state” Mandela 1994, (p. 274), and key to this campaign was the issuing of “Strict instructions ... that we would countenance no loss of life” (Mandela 1994, p. 283). Mandela’s approach to the struggle was always dictated by a pragmatic concern to experiment with whatever means might speed the end of apartheid. Writing about the various discussions he had held on how best to put pressure on the South African regime, he summarizes his position thus: “We should approach this issue not from the point of view of principles but of tactics, and (that) we should employ the method demanded by the conditions. If a particular method or tactic enabled us to defeat the enemy, then it should be used” (Mandela 1994, p. 127). To Mandela, nonviolence was a tactic to be used as long as the situation demanded it. If it worked, it would be used, and if not, it would be abandoned. As nonviolent tactics were met consistently with harsh violence, Mandela eventually concluded that a tactical change was warranted. In his view, “Nonviolent passive resistance is effective as long as your opposition adheres to the same rules as you do. But if peaceful protest is met with violence, its efficacy is at an end. For me, nonviolence was not a moral principle but a strategy; there is no moral goodness in using an ineffective weapon” (Mandela 1994, p. 158). The way in which Mandela examined and changed his assumption regarding the effectiveness of nonviolence illustrated his capacity to alter his exercise of leadership in response to changing circumstances. On the one hand, he frequently articulates the need for a form of collective leadership similar to Ella Baker’s notion of developmental leadership from the grass roots. Hence, one reason he gave for the move to armed struggle that was the fact that this was happening anyway as Black South Africans were forming their own military units. Consequently, the ANC needed to be the organization directing their actions. In his view “We have always maintained that the people were ahead of us, and now they were” (Mandela 1994, p. 272). Contrarily, however, he also argued that leadership sometimes involved individual leaders moving against an already agreed upon and articulated collective policy. An example of this was the deliberate break he made with ANC policy when he gave a statement to the local and national South African press in May 1961 stating that the ANC was now closing
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the chapter on nonviolent policy and moving into a different phase of the struggle – armed resistance. This readiness to forge an individual path against the wishes of ANC colleagues was also evident, as we shall see, in his later willingness to open secret negotiations with the apartheid government when there was no ANC mandate to do so. A third assumption Mandela examined concerned his conviction that because the ANC was a collective effort no one person should step away from ANC policy to pursue a maverick course of action. Mandela began to question this assumption as the ANC and apartheid government seemed locked in a stalemate. To break this impasse, Mandela embarked on a series of secret meetings with politicians from the South African government, which he chose not to reveal to his fellow prisoners or the ANC executive. This practice, which Long Walk to Freedom maintains was essential to opening the dialog the armed struggle was fought to achieve, directly contradicted Mandela’s own paradigmatic assumption concerning the collective nature of the antiapartheid movement. In this instance, the end was seen as justifying the means. This is an episode of critical reflection – a questioning of accepted assumptions regarding the operations of power and hegemony – that could not be more significant, involving as it did the future lives of thousands, even millions. Yet, this did not involve any conversations with others. Instead, it was a wholly internal process, guided only by Mandela’s personal analysis of a drastically worsening situation and the appalling future it presaged. This situation was characterized by serious impediments to any negotiations. Both sides viewed opening discussions as a sign of weakness, even betrayal of their cause, and neither would come to the table until the other made significant concessions. Mandela secretly met with Kobee Coetsee (the government’s Minister of Justice) to discuss possible common ground that could be established to open negotiations. He told no one of what he was doing and wanted the process of negotiation to be under way before any ANC members learned of it. In his reading of the situation, it was necessary to take a giant leap ahead of the organization in order to move it in the direction that he felt it must go. This was an astonishing volte-face of leadership. Mandela’s decades of leadership practice had been premised on the rock of his commitment to collective leadership. He had always argued that the ANC was a collective and that no individual was bigger than the organization. Yet, here he was, if not deliberately lying to his closest, most trusted colleagues, at least not being entirely open or truthful with them. His justification was as follows: “I knew that my colleagues upstairs would condemn my proposal, and that would kill my initiative even before it was born. There are times when a leader must move out ahead of the flock, go off in a new direction, confident that he is leading people the right way” (Mandela 1994, p. 526). Long Walk to Freedom also explores how Mandela examined and then changed assumptions he had about the role of Whites in the maintenance of apartheid. Initially, in his capacity as cofounder, and later President, of the Youth League of the ANC, he acknowledged “I was angry at the white man, not at racism” (Mandela 1994, p. 112). Through the two lenses of reading literature and conversations with allies and colleagues, (particularly individuals involved in the South African Communist Party such as Moses Kotane and Joe Slovo), he came to rechannel his anger in a different direction. He came round to the view that Whites’ behaviors and actions were caused by a system of White supremacy. If such supremacy was a systemic phenomenon, reasoned Mandela, then the people within it – oppressors as well as oppressed – were products of the system. While this did not absolve individuals of their collusion in, or direct committing of, racist acts, it did imply that such people were potentially able to change. If the system produced these behaviors then, logically, a change in the system would produce a change in behaviors. If the logic of this assumption is extended even further, it leads to the establishment of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in which the possibility of amnesty was offered to perpetrators of crimes on both sides of the struggle.
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This analysis of behavior as systemically produced – and therefore potentially open to being systematically changed – underscored Mandela’s pronouncements in the lead up to the first fully democratic South African election of 1994 (which resulted in the ANC forming the government). Mandela constantly reminded people again and again, “the liberation struggle was not a battle against one group or color, but a fight against a system of repression” (Mandela, p. 620). This reminder was a major element in his strategy to convince Whites that they had as much of a role to play in a free South Africa as did their Black fellow citizens. Upon release from prison, he faced reporters’ questions that made it plain they expected him to voice anger and hate toward Whites. Instead, Mandela claimed, “in prison my anger toward whites decreased, but my hatred for the system grew. I wanted South Africa to see that I loved even my enemies while I hated the system that turned us against one another” (Mandela 1994, p. 563). In many ways, the future of the country rested on Mandela’s ability to educate people to accept this systemic analysis. If he could persuade them of its accuracy, there was a chance that the transition to democracy could be accomplished with a minimal loss of life and relative absence of atrocities. Mandela’s readiness to reflect critically on his own assumptions regarding the practice of leadership can be seen to have had enormously positive outcomes for South Africa. Whatever the future might offer regarding subsequent assessments of his Presidency, and notwithstanding the obvious problems of assuming that an autobiography stands as an objective account of history, there can be little doubt that Mandela’s practice of critical reflection affected the lives of millions. It is hard to imagine a more striking example of this aspect of adult learning.
References Althusser, L. (1969). For Marx. New York, NY: Vintage Books. Arygris, C. (1982). Reasoning, learning and action: Individual and organizational. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Basseches, M. (1986). Dialectical thinking and adult development. Norwood, New Jersey: Ablex Publishing Corporation. Basseches, M. (2005). The development of dialectical thinking as an approach to integration. Integral Review: A Transdisciplinary and Transcultural Journal for New Thought, Research, and Praxis, Issue 1, 47-63. Bourdieu, P. (1977). Cultural reproduction and social reproduction. In J. Karabel & A. H. Halsey (Eds.), Power and ideology in education. New York, NY: Oxford University Press. Branch, T. (1988). Parting the waters: America in the king years, 1954–1963. New York, NY: Simon and Schuster. Branch, T. (1998). Pillar of fire: America in the king years: 1963–1965. New York, NY: Simon and Schuster. Branch, T. (2006). At Canaan’s edge: America in the king years: 1965–1968. New York, NY: Simon and Schuster. Eagleton, T. (1991). Ideology: An introduction. London: Verso Press. Follett, M. P. (1924a). Creative experience. New York, NY: Longmans, Green. Follett, M. P. (1924b). Dynamic administration. New York, NY: Longmans, Green. Foucault, M. (1980). Power/knowledge: Selected interviews and other writings, 1972–1977. New York, NY: Pantheon Books. Giroux, H. A. (1983). Theory and resistance in education: A pedagogy for the opposition. Westport, CT: Bergin and Garvey. Gramsci, A. (1971). Selections from the prison notebooks. In Q. Hoare, & G.N. Smith (Eds.), London: Lawrence and Wishart Habermas, J. (1987). The theory of communicative action: Volume two, lifeworld and system – a critique of functionalist reason. Boston: Beacon Press. Horton, M., & Freire, P. (1990). We make the road by walking: Conversations on education and social change. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Mandela, N. (1994). Long walk to freedom: The autobiography of Nelson Mandela. Boston, NY: Little, Brown and Company. Marcuse, H. (1964). One dimensional man. Boston: Beacon. Mezirow, J. (1990). Transformative dimensions of adult learning. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.
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S. Brookfield Mezirow, J. (1998). On critical reflection. Adult Education Quarterly, 48(3), 185–198. Mezirow, J., & Associates. (2000). Learning as transformation: Critical perspectives on a theory in progress. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. More, W. S. (1974). Emotions and adult learning. Lexington, MA: Lexington Books. Newman, M. (1994). Defining the enemy: Adult education in social action. Sydney: Stewart Victor Publishing. Newman, M. (2006). Teaching defiance: Stories and strategies of activist educators. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Sinnott, J. D. (1998). The development of logic in adulthood: Postformal thought and its operations. New York, NY: Plenum, Press. Simon, R. I., Dippo, D., & Schenke, A. (1991). Learning work: A critical pedagogy of work education. Westport, CT: Bergin and Garvey. Sternberg, R.J., & Jordan, J.A. (Eds.). (2005). A handbook of wisdom: Psychological perspectives. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Tuijnman, A., & Van Der Kamp, M. (eds.). (1992). Learning across the lifespan: Theories, research, policies. New York: Pergamon. Williams, R. (1977). Marxism and literature. New York, NY: Oxford University Press.
Chapter 12
Fostering Reflective Practice in the Public Service: A Study of the Probation Service in the Republic of Ireland Carmel Halton
Probation in Ireland: A Contextual Overview The Probation Service in Ireland is a national agency working throughout the state. Regionalisation of the Service took place early in 1980, when local offices were established throughout the country around regionally distributed teams with separate local management. The supervision of offenders in the community and the provision of reports to courts are the responsibility of community-based probation teams. Specific prisonbased teams carry out work in the prisons and places of detention. While there have been recommendations to establish the Probation Service as a separate statutory entity (Expert Review 1999), to date, there has been little support for its establishment as a distinct corporate body in law. Current legislation (1907 Probation of Offenders Act) details the tasks, responsibilities and functions of the probation officer. The legislative aim of probation remains that of “advising, assisting and befriending” the offender, (1907 Probation of Offenders Act). However, in contrast, the Service in its mission statement has placed the focus firmly on public safety and protecting the public: “To foster public safety and promote the common good by challenging the behaviour of offenders and advancing the recognition and use of community-based sanctions, thereby reducing the level of re-offending” (Probation and Welfare Service 2001, p. 5).
This mission statement advances ideas of community building, public protection and crime prevention through challenging the offender’s behaviour and promoting the identification and use of community based sanctions. The responsibilities of probation officers for the management of offenders in the community are further outlined in official probation documents: “Staff of the Probation and Welfare Service are responsible for managing offenders in the community, who have been placed on probation, probation type supervision, community service and supervised temporary release. A primary focus of the work is to design, provide, promote and deliver intervention programmes, which will enhance offenders’ reintegration within their own communities and thus reduce victimisation” (Probation and W. Service 2002, p. 5).
C. Halton () Department of Applied Social Studies, University College Cork, Cork, Ireland e-mail:
[email protected] N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_12, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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Accordingly, probation is influenced by the following principles and values, “by common values and beliefs, the ethos or corporate culture that influences and is in turn influenced by the decisions and actions taken by its members” (Probation and Welfare Service 2001, p. 5). It is clearly demonstrated in these documents that the strategic objectives of the Probation Service are far reaching, presenting significant challenges in terms of the roles and service provision required of probation personnel. Furthermore, various changes in legislation support a changing role for probation personnel in Ireland. Their role in the supervision of serious offenders in the community and their engagement in more gate keeping and policing services are confirmed in more recent legislation (i.e., Community Service Act 1983; Misuse of Drugs Act 1977; Sexual Offenders Act 2001; Children Act 2001). This change in focus is also evident in probation documents, in which there is an escalating emphasis on the regulation of offender behaviour and a visible movement towards the development of a more controlling community based response to crime (Probation and Welfare Service 2001; Probation and W. Service 2002). It is important to note that in 2006, the “Probation and Welfare Service” was renamed the “Probation Service.” This renaming of the service reflects a movement towards redirecting the focus of the Service and the work of probation. On entering the twenty-first century, Probation began to direct its attention away from attending to the needs of offenders and towards responding to the wishes of victims and the wider community. Welfare principles focusing on rehabilitation and reform were superseded by justice principles emphasising retribution and punishment. These changes present real practice dilemmas for probation officers in Ireland, who, in the main, come from the welfare tradition of social work. The main challenge relates to how best to respond to the individual needs of offenders, while at the same time recognising the importance of economic efficiencies and taking responsibility for wider community interests. The balancing of “care” and “control,” responding to the often conflicting demands of the public and the needs of offenders and attending to ones obligations to the courts, to the prisons and to the profession are difficult and perplexing tasks. Referring to the duty of care to the offender, a senior probation officer commented: “Probation …was always regarded as a service which had a primary interest in the individual offender and was charged with responsibility through the courts and prisons, wherever possible, to respond to the needs of offenders. If probation officers do not have a duty of care to the individual offender, as a primary focus of the work, then they [the offenders] will be left alone within a system to represent themselves” (Senior Probation Officer, Halton 2007).
Another participant lamenting the change in direction of the Service stated: “The emphasis is on control over care. The client is no longer in partnership, treatment [is emphasised] rather than care, [the focus is on] directed rather that negotiated casework. Our work is service driven rather than needs driven. Criminals/offenders are unconnected with reviews or reports; they do not exist in latest [service] documents. We have more paperwork, less direct work, less care” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007).
A review of the literature draws attention to the ambivalence and unease associated with probation officers attempts to balance the conflicting care and control functions of their work (Innes 2003; Vanstone 2004). This ambivalence is clearly visible in state policies and practices and in recent changes to policy and procedures in the Service. In particular, the recent adoption i.e., 2006 by the Service of the LSI-R assessment frame is significant. It currently represents a compulsory assessment tool for use with all new referrals to the Service. These tools are seen by some probation officers as an attempt to remove probation further from the more traditional “caring” “assisting” and “helping” emphasis, towards a more “technical” and “management” approach to intervention with offenders, wherein risk measurement and management is a primary concern. A probation officer commenting on
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the introduction of these assessment tools stated, “they are just another attempt by the Service to control practice and practitioners.” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007) Another frustrated participant declared “We have become more like technicians, not professional practitioners” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007). Such views are supported by the work of Jones, who in a study of state social workers found that the breaking down of the professional assessment skills of state social workers to tick the box formulae was regarded as yet another attempt to remove professional discretion out of the domain of the professionals themselves. According to Jones, the movement towards the development and use of more structured, evidence-based programmes in agencies was experienced as a vote of no confidence, a lack of trust in the competency of the workforce. He maintains that movement towards the increasing bureaucratisation of social work represents a concern and a need on the side of government, to regulate the conduct of professional social workers, characterising a real shift away from the more traditional client-focused emphasis of social work. “Governments believe that social workers can’t do the job, therefore you turn it into a job that you do in boxes and you tick the boxes and do the job” (Jones 2001, p. 55). Jones’s work makes it quite clear that social workers and probation officers work within sometimes-contested organisational constraints, wherein their autonomy is limited and their work cannot be exclusively dictated by professional concerns and interests. Organisational structures place policy, legislative and financial boundaries around the construction of professional roles and responsibilities. Conflicts of priorities and of objectives between management and professionals that are difficult to discount or ignore can arise a probation officer stated: “Well it’s a shift away from Social Work. Certainly, maybe it’s an indication that the policy makers don’t see it as being essential to the role, maybe it would fit in very well with mechanical model of supervising people where the kind of personal input is very limited really. It’s more kind of a monitoring role” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007).
Contradictions in the focus and representation of the Irish Probation Service have resulted in confusion and a lack of understanding of the work. Probation officers voiced their difficulties and frustrations in this regard. “The Probation Service has to decide whether it wants to be a social work or criminal justice organisation. There are too many frustrations when you work in an organisation which conflicts with your professional values” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007).
In this regard, probation officers often find themselves mediating between organisational constraints, service user needs and professional concerns; hence, they are reminded constantly of the limitations placed on their professional autonomy and on their ability to self regulate. As probation officers and social workers work in organisations and systems in which other professionals and discourses dominate i.e., law, health and welfare, biomedicine and economics, difficulties can arise when attempting to respond to the varying demands of the different interest groups with whom they work. The location of the Probation Service in Ireland within the Ministry of Justice, under the direct authority and influence of the Minister for Justice, increases the administrative and organisational complexity of the Service. While Service management is charged with overseeing service delivery, it lacks legal and statutory recognition as a corporate entity, unlike in many of its European counterparts, specifically, Great Britain and Wales. When taken together, all of these factors test the responsiveness, creativity and flexibility of probation personnel and the capacity and resources of the Service. Undoubtedly, the task of administering a more humane service remains with practitioners, who become the human face of often-oppressive legislation and social policies. Responding appropriately in situations of change places a heavy burden of responsibility on practitioners.
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C. Halton “you sort of think certain things, certain ideals that you try and hold on to and they’re being put under constant tension about trying to work as a social worker with certain ideas, beliefs and values and so on. Then the system that we find ourselves in and the tension it creates, its not easy” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007).
Outline of the Study The author undertook a regional study of the Irish Probation Service between 2002 and 2004. The core objective of the study was to undertake an inquiry into how probation officers and their managers interpret and make sense of their work practices, within the context of a changing organisation that is reflective and responsive to change within a much broader social, political and economic climate. The sample population represent a subset of the national population of the Service. All probation officers and their managers within a designated geographical region of the country, representative of both rural and urban location, were included in the sampling frame; they were all invited to participate in the group interviews and to complete a questionnaire. Participants varied in respect of their age, gender, years of work experience, seniority, educational background and work context i.e., prisons or court teams. Use was made of a variety of qualitative research methods, to generate data that would facilitate some depth of inquiry into participant’s experiences and feelings. In a 5-month period (Jan – May 2002), six focus group discussions were facilitated, and questionnaires were circulated to all participants. Thirty probation officers and four senior probation officers participated in the focus groups, which were of approximately one and a half hours duration. Alongside the focus groups, six one and a half hour, in-depth interviews were completed with senior probation staff. The author will draw extensively from the study to identify the main concerns surfacing in the data. She will explore the contribution that reflective practice may make in terms of responding to the identified needs of staff. Finally, she will consider the opportunities and threats to probation staffs engagement in reflective practice.
Probation: Themes and Debates The Irish Probation Service is located within a wider network of organisations in the criminal justice system. On a macro level, political, social and economic agendas govern the structure of the organisation and the development of probation legislation and policy. On a micro level, the organisation’s policies and procedures influence the attitudes of probation personnel, shaping the form that their professional practice will take. Recent research demonstrates that probation personnel are experiencing a number of work pressures associated with working in a rapidly changing social and political landscape and in an organizational context in which fiscal concerns appear to dominate (Halton 2007). Probation, like social work, is a product of the rationalism of modernity and of the grand theories of Enlightenment that spoke about issues of “freedom,” “justice” and “emancipation” of all people. The demise of modernity is reflected in an increased skepticism and disillusionment with the institutions of the state and with their capacity to deliver on the promises of the Enlightenment era, including social justice and freedom for all, irrespective of class or creed (Pease and Fook 1999; Healy 2000, 2005). Unquestionably, globalisation has brought with it more pluralistic societies; it presents a formidable challenge to the institutions of the state, including social work and probation, and to the modernist agenda on which the welfare state was founded.
12â•… Fostering Reflective Practice in the Public Service
Post modernity developed on from a mounting disillusionment with the epistemological premise of modernity and from a developing cynicism with the institutions of the state. Social work theorists in the post-modern tradition speak of the world as an ambiguous, uncertain and constantly changing context, which demands a flexible, reflective and reflexive workforce, capable of responding in the immediacy of a variety of practice contexts (Pease and Fook 1999; Healy 2000, 2005; Parton and O’Byrne 2000). A postmodernist world poses many contextual, epistemological and ideological challenges, not only to the organisations and structures of the state, but to the professionals, such as probation officers, employed within these structures. The issue of risk is located at the core of postmodern concerns, and the management of uncertainty and risk has become the responsibility of social workers and probation officers, on whom responsibility for the assessment, supervision and control of risk behaviour generally falls. Traditionally, professionals in the public sector operated with a degree of professional independence and discretion. They were vested with considerable powers of self-governance in the management of their work. As was customary, professional responsibilities between practitioners and their managers were exercised in a relationship of mutual trust and respect. In this context, bureaucratic rules and structures had limited applicability. Conversely, in today’s climate of increasing public accountability, economies of scale take precedence, leading to increased scrutiny and monitoring of professional activity. As a result, bureaucratic structures and practice protocols have developed in an attempt to standardise and regulate professional practice. New rules and regulations have appeared aimed at reducing and controlling the discretionary powers of professionals. These changes are linked to a growing public demand for the exercise of greater managerial control over the activities of professionals. The increasing emphasis on “managerial power” as part of a wider process of de-professionalisation has been criticised by professional practitioners and researchers alike. According to Thompson, this movement was “associated with attempts to reduce the autonomy and professional standing of social workers” (2003, p. 172). Supporting Thompson, Winter et€ al (1999) links the devaluation, de-skilling and alienation suffered by the caring professions to these changing practices: “The late 1980s saw professional staff beginning to experience a sense of having their autonomy reduced, their decision making mechanised, their expertise fragmented and their artistry abolished” (Winter et€al. 1999, p. 193; Bolton 2001, p. xv).
Managerialism, with its focus on procedures, management by objectives, privatisation of services and the growing popularity of value for money principles, presents a formidable challenge to the more traditional welfare emphasis of Probation. Traditionally, Probation focused primarily on working with offenders and their families, using practices that stressed “relationship building” and “individual case work” (Vanstone 2004; Smith 2005). However, in a political climate favouring economies of scale, case management is superseding former casework models of intervention. A probation officer reflected “probation work has become more of a technical exercise. Relationship building with offenders has become less and less important in the work; this is very distressing for practitioners like me, who come from a social work and welfare orientation” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007). Healy observes that economic rationale is fast becoming the most important feature of public service provision, and markets are regarded as the best means of coordinating human activities. She states that in the last decade, the marketisation of the public service, driven by economic principles of consumerism, has led to the advancement of more managed services and to the rising popularity of a managerial culture within organisations like Probation (Healy 2005). Certainly, management has become an integral feature of reform of the Welfare State. Value for money and effectiveness of services has become synonymous with service provision.
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In this milieu, managers are the arbitrators and decision makers on the services they provide and their recipients. They have responsibility for achieving greater efficiency and effectiveness of service delivery (Coulshed and Mullander 2001; Healy 2005). On the other hand, probation officers work at the interface between the individual offender and society (Healy 2000, 2005; Halton 2007). Nevertheless, while working as public servants, they are also required to balance the contradictory and changing needs of the state, its workers, service users and their professional values. Pressures arise for probation officers both from organisational requirements that dictate policies and procedures, from court and prison personnel and from their own desire to retain some autonomy and professional discretion in their direct work with offenders. Taken together, these factors can work as a constraining force, placing limits around practitioners’ work practices and sometimes resulting in probation officers experiencing confusion, frustration and disillusionment in their work. As a senior probation officer with over 20 years work experience stated: “The Probation & Welfare Head Office would have their own policies on what Probation & Welfare is all about. However, prisons and courts have their own ideas on what the Probation & Welfare Service has to offer. So there seems to be an ongoing conflict between what we do, what we would like to do and what others think we should do. This has come about because the Service has not set out clearly what our role is in courts and prisons” (Senior Probation Officer, Halton 2007).
Critical of the ever-increasing restrictions and constraints on professional autonomy, another probation officer remarked: “More are more we are being dictated to by managers and other professionals. Every day we encounter more restrictions on what we can do. Our professional autonomy and decision making has been seriously curtailed. It can be so frustrating working in this organisation” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007).
Developing and Promoting Opportunities for Reflective Engagement In an uncertain world in which risk abounds and the management and control of risk has become a priority, the blurring of personal and professional boundaries may result in professionals resorting to apparently safer, more technical and routinised organisational procedures and tasks in the performance of their duties and responsibilities. Consequently, the challenge for practitioners and their organisations is to develop reflexive structures and support mechanisms that challenge the more technical construction of practice and that help to foster a more reflective approach to practice in situations of risk and uncertainty. According to Gould, the reflective paradigm offers to practitioners a way of responding reflexively in situations of risk without the necessity of having to resort to more mechanised, routinised practices (Gould and Baldwin 2004). Winter and co-workers writing critically about the increasing bureaucratisation of the caring professionals, also maintain that reflective practice offers a way of redressing the routinisation and mechanisation of practice and the increasing demoralisation of the caring and teaching professions: “The reflective paradigm assembles its theoretical resources in order to defend professional values, creativity, and autonomy in a context where they are generally felt to be under attack from political and economic forces which threatened to transform the professional from an artist into an operative” (1999, p. 193).
Learning is at the heart of reflective practice, and according to Gould, in a learning organisation, much learning needs “to be ongoing and embedded in the organisational
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context” (2004, p. 4). He places practice learning at the heart of the learning agenda and challenges conventional opinion that learning in the workplace is gained primarily from workers participating on external courses. Gould supports the view that workplace learning is vital to the learning agenda of both practitioners and organisations. He stresses the importance of “the relationship of formal knowledge … to practice, and the connections between individual learning or practice and the organisation. To ignore the former disregards evidence that practitioners, including social workers, are influenced by formal knowledge” (2004, p. 4).
Gould identifies practice learning as core learning, and he stresses the responsibility of the organisation in giving it legitimacy. Interestingly, very little research exists on the presence/absence of reflective inquiry in the workplace. The research that does exist emphasises the gap between practitioners’ espoused theories of action and their actual attempts to solve these problems (Argyris and Schön 1974; Schön 1983). Holding the tension between realising the learning goals of workers and responding to the needs of the organisation is complex. It is the author’s contentions that probation officers and social workers need to be equipped to respond reflexively and reflectively in practice situations that are riddled with uncertainty. In this regard, she believes that organisations have a key role to play in structuring and promoting opportunities for reflective inquiry in the workplace. The process of reflective inquiry is clearly annunciated by Loughran as: “the purposeful, deliberate act of inquiry into ones thoughts and actions through which a perceived problem is examined in order that a thoughtful, reasoned response might be tested out” (Loughran 1996, p. 21).
In accordance with this definition, reflection is a process that may be applied in puzzling situations to help the learner [practitioner] to make better sense of situations and to view situations from different perspectives. Reflection occurs, “before, during, and after an experience, and in each case that which is recognized as a problem situation may vary, as will the reflective thinking and the subsequent learning” (Ibid, pp. 21–22). The literature on reflective practice points to the importance of the organisational context and the supervisory relationship in promoting reflective inquiry. According to Schön (1983), there are two aspects of reflection i.e., “reflection in action” and “reflection on action.” Supervision provides the context in which workers are enabled to explore practice post hoc, questions related to why they acted in a particular way, and how they might act differently again to produce better outcomes. One Senior Probation officer observes: “Different approaches to supervision are required by different officers, I believe longer serving officers require a different approach. The younger officers may need more direction interspersed with reflection. The more long serving officers may need support and opportunities to reflect on the work and on their own contribution to it. They need to be actively engaged in a process that acknowledges the knowledge and experience they bring with them into supervision. They need to actively engage in making decisions around the processes and the content of supervision” (Senior Probation Officer, Halton 2007).
Clearly, the commitment of practitioners to engage with the process of inquiry is a precursor to practitioners’ engagement in reflective supervision. It helps to move supervision practice beyond the discussion and analysis of organisational concerns i.e., managerial/administrative agenda, and it facilitates practitioners to engage in critical reflection on puzzles and questions of practice (Schön 1983). However, the promotion and sustenance of reflective supervision requires an environment of mutual trust, to facilitate the mutual questioning of practitioners “theories in use.” Conversely, the author found in her study of the Probation Service poor internal systems of communication that impeded reflective engagement in the organisation. One probation officer commented:
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It would seem that in the absence of trust, supervision takes more of a surveillance role, thereby interfering with the reflective process. In the Probation Service, supervision takes place in an organisational context, consequently, probation officers’ perception and experience of the Probation Service has direct influence on their approach to supervision. The managerial culture of the Probation Service has resulted in a diminution of professional outcomes and accountability. Accordingly, the implementation of increasing and more rigorous systems and practice protocols serves to devolve responsibility for almost all aspects of professional practice back to the organisation, more specifically, to the managers who, in the main, are the supervisors of practice. A senior probation officer emphasized this point: “I see supervision as very important however, as a senior, I have not ever been happy that I would have found the balance between the person’s personal freedom of operation and the agency requirement of supervision. The whole issue of professional autonomy can be challenging in supervision. I would see the requirement of supervision as being an enabling thing rather than a controlling thing. Engaging a person in reflecting on their work and coming to a greater understanding of the work and of the processes involved is what I think supervision should be about. It’s very much then based on what the person is willing to engage with, when it becomes a controlling thing, its curtains, it is not a positive thing and it doesn’t aid any kind of personal or professional development” (Senior Probation Officer, Halton 2007).
In his work, Schön (1983) also emphasises the importance of the organisational context to promoting reflective engagement. He asserts that reflective inquiry can not only result in practitioner learning and in change but can also assist in organisational change and transformation. A senior probation officer makes important links between good quality supervision, increased worker morale and improvement in service delivery: “The morale of workers in the Service is very important and needs to be addressed. I believe ongoing staff training and development and the provision of regular, good quality supervision would go a long ways towards addressing the issue of staff morale. The morale of the service is important and the service needs to recognize that when the morale of officers is high the quality of service delivery is at its best” (Senior Probation Officer, Halton 2007).
Probation Officers as Street-Level Bureaucrats Lipsky, in his seminal work “Street-Level Bureaucracy,” undertook a study on the bureaucratisation of professionals working within a state controlled service. His work is particularly relevant to this study of the Probation Service. He identified “street-level bureaucrats” as “Public service workers who interact directly with citizens in the course of their jobs, and who have substantial discretion in the execution of their work” (1980, p. 3).
Similar to street-level bureaucrats, probation officers are providers of state services, and thus can become the focus of public scrutiny and political controversy. In their capacity as agents of the state, they exercise a social control function. At various times, they are required to deal with the tension between responding to the needs of offenders and service managers, whose needs are not always compatible. Furthermore, because of the complexity of the professional tasks and the necessity for human intervention, they will always be required to exercise discretion in the performance of their role, “To the extent that tasks
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remain complex and human intervention is considered necessary for effective service, discretion will remain characteristic of many public service jobs” (Lipsky 1980, p. 16). As a state owned and controlled service, probation practice is shaped and influenced by public policy. Legislation, court rules, the practices of the judiciary and organisational policy contribute to the construction of the roles and responsibilities of probation officers. As streetlevel bureaucrats, they experience conflicts between their organisational life and their professional values and practice orientations. Differences in orientation and practice between managers and workers can cause tension. In Lipsky’s research, managers were regarded as being more result focused, while practitioners were believed to be more concerned with doing work consistent with their own ethics and values, than with obeying agency rules. To reconcile the conflicts arising between personal and organisational values: “Street-level bureaucrats often spend their work lives in the corrupted world of service. They believe themselves to be doing the best they can under adverse circumstance, and they develop techniques to salvage service and decision-making values within the limits imposed upon them by the structure of their work” (Ibid, p. xiii).
Certainly, the Probation Service in Ireland is undergoing change at a number of levels, and this change is influencing the construction of the identity of the Service and its workers. Argyris and Schön (1996) have written extensively on organisational change. They refer to organisations that manage change well as “learning organisations.” The underlying belief behind the concept of the learning organisation is that healthy restructuring occurs only when the organisation itself engages in a re-examination of its norms in the face of a conflict of values (Coulshed and Mullander 2001). Argyris and Schön appeal to managers to support reflective practice among professionals, to facilitate healthy and responsive behaviours to change. Researchers assert that managers who are committed to furthering their own learning and continuous professional development will be more open to the promotion and development of reflective engagement throughout the organisation (Thompson 2001; Eraut 2001). Gould and Baldwin (2004) warns that individual learning alone is not a sufficient condition for organisational learning. He maintains that learning takes place across multiple levels within organisations. It involves the construction and reconstruction of meanings and worldviews. While reflective engagement can facilitate change and transition, Schön (1983) maintains that the process needs to be scaffolded and supported within the workplace. Jennings and Kennedy (1996), reinforcing this point, state that for workers to truly engage in reflection and continuous professional development, a culture of inquiry must prevail within organisations, and structures must be established to support and sustain such a culture. Argyris and Schön’s work involved an in-depth examination of organisational dynamics, specifically, the concept of organisational learning, which refers to the ways an organisation gains and assimilates “new knowledge” (Argyris and Schön 1996, p. xxi). Their work entails an in-depth examination of communication systems within organisations. In their research, they identified “double loop” communication systems within the communication structures of “learning organisations.” This “double loop” communication system contrasts with what they termed “single loop” communication systems that are found in more hierarchical type organisations. The terms “single loop” and “double loop” refer to the “communication flow” within organisations. “Single loop” communication flow refers to systems of communication within organisations in which information travels upwards and downwards within an organisation, but does not involve responsive and active dialogue between the parties concerned. Conversely, “double loop” communication flow involves an active and responsive engagement between all parties within the communication process. Accordingly, the effective management of organisational change and transition is predicated on the presence of good communication systems and structures, wherein space and time are centrally located within the change process (Argyris and Schön 1996). They assert that well-developed communication structures and processes in organisations promote
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more responsive, inclusive, communication practices between personnel, helping to bring their ideas and concerns to voice and permitting their concerns to be considered in planning and implementing change strategies. Staying with the subject of organisational change, Brearley (1992) regards the exercise of leadership as extremely important in facilitating change at all levels in an organisation. The term itself does not imply a single person, nor does it mean the same as manager. This distinction is important to stress, particularly in a climate of increased bureaucratisation, wherein management functions and responsibilities are rapidly increasing within the public service sector. Brearley makes a clear differentiation between leadership and management by referring to the tasks of management as boundary management, the objectives of which are: “to protect the internal sub-systems from the disruption of fluctuating and inconsistent demands from outside; and to promote internal changes which will enable the system to be adaptive and proactive in relation to the environment” (1992, p. 143).
She admits that achieving a balance between opposing and contradictory demands is not easy and requires specific characteristics of those who are driving the change process. Her work draws attention to the importance of the visionary influence of leaders and to the necessity for the vision to be reflective of and responsive to wider structural demands. “One task requires great sensitivity to the feelings and pressures of those inside, a capacity to identify with the nature of their work, to know the detail of it and to understand what sort of conditions it needs to be effective. The other requirement is the ability to assess the environment very accurately, to understand, and to some extent identify with its needs, to negotiate with diplomacy and to respond to the demands from the outside world in a way that is neither arrogant and defensive nor subservient and compliant” (Ibid, p. 144).
While teachers, social workers and probation officers all work as part of wider educational, social, health, welfare and penal systems, their work must be viewed in context. The work of Argyris and Schön (1996) and Brearley (1992) emphasises the interdependency of all parts within any system/organisation. Change must occur in tandem with and in response to the needs of a changing environment. Their work reveals that progress and development in any organisation is predicated on the potential of the organisation to foster reflection and to respond reflexively to identified needs and/or market forces. In this respect, the recognition that change is an ongoing and continuous cyclical process and not a once off event is extremely important. Adaptability, creativity and flexibility are regarded as the hallmarks of a successful learning organisation (Argyris and Schön 1996; Brearley 1992). The real test for public service organisations such as Probation lies in their willingness and capacity to respond reflexively to the challenges that change presents. Developing mechanisms to foster reflective practice and to engage the workforce in the change process, thereby strengthening support and reducing resistance to change, poses a challenge. Senge (1990) also wrote extensively on organisational change. He drew on systems theory to frame his structural analysis of professional human service organisations. In his work, he promoted the study of behaviours in the context of the underlying structures of systems in which behaviour is embedded. He explains his understanding of the application of systems thinking in his seminal work the “Fifth Discipline.” “Systems’ thinking is a discipline for seeing wholes. It is a framework for seeing interrelationships rather than things, for seeing patterns of change rather than ‘static’ snapshots…it is a discipline for seeing the ‘structures’ that underlie complex situations…it offers a language that begins by restructuring how we think” (1990, pp. 68–69).
The Fifth Discipline was constructed as a conceptual cornerstone concerned with: “shifting focus from seeing parts to wholes, from seeing people as helpless reactors to seeing them as active participants in shaping their reality, from reacting to the present to creating the future” (Ibid, p. 69).
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The essence of this approach to organisational change analysis lies in a shift of mind from: “seeing interrelationships rather than linear cause-effect chains, and seeing processes of change rather than snapshots” (Ibid, p. 73). This perspective involves an understanding of a concept called “feedback” that demonstrates the reinforcing or counteracting possibilities of actions on each other. This concept of “feedback” provides a theoretical frame and a language for describing “rich” and “textured practices” and patterns of change in organisations (Ibid). It refers to patterns of movement and change that are cyclical. Senge’s theory of the Fifth Discipline, while acknowledging the influence of institutional structures on identity formation, helps to situate people within organisations as active participants in shaping their reality and not helpless reactors, mere functionaries of those systems. His concept of feedback corresponds with the “double loop” theory of Argyris and Schön (1996), who represent cyclical constructions of communication patterns and flows in organisations. People are positioned at the centre of these models; they occupy a central role within any analysis of the organisation or structures in which they are located. The communication structures within organisations, whether representative of single or double loop systems, characterise the organisations hierarchical orientation. In a more recent study, Thompson (2003) argued that an organisation both creates and is created by the interplay between organisational structures and the views and actions of individuals/practitioners. This dynamic perspective claims that the boundaries of an organisation are created and reinforced in context, by the actions of relevant actors. Consequently, any study of an organisation must take into account how the views and actions of its workers are accessed and responded to within the organisation, and how they are regarded alongside the views and actions of other related and relational actors within the system. An understanding of organisational culture is, according to Thompson, important when it comes to explaining the development of norms and values within an organisation. When studying the Probation Service, one cannot escape the systemic reality that each change or proposed change to the organisation is both reflective and reflexive of systemic change within a wider socio–political landscape, and within the network of services and personnel in the criminal justice system. The Expert Review (McCarthy 1999) represents the most comprehensive review of the Irish Probation Service to date. It sketches out the complex network of relationships within and between constituents in the criminal justice system, and draws attention to how change to any one element of the system exerts influence throughout the entire system. Applying systems ideas to an organisational analysis of the Probation Service, it follows that probation personnel are primary actors, not only in representing and reinforcing its traditions, but also in shaping the present in relation to their interpretation of the past (Healy 2005).
Fostering Reflection in the Irish Probation Service: Opportunities and Threats The author will draw from her study of the Probation Service in Ireland (2007) to illustrate and explore some of the opportunities and threats to reflective engagement in the organisation. The data gathered in this study supports the work of other researchers in Britain who found a high degree of vocational commitment among probation staff (Farrow 2004). However, an escalating bureaucratic and managerial culture that was increasingly interfering with professional autonomy and restricting regional independence presented a real source of concern and discontent to participants. Many participants referred to the growing challenge in Probation to the ethos and values of social work. In particular, they referred to the threats posed to the profession and to
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organisation by penal and political discourse becoming progressively more punitive and controlled in its language and intent. Notably, the language of probation was beginning to change. The language of criminal justice and probation policy, popular in Great Britain since the middle of the twentieth century, was fast becoming the language of criminal justice policy and probation in Ireland, e.g., changing behaviour, reducing risk, protecting the public and supporting victims. In addition, participants referred to a worrying increase in the use and acceptance of the language of “control” and “surveillance” in service documentation and discourse. Probation officers revealed the struggles they experienced in their efforts to maintain their professional identity in an increasingly bureaucratised service, in a rapidly altering political and penal landscape. “Working within a system (court and justice system) that does not share social work values is really difficult)” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007). Another probation officer highlighted the problems he experienced: “There is a conflict between social work values e.g., respect for individuals and their uniqueness and the courts emphasis on upholding the law. The assist, advise and befriend motto challenges the new mission of the Service to control, monitor and punish. It’s all very difficult for us probation officers at this changing time” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007).
The study illustrates that adjustments to the organisation and management structures of Probation are necessary in order to address the concerns of participants who are seeking a more democratic, collegial and collaborative ethos than that currently exits. “We need to be engaged in active dialogue with managers and with each other about our work” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007). The introduction of communication systems to accommodate and facilitate contact between personnel within the Probation Service and with organisations and personnel working in the criminal justice system was regarded as critical to fostering reflective engagement within the organisation. “We need to be talking to each other and to other people in the criminal justice system, if we are to be influential in getting our voices heard and getting a coherent message across” (Senior Probation Officer, Halton 2007). The hierarchical structure in the Service was seriously criticised: “I perceive it as top down. We have very little dialogue-personal communication with service management” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007). Poor communication between different grades was widely acknowledged as having an adverse influence on worker morale and as threatening reflective practice. “There is a lack of bottom up approach to policy and practice development, in that basic grade officers have no input into policy or decision making” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007). Participants identified supervision as important in terms of promoting workers ongoing professional development: “We need regular supervision to reflect on our work and to improve our work practice” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007). Connections were made between restrictive organisational structures and workers ability to develop agency of their work practices. They stressed the importance of going beyond inflexible customs and traditions that made communication difficult within the Service and between the Service and other criminal justice agencies and personnel. “We need to develop better structures of communication and procedures within our service and between our service, the courts and criminal justice personnel, if progress is to be made” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007). Teamwork was highlighted as a way of encouraging more reflective engagement in the work. “Meeting and talking together gives us the support we need to reflect on our work, to give it more serious consideration” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007). While improved communication technology was regarded as critical to reflective engagement, a change in the attitudes of management towards engaging in face-to-face communication with staff was also advocated. “We need to feel included and that we are being listened to” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007). Another participant stressed the importance of valuing practitioners voices, “the organisation must value what we have to say, after all, we carry out the duties and tasks of the organisation that has to count for
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something” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007). A more democratic organisational structure and style of management is needed, incorporating sophisticated systems of communication feedback, wherein workers at all levels in the Service can be actively engaged in dialogue and discussion on matters pertaining to policy and practice, thus moving it closer to the prototype of a “learning organisation.” In today’s fast moving environment, flexibility and adaptability are equated with successful organisations. As change is a feature of every organisation, responding to the demands of change poses many challenges. In the last 30 years, the Probation Service in Ireland has expanded and developed in terms of its activities and personnel. Social and political pressures have led to a restructuring of the Service. While accepting that organisations, if they are to grow and to develop, must be responsive to the wider environments in which they are located, responding to the challenge of change is never easy. In the authors study of the Probation Service (Halton 2007), emerging themes of mistrust, uncertainty, disaffection and dislocation reveal some of the challenges facing the Probation Service at a time of transition. The challenge presenting for the Service relates to the organisations’ capacity to engage in dialogue and mutual sharing with personnel, at all levels, in an effort to redefine its mission and to set about the process of reconfiguring itself as a “learning organisation.” In attempting to reconfigure the Probation Service as a dynamic and responsive organisation, the work of Healy (2005) is particularly significant. She developed a model to conceptualise social work as a dynamic and contextual activity. It draws attention to the institutional context of the Probation Service, representing it as critical in terms of the sway of influence it exerts on the construction of the Service and of probation practice. The authors study made direct connections between restrictive organisational structures and the difficulties they posed for the promotion of reflective engagement. Participants believed that the provision of opportunities to engage in reflective practice would assist them in taking back more control and agency over their work. “You know the way we’re all sort of on our own – we’re watching our own patch and watching our own cases – so all our time really is taken up with that. Just keeping the show on the road there’s no room – no space for discussion, for reflection on what we’re doing, where we’re going from or where we’re going to and all of that. It’s so important for workers to have the opportunity to talk together, to reflect and to discuss our worries and concerns etc I think it helps to keep us all connected to the work” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007).
They pointed to the need to go beyond inflexible customs and traditions that only serve to impede reflective practice at all levels in the organisation. “We need to find more creative ways of working with offenders. We need to develop more working partnerships with other related services i.e., community groups, the gardai, the judiciary, education and youth workers” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007).
Mainly, participants agreed that the development and expansion of inter-agency cooperation would provide some real opportunities for reflective engagement in more preventative type work with offenders. In addition, they supported the updating and advancement of information technology to counteract the lack of cyclical communication feedback systems within the Service, thereby helping to relieve the current frustrations of staff. While technology was regarded as an important communication tool, a change in the attitudes of management towards face-to-face engagement with staff was also advocated. A greater sharing of ideas between staff in the Service was proposed as a way to improve worker morale and to increase job satisfaction: “The sharing of information, of what’s going on in other areas would help to build support throughout the Service. It would help to build morale and to develop trust. Unfortunately, there is not a ‘sharing of ideas’ culture in the Service” (Probation Office, Halton 2007).
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The relationship between the courts, the prisons and probation were consistently represented as problematic, with participants pointing to the adverse effect on the morale of workers and on the overall profile of the Service within the criminal justice system. Tensions and difficulties were attributed mainly to a lack of role clarity internally within the Probation Service, and to a resultant lack of understanding of the role and function of the Service within the wider reference of the criminal justice system. Participants advocated for a wider social recognition and acceptance of the value of community penalties and of the role of probation within that sphere of activity. They supported a shift in penal policy and practice away from the current emphasis on social control with a stress on punishment, towards a more equitable distribution of economic resources and the provision of community based, preventative services for offenders and those most at risk of offending. They believed that the Probation Service and its personnel needed to take back ownership of their work practices, by engaging in practice research and making a positive contribution to changing penal discourse. “We need to be researching our practice and publishing the results of our research. I think that this is the way forward in terms of legitimising the work of the Service” (Probation Office, Halton 2007). The connection between practice research and continuing professional training and development was emphasised. “There is a lack of commitment for continual professional development and for in service training to keep up to date with new practices and developments. Our service is falling behind in relation to other agencies who are developing new programmes and strategies for working with offenders. We have suffered from a lack practice based research and from not having specified officers to be involved in developing new programmes or ways of working with offenders” (Probation Office, Halton 2007).
Participants advocated for greater engagement between the management of the Service, the judiciary and other criminal justice personnel in an effort to change the current punitive emphasis in penal discourse and court practices and to promote more community based responses to offending, such as probation. One participant remarked: “There is a lack of commitment from government to community based intervention with offenders. Priority is given to institutional incarceration. This needs to change” (Probation Office, Halton 2007).
A picture emerges of probation as a service continually responding to the needs and dictates of the wider social and political environment and to the wishes of other services, specifically, the courts and the prisons. Difficulties arising in the relationship between probation and other criminal justice services have come up for serious comment and reflection throughout the research. “The Service and Probation Officers respond to the demands of judges’, prisons and the Department of Justice. We lack of overall vision for the Service” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007). Another participant reinforces this view, “We are working in an environment so lacking in democratic sharing of ideas and experiences in between these different levels” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007). In addition, staffs dissatisfaction, linked to the increased bureaucratisation of the Service, highlights the need for the reconfiguration of the Service as a more reflective, responsive learning organisation. “In this organisation I feel nobody listens, no one is interested, I do my work alone and in relative isolation from managers and colleagues” (Probation Officer, Halton 2007).
Conclusions The study data reveal that movement towards a more democratic, organisational structure and style of management in the Probation Service is crucial to fostering a reflective engagement. It needs strong leadership and sophisticated systems of communication feedback,
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wherein workers at all levels in the Service are actively engaged in dialogue and discussion on matters pertaining to policy and practice, thus moving it closer to the prototype of a “learning organisation” i.e., “an organisation that copes well with change” (Argyris and Schön 1996). Such an organisation is constantly challenging itself, redefining its mission in relation to new information. The challenge that the work of Argyris and Schon poses for organisations such as Probation, is for it to reengage with the process of redefining its mission and to reconfigure itself so that the organisation and its personnel are pursuing shared objectives. This is particularly relevant in the case of Probation, wherein the author found a conflict of values between an escalating emphasis on social control, reflected in the mission of the Service, and the stated humanistic value base of its probation personnel. It is the author’s view that these conflicts can serve to weaken worker morale and thus pose a real threat to the future of the Service. A study of the intricacies of the organisational life of the Probation Service reflects varying levels of complexity i.e., structural, organisational and personal. Unfortunately, there are no easy solutions to the challenges represented in this chapter. It is clear that one cannot simply reduce the situation to a matter of the rational pursuit of “business objectives” or “strategic aims” as represented in probation documents, for example, the Probation and Welfare Service (2001), and the Probation and W. Service (2002). Difficulties undoubtedly emerge when an organisation pursues aims and objectives that are located in a business and economic world and that do not take into account the traditions of the organisation and the needs of its workers. When studying the Probation Service, it becomes apparent that the organisation interfaces at all times with the wider socio–political environment. As this study demonstrates, the consequences for an organisation and its workers when oppositional forces converge are significant. Undoubtedly, if Probation as an organisation is to grow and develop as a learning organisation, it must respond to the wider social and economic changes that inform the work and influence its operation. In addition, if the Service is to move forward into the future and become a reflective, responsive organisation, it must develop communication structures and mechanisms that are inclusive and that take account of the needs of workers and the governing ethos and values that guide its work with offenders. In moving towards the reconfiguration of the Probation Service as a reflective organisation, supporting practitioners reflective engagement, it is the author’s contention that the Service must begin to reconfigure itself in accordance with a social constructivist paradigm, which sees opportunities for change as constructed through relationships and not in the development of more bureaucratic and managerialist type organisational structures. In accordance with social constructivism, discourse is the primary route to uncovering the dynamic interplay between constituents within an organisation. Therefore, opportunities for discourse must be encouraged and facilitated, as they are critical to developing an understanding of organisational life. The Irish Probation Service is a human service organisation mainly employing professionally qualified social workers. One of the objectives of the author’s study (2007) was to examine the texts of participants and to uncover the frameworks of understanding that helped them to make sense of their practice at a time of organisational and societal change. An overarching concern was to discover how participants structure and shape their understandings of their work practices in a public service organisation. Investigating the opportunities for workers to engage in reflection and to become actively involved in the construction of meaning around their practice was a central concern. In examining the texts of participants, the author sought to discover the relationships and processes that influence the construction of their professional identity. In essence, the author set out to develop a more informed understanding of how participants went about the business of constructing their professional identity within a hierarchical, bureaucratic public service organisation, in which, de facto, law is the dominant discourse. Moreover, they are not an autonomous professional group, and professional considerations and concerns are not legislated to take precedence (Healy 2005).
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Healy’s work views participants as active agents in changing epistemologies of practice. Similar to Gould and Baldwin (2004), it emphasises the value of practice knowledge, formed in practice. It legitimises practice wisdom and places it alongside formal theoretical knowledge. The framework of knowledge construction is dynamic, relational and situated in discourse. It positions participants as active agents in their identity construction (subjects) and not as passive recipients of laws and directives (objects). The study demonstrates that probation staffs are struggling with their identity. The challenge presented relates to the service’s ability to forge a new and coherent identity that reflects the professional social work profile of its workers and that is responsive to the changing cultural context in which it is located. Winter et€al. (1999) are strong in their support of reflective practice and the opportunities it affords workers to make sense of their work practices in a rapidly changing and complex work environment. They believe that fostering reflective practice in organizations offers a way to redress the routinisation and mechanisation of practice and the increasing demoralisation of professional personnel in the public service. The texts of some of the participants show evidence of staffs demoralisation and frustration. However, the texts also demonstrate that participants were actively seeking to forge a strong identity for the Service within the criminal justice system. The author claims that the promotion of more opportunities for the participants to engage in reflective conversations within the Service and between the Service and other criminal justice personnel is critical to its future success. She supports Healy (2005) in her assertion that the adoption of the shared values of the social work profession will help to build shared identities and to forge relationships within the organisation and between other criminal justice organisations and personnel. As one participant reflected: “If we are to be a recognised and respected voice in the criminal justice system, we need to have professional status as a service and all probation workers need to have a professional qualification. In the interests of the offender, we need to be a respected voice on their behalf, within the system” (Senior Probation Officer, Halton 2007).
The Probation Service must ensure that its mission recognises the wider social context in which it is located. Additionally, it must reflect and respond to the views and social work training of its personnel. A central aim of the Probation Service must be to ensure that its culture and structure serve its overall strategy. As Coulshed and Mullender state: “Too much attention to structure or culture alone can result in an inward-looking enterprise in which nobody actually has a clear idea where they are going or how to get there, so strategy from the top is also important” (2001, p. 51).
The study challenges probation managers to take heed of the voices of its workers by engaging them in reflective conversations, thereby, as Healy (2005) proposes, positioning them as active agents in changing epistemologies of practice. Undoubtedly, flexibility, creativity and adaptability will be demanded of the Service and its workers in the twentyfirst century. Its future success will depend on a number of factors i.e., its ability to forge a strong identity, to foster practice that is more reflective and to develop relationships within the Service. In addition, working alongside other professions in a criminal justice system will continue to pose many challenges; it is here that the values and principles of social justice and the welfare of offenders will be in danger of being subsumed by the dominant discourse of law and the populist language of social control. Finally, the author set out to present a way forward for the Probation Service that poses a substantial challenge to current conceptualisations of the organisation and the management structures that prevail therein. She believes that the Service must re-examine its mission, if it is to become a dynamic, responsive learning organisation, in which workers are actively constructing meaning in their work, and contributing to the construction of a shared professional identity. It must provide communication structures wherein the voices of its workers can be heard, and in so doing, foster a more inclusive, responsive and reflexive working culture that will be in the ultimate interests of all concerned.
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References Argyris, C., & Schön, D. (1974). Theory in practice: Increasing professional effectiveness. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Argyris, C., & Schön, D. (1996). Organisational learning 11: Theory, method and practice, reading. Boston, MA: Addison-Wesley. Bolton, G. (2001). Reflective practice. London: Chapman. Brearley, J. (1992). Community and organisation: Managing the boundaries at a time of change. In S. Baron & J. Haldan (Eds.), Handicapped persons communities. Aberdeen: Aberdeen University Press. Coulshed, V., & Mullander, A. (2001). Management in social work. Basingstoke: Palgrave. Eraut, M. (2001). Learning challenges for knowledge based organisations. In J. Stevens (Ed.), Workplace learning in Europe. London: Chartered Institute of Personnel and Development (CIPD) Farrow, K. (2004). Still committed after all these years? Morale in the modern-day probation service. The Journal of Community and Criminal Justice, 51(3), 206–220. Gould, N., & Baldwin, M. (eds). (2004). Social work critical reflection and the learning organisation. Aldershot: Ashgate. Halton, C. (2007). Making sense of probation: Changing contexts and constructions of probation practice in Ireland. PhD Thesis, UCC Healy, K. (2000). Social work practices. Contemporary perspectives on change. London: Sage. Healy, K. (2005). Social work contexts: Creating frameworks for practice. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Innes, M. (2003). Understanding social control. Buckingham: Open University. Jennings, C., & Kennedy, E. (1996). The reflective professional in education. London: Jessica Kingsley. Jones, C. (2001). Voices from the front line: State social workers and New Labour. British Journal of Social Work, 31, 547–562. Lipsky, M. (1980). Street-level Bureaucracy. Dilemmas of the individual in public services. New York: Russell Sage Foundation. Loughran, J. (1996). Developing Reflective Practice: Learning about Teaching and Learning through Modelling. London: Falmer Press. McCarthy, B. (1999). Final Report of the Expert Group on the Probation and Welfare Service. Dublin: Department of Justice Equality and Law Reform. Parton, N., & O’Byrne, P. (2000). Constructive Social Work; towards a new practice. Basingstoke: Macmillan. Pease, J., & Fook, J. (eds). (1999). Transforming social work practice. London: Routledge. Probation and W. Service. (2002). Probation and welfare service business plan 2002–2003. Dublin: Probation and Welfare Service. Probation and Welfare Service. (2001). Strategy statement advancing our aims 2001–2003. Dublin: Probation and Welfare Service. Schön, D. (1983). The reflective practitioner: How professionals think in action. New York: Basic Books. Senge, P. (1990). The fifth discipline: The art and practice of the learning organisation. New York: Doubleday. Smith, D. (2005). Probation and social work. British Journal of Social Work, 35, 621–637. Thompson, N. (2001). Anti-discriminatory practice. Basingstoke: Palgrave. Thompson, N. (2003). Promoting equality (2nd ed.). Basingstoke: Palgrave. Vanstone, M. (2004). Supervising offenders in the community. A history of probation theory and practice. Aldershot: Ashgate. Winter, R., Buck, A., & Sobiechowska, P. (1999). Professional experience and the investigative imagination: The art of reflective writing. London: Routledge.
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Part IV
Facilitating and Scaffolding Reflective Engagement: Considering Institutional Contexts
Part IV of this Handbook opens for consideration the importance of contexts in promoting reflective engagement. This is especially important if valued pathways can be identified and seen as ways to reflective inquiry. How can these be introduced, set in motion to be taken-up, tried out? Here in Chapters 13, 14, and 15 three models, unique methods of collaboration and investigation, are presented: (1) working with young children, identifying how to study their thinking; (2) examining how teachers themselves can join together to study school reform; and (3) how a practice of inquiry, called “rounds,” similar to medical rounds, can be a significant experience in reflection when shared by teachers from a wide range of institutional levels through a common endeavor.
Chapter 13: Child Study/Lesson Study: Developing Minds to Understand & Teach Children In this chapter, Joan Mast and Herb Ginsburg identify Lesson Study as a model of intensive study by elementary, K-4 teachers, of students’ mathematical thinking. Lesson Study is a method originating in Japan, which focuses on studying children’s thinking and has been carried out for several decades. This chapter reveals the practice of Lesson Study, provides vignettes of teachers and students engaged in it, and indicates how cognitive science enters into it. In their work, Mast and Ginsburg introduce the clinical interview of students – a technique pioneered by Jean Piaget – as a means to encourage teachers to see students in new ways and to understand their minds. In brief, in the clinical interview, the interviewer poses a specific math problem for the child and asks him/her to think out loud when solving the problem. As the child proceeds, the interviewer begins to put together hypotheses about what the child is doing. The interviewer can then ask new questions while making further observations, all the while treating the child with respect. The idea that teachers need to anticipate student responses, concepts, and strategies are critical to effective teaching. Clinical interview techniques can and have been used in all kinds of situations across professions.
Chapter 14: Cultivating and Scaffolding Reflective Practice In Chap. 14, authors Michaelann Kelley, Paul Gray, Donna Reid, and Cheryl Craig shift the context to the initiatives of teacher themselves in studying and documenting their experiences in learning and teaching. The authors of this chapter are teachers who have worked together over several years and witnessed profound changes in their schools, many the result of reform movements taking place in schools. Here their descriptions of what takes
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place, its political and social contexts, are explicitly examined, and results are identified. These reporters offer insightful observations in their investigation of the workings of reform – as context-- in schools.
Chapter 15: Reflection in the Round In this chapter, Steve Seidel of Harvard’s Project Zero describes the process of Educational Rounds he initiated to facilitate groups of teachers in studying student and teacher work. Taking a leaf from Medical Rounds, Seidel opened his classroom at Harvard to an eclectic group of people to gather on the first Saturday morning of each month for Rounds. In his chapter, Seidel describes the history and the process of Rounds and its potential to support a group’s reflection. He also gives a description of what a participant might experience. The power of simply stopping to learn how to describe a student’s piece of work is quite powerful. Hearing multiple views and observations has the effect of widening perspectives. Seidel’s descriptions are refined enough to support those who would like to start such a program, even just try it out.
Chapter 13
A Child Study/Lesson Study: Developing Minds to Understand and Teach Children Joan V. Mast and Herbert P. Ginsburg
The goal of this paper is to introduce a new method of professional development called child study/lesson study (CS/LS). The work draws on basic principles of professional development, Japanese lesson study, and the use of clinical interview to study cognitive process and learning. The paper discusses the CS/LS model through a case study showing how the clinical interview transforms the practice of lesson study by providing teachers with the opportunity to gain more insight into their students’ mathematical thinking than is obtained from observing students’ behavior during the lesson itself. This professional development model engages teachers in reflective practice as together they work at making sense of teaching and learning in their respective classrooms. Teachers examine the complexities of classroom practice through collaborative lesson planning, peer observation and feedback, video review of their own lessons, and examination of student clinical interviews. Furthermore, clinical interviews provide teachers with valuable feedback on how students make sense of what the teacher is trying to teach. Teachers discover that what they are trying to teach is not necessarily what students are trying to learn.
Professional Development There is a growing body of research strongly supporting professional development for teachers, which is situated in practice, is ongoing, promotes collaborative inquiry and critical discourse, and is focused on improving student learning (Ball and Cohen 1999; Cochran-Smith and Lytle 1999; Darling-Hammond and McLaughlin 1999; Lyons and LaBoskey 2002). Yet, the 2008 report from Council of Chief State School Officers (CCSSO) found that teacher professional development programs in fourteen states did not meet these standards (as cited in Garet et€al. 2001; Desimone et€al. 2002; Corcoran and Foley 2003). The report accentuates the urgent need to implement forms of professional development designed to improve educational practices and promote student learning. Craig and Olson (2002) present a compelling argument for creating knowledge communities in which, “… teachers explore the upside and downside of their experiences, making their practices transparent and their knowledge public in the presence of others” (p. 117). The process of transformative change begins in these knowledge communities rather than in the larger “system,”
J.V. Mast(*) Scotch-Plains Fanwood Public Schools, Scotch Plains, NJ, USA e-mail:
[email protected] N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_13, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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in which organizational policy and structural obstacles tend to maintain the inertia of conventional educational practice. Perhaps professional development needs to embrace Margaret Mead’s conviction, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”
Lesson Study Lesson study, a professional development model utilized in Japan, incorporates key characteristics of effective professional development by providing participating teachers with a distinctive type of knowledge community. Lewis and Tsuchida (1998) propose that the shift in Japanese pedagogy from “teaching as telling” to “teaching for understanding” is a direct result of lesson study. Through the lesson study process, teachers jointly plan, observe, and analyze actual classroom lessons called “research lessons.” Furthermore, in lesson study, teachers establish long-term goals for education and also establish goals for a particular subject area, unit, and lesson. The “research lesson” incorporates the proposed goals and provides the participating teachers with the opportunity to carefully study how students respond to these lessons. Lewis (2002a) explains that Japanese teachers collect evidence in a variety of areas including students’ engagement, persistence, emotional reactions, quality of discussion within small-groups, including of group-mates, and degree of interest in the task. They observe the students’ demeanor toward learning and toward one another. Lewis et€al. (2006) maintains that lesson study is not a fixed set of steps mastered in a short time. Indeed Japanese lesson study practitioners with several decades of experience maintain that a range of knowledge and skill develops over time in the areas of curriculum expertise, knowledge of student thinking, knowledge of lesson study practices, and collaborative skills and practices. Expertise in all of these areas typically requires a long-term investment in ongoing professional development. Lesson study groups bring to their work different sets of skills in key areas such as curriculum, pedagogical content knowledge, student learning trajectories, and knowledge of common misconceptions. Additionally, the groups have a range of experience in observing their peers teach and in opening their respective classrooms to their colleagues. Given the possible range of experience, lesson study needs to be customized to meet the distinctive needs of each group and to address its particular goals. Lewis (2005) raises the concern that lesson study can follow the well-known path of promising educational innovations that are discarded because they are poorly understood. She stresses the importance of understanding the essential pathways within lesson study that lead to instructional improvement. They include increased knowledge of subject matter, increased knowledge of instruction, stronger collegial networks, stronger connection of daily practice to long term goals, stronger motivation and sense of efficacy; and improved quality of available lesson plans. Fernandez and Chokshi (2005) raise the concern that, “it is relatively easy to go through the motions of doing lesson study without making it a rich and purposeful experience” (p. 73). In order to achieve effective lesson study results, practitioners need to keep their lesson study goals at the forefront of the entire process; otherwise, the learning will be incidental rather than purposeful. A consistent message in the lesson study community is that the ultimate purpose of lesson study activities is to “Yield new ideas about teaching and learning based upon a better understanding of student thinking” (Yoshida 2005, p. 5). Similarly, Lewis (2002b) states, “Developing ‘the eyes to see children’ is, in the view of many Japanese educators, the most important goal of lesson study” (p. 4). Teachers learn about students by collecting data focusing on one student or small groups over the course on an entire lesson and discussing the data collected by colleagues. As a result, teachers develop their knowledge about how students learn and about the challenges they encounter. Wang-Iverson (2005) is
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in agreement, “[Lesson study] can help teachers reach a common understanding of student thinking” (p. 20). Liptak (2005) identifies a shift that occurs in U.S. teachers, “Our instruction focuses more on student thinking and the observation of students. We are now less dependent on tests to reveal to us what our students know and are able to do” (p. 42). Takahashi (2005) states, “Being part of a planning team provides an opportunity to take a deeper look at the content and concepts that teachers intend to teach and to work toward a shared understanding of the ways in which students learn” (p. 31). Recognizing that teachers’ understanding of student thinking is a key goal of lesson study, we believe that there is a benefit to introducing a method that substantially enhances teachers’ ability to accomplish this goal. In our work, we explore the use of clinical interview based on cognitive theory as a means to assist teachers to develop not only “the eyes to see children,” but also the mind to understand them. Interviews of this type can help teachers surmount their own egocentric views of students – particularly the idea that students learn what teachers teach – and discover how students’ minds function. This approach may provide U.S. teachers, and perhaps Japanese as well, with a new perspective that can improve their teaching.
Cognitive Approach Thompson and Zeuli (1999) suggest that the underlying intent of reform in mathematics and science education is to create the conditions in which “… students must actively try to solve problems, resolve dissonance between the way they initially understand a phenomenon and new evidence that challenges that understanding” (p. 346). Because thinking is central to learning, professional development should address teachers’ ability to support students’ thinking and understanding. The National Mathematics Advisory Panel’s (NMAP) recent report, Foundations for Success (2008) includes a Report of the Task Force on Learning Processes. Here, Cognitive Science is the focus, recognizing this field as the foundational component of scientifically informed educational practice. This report emphasizes that this body of research is not being effectively used in classrooms to understand and improve student learning. Furthermore, for “additional studies that focus on the translation of cognitive measures of children’s learning into formative assessments that are easily understood by teachers and easily used in the classroom are needed” (p. 4-xv). Cognitively Guided Instruction (CGI) provides a specific example of student thinking as a key focus for professional development. This program is built on the premise that if teachers listen to students, understand their reasoning, and teach in a manner that reflects this knowledge, students will receive more effective instruction. The CGI program provides workshops that use videos to familiarize teachers with the processes that students use to solve addition and subtraction problems. This results in teachers placing greater emphasis on problem solving and improved student achievement (Sowder 2007). The clinical interview provides a powerful method to promote a focus on student thinking in lesson study. Teachers can use the method to determine whether their teaching indeed results in the kind of mathematical thinking in which they want students to engage.
Clinical Interview The clinical interview is a crucial method for getting information about individual children’s mathematical thinking and learning. The main features of the clinical interview include the following: (1) The interviewer poses a specific math problem for the child; (2) The interviewer carefully observes the child’s behavior and asks him to “think out loud”
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when solving the problem; (3) As the child’s thinking unfolds, the interviewer uses implicit or explicit cognitive theory to generate hypotheses concerning underlying strategies and concepts that might explain the child’s performance; (4) The interviewer checks the hypotheses by giving new problems, asking some critical questions and making closer observations. Throughout the process, the interviewer treats the child with respect and crafts questions responsive to each individual case (Ginsburg 1989). Clinical interviews provide teachers with the opportunity to understand the student perspective on learning mathematics. Students may view the material differently from teachers. A striking example involves learning the “equals” (=) sign. Teachers think they are teaching that it refers to equivalence, whereas students interpret it as “get the answer,” even through middle school (Seo and Ginsburg 2003; Knuth et€al. 2006). Acquiring the ability to identify and anticipate student perspectives, concepts, and strategies is critical to effective teaching of mathematics (Steffe and D’Ambrosio 1996, p. 75). Novak and Gowin (1984) state that, “… the clinical interview, when well executed provides by far the most penetrating assessment of a student’s knowledge” (p. 128). The clinical interviewer must be prepared to test hypotheses concerning the child’s thinking and to explore it. Some of the hypotheses may derive from teachers’ informal theories of children’s thinking as developed in everyday classroom interactions (Strauss and Shilony 1994); other hypotheses may derive from what teachers learned in the course of professional development or from their education courses in college or graduate school. The clinical interview is only as good as the ideas – whatever their origin – that the interviewer uses to understand student thinking. If the interviewer thinks of student mathematics only in terms of global intelligence or overall mathematical ability, then the resulting hypotheses are likely to be of little value for teaching (and for just about anything else). But if the interviewer draws directly or indirectly on relevant informal or formal cognitive theory to generate ideas – hypotheses – about a particular student’s thinking, then it may be of great value for understanding the student and guiding teaching. The clinical interview, like any assessment method, uses psychological ideas to interpret behavior. The better the ideas (for a particular purpose), the better the assessment. Fortunately, there is a good deal of research on the development of mathematical thinking that can guide teachers’ understanding of their students’ learning (Ginsburg et€al. 2006; Lester 2007). As we shall see, CS/LS helps teachers to develop productive ideas about student thinking. A transcript segment of a clinical interview (from the case study discussed later in this chapter) follows to demonstrate some of the salient points of an interview. Jim, a second grade student, was selected for the clinical interview because his teacher acknowledged that he had a lot of good ideas but he was often distracted. At the point where this interview segment begins, Jim had already responded to several tasks. I: Do you know what those fractions are? [a whiteboard showing the fractions 2/4 and 5/8 is given to the Jim] S: Two fourths and five eighths. I: I wonder if you can figure out which is the bigger? S: Two fourths (pointing without hesitation) I: And why is two fourths the bigger? S: Because two fourths is a half and five eighths is not a half so the denominator is bigger so this has to be the bigger one. [pointing to the 2/4ths]
At this point, the interviewer revealed that Jim can easily identify that 2/4 is equivalent to 1/2. However, in this segment, he seems to be only comparing the numbers of four and eight to determine the bigger fraction. Students often apply a well-intended “teacher” hint, “the bigger the number in the denominator, the smaller the size of the piece.” After engaging Jim in a variety of fraction tasks to gain insight into his level of understanding, the interviewer hypothesized that Jim could explain his thinking with a visual model. Jim mentioned pizza, so the interviewer asked him to draw two pizzas, one showing
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fourths and one showing eighths. He easily drew and shaded a circle model 2/4 and 5/8 respectively. The interviewer incorporated this model as follows: I: OK, if I ate two fourths of this pizza and five eighths of that pizza which one would I have eaten more of? S: You would have eaten more of that one, (pointing to the five eighths). Your stomach would be more full.
The interviewer was unable to completely clarify Jim’s understanding of fractions until she asked this question, “Which pizza would I have eaten more of?” Throughout this interview, Jim verbally revealed how he made sense of different tasks presented to him. He provided the interviewer with challenging responses that required careful questioning to ascertain his level of understanding. The interview revealed a level of Jim’s competence that was not apparent in the classroom. The inclusion of student clinical interviews in professional development models offers great promise for both teacher growth and student learning. For example, the Early Research Numeracy Project (ERNP) is a large-scale study involving multiple stakeholders, including 70 elementary schools in Australia (Clarke 2001). ERNP involves three main components: the development of “growth points” that reflect “key” stages in young children’s mathematical learning, the development and application of a one-to-one task-based assessment interview, and a professional development program. The individual interviews were designed to measure growth points achieved by a child in several domains of mathematics. The approximately 250 teachers who participated in this study found “that the data from the interviews reveal student mathematical understanding and development, in a way that would not be possible without the special opportunity for one-to-one extended interaction” (p. 7). These teachers also identified the following common themes that emerged from the interviews: • • • •
Surprise at what many students were able to do Surprise at some difficulties children experienced The power of the interview data in informing teaching The level of enjoyment and confidence displayed by the children during the interview
Furthermore, as a result of a focus on students’ mathematical thinking and the related professional development (addressing teachers’ understanding of the framework and interview, appropriate classroom strategies, the mathematical content, and activities for meeting student needs), many teachers felt that they increased their general knowledge of how children learn mathematics, broaden their instructional repertoire, and even improve their own mathematical knowledge. The clinical interview continues to be a widely used methodology in educational research and offers a variety of applications for K–16 educators (Ormrod and Carter 1985; Ginsburg 1997; Goldin 2000).
Major Features of Child Study/Lesson Study CS/LS is designed to provide teachers with insight into curriculum and students across grade levels, while “developing the mind” to investigate student thinking and understanding. The first feature is that CS/LS recommends the use of a vertical model in which a teacher representative from each grade level (e.g., K–4) forms the research team. Through this design, the teachers examine teaching and learning across multiple grade levels, rather than simply studying curriculum materials at adjacent grade levels. The goal is to have teachers understand the developmental trajectory of key mathematical concepts. For example, they need to learn how first grade addition derives from Kindergarten enumeration
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and, in later grades, eventually becomes transformed into methods based on place value and the base 10 system. The vertical method addresses the reality that many U.S. teachers have limited experience teaching multiple grade levels (Ma 1999). Furthermore, U.S. teachers are typically generalist rather than content specialists. The vertical model provides a “window” into how the mathematical content, the teaching, and the children’s understanding develop across the grade levels. The second feature is that CS/LS recommends that teachers create lessons using their district curriculum, supporting materials, and their own collective experience. CS/LS can be effective with whatever curriculum the teachers are required to use or choose to use. Teachers using reform curricula are no exception. When implementing reform curricula, teachers get a great deal right but can still miss the “inner intent” of the reform (Sykes 1990). Whatever the curriculum, conventional or reform-based, teachers participating in CS/LS identify their respective lessons relating to a specific topic that is sequenced through grades K–4. The teachers and a content specialist discuss the lessons, with emphasis on how the mathematical concept builds over time. Then, they formalize a series of research lessons and study them. The CS/LS research team engages in a critical analysis based on events observed in the classroom or on insights gained through the clinical interviews with students at each grade level. In CS/LS, teachers’ insights are mainly a result of studying the lesson in action rather than preparing the research lesson. In contrast, the Japanese lesson study engages in intense planning prior to the implementation of the research lesson. The third feature is that CS/LS shifts from one “research lesson” per lesson study cycle (the Japanese practice) to a series of “research lessons,” one per grade level. Again, this allows the teachers to gain a perspective on the curriculum’s scope and sequence over several years and how the prototypical child develops throughout elementary school. Additionally, teachers gain cumulative experience as “researcher” when collecting student data and participating in multiple debriefing sessions. Finally, the key feature of CS/LS is that clinical interviews are conducted with several students in each grade level after the “research lesson.” In our case, an elementary supervisor with relevant experience conducted the interviews. Each teacher then reviews and analyzes the interviews of her students. During the following debriefing session, the teacher shares the insights she gains from the interviews. Additionally, she identifies portions of the video that she finds most interesting to discuss with the research team. The inclusion of the interview reinforces the idea that a major focus of the research lesson is the students. When we initially conducted lesson study prior to utilizing the interviews, some teachers found it difficult to report on observed student behavior; instead they might talk about the bulletin boards or how neat student desks appeared. The introduction of the interview appeared to act as a stimulus for purposeful discourse about student thinking and learning.
The Basic Cycle The CS/LS method first requires establishing a research team consisting of teachers from each grade in a given elementary school. During the introductory meeting, the group establishes goals for student learning and long-term development (Lewis 2002b). These goals can be related to the district’s mission statement or character education. Next, the research team selects an area to study. This can be a mathematical concept with which the students seem to struggle. Also, they can utilize assessment data to identify curriculum areas in need of intensive study. Finally, the research team selects a series of “research lessons.” In this segment, the teachers select related lessons from each grade level. For example, if a research team selected geometry as an area of focus, they might look at the skills and concepts students accumulate through the elementary grades to gain proficiency related to area and perimeter. Each teacher at each grade level would present a lesson from the district’s
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curriculum, create a lesson plan, and discuss his or her plan with the research team. When making modifications to “scripted” lesson plans, the teacher provides a rationale for the changes, and the research team can provide feedback. Over a period of several months, each teacher will teach her research lesson, while all members of the research team observe the lesson and gather evidence of student thinking and understanding. This lesson is also videotaped, allowing the teacher who is teaching the lesson the opportunity to reflect on her lesson from the perspective of the video camera. A research team debriefing session follows the teaching of each research lesson. This includes a thorough discussion of observations on student thinking and understanding made by each member of the team. During each debriefing session, several students are selected by the research team to participate in clinical interviews that are videotaped. In our case, the interviewer was an elementary supervisor who had received special training in the method. We deliberately chose three types of students at each grade level: a student who performs well in mathematics, a student who often encounters difficulties, and a student who the teacher suspects may offer interesting responses of various kinds. Each grade level teacher reviews all three of her students’ interviews. During the next debriefing session, she discusses her reflections on the interviews and selects segments of the interviews to show to the entire research team. Each debriefing session includes discussion of both the lesson and the clinical interviews. Additionally, each teacher is given the opportunity to discuss any new insights she gained from reviewing the video of her research lesson. In summary, when a teacher volunteers to join the research team and participate in CS/ LS, he or she is agreeing to participate in the following activities: • Collaborating with colleagues to establish a goal and a topic for study • Planning a “research lesson” • Opening her classroom as a data collection site on student thinking and understanding, as well as on teaching • Participating in debriefing sessions in which she provides and receives feedback from her colleagues based on her observations of teaching and learning • Reviews and discusses her analysis of three clinical interview videos of his or her students • Reviews and discusses insights from watching the video of his or her own “research lesson”
A Case Study: The Matson School We implemented CS/LS with a group of K–4 teachers at the Matson School. We were interested in exploring the extent to which the model increased teachers’ understanding of students both through classroom observation and the clinical interviews. Also, we were interested in how it might influence teachers planning and execution of lessons. Finally, we were interested in the content and depth of the discussion of student learning and thinking during the debriefing sessions.
Demographics The Matson School, serving students from Kindergarten to Grade 4, is part of a New Jersey public school district serving over 5,000 students in grades K–12. The district has supported lesson study for five years as a part of the district’s professional development plan. The superintendent and the elementary principles value lesson study as a model for
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professional development, and they show support by providing teachers with release time to participate and sometimes join in the process themselves. Additionally, the district has content supervisors who support the CS/LS model. The Matson School meets the criteria for a passing school under the No Child Left Behind criteria. All of the participating teachers have a minimum of a masters degree. The average number of years teaching is 15.67, and the average number of years each teacher taught her current grade level is ten. The district uses Everyday Mathematics as its board-adopted curriculum.
Methods This was an exploratory qualitative case study in which data were collected through transcripts of teachers’ debriefing sessions, post-study questionnaires, clinical interview observation forms, and transcripts of student interviews. Participants in this study included six teachers representing grades Kindergarten through Grade 4, the building principal, and the elementary supervisor. We examined patterns that emerged throughout the study and describe our findings in terms of several major themes.
What Did We Learn? First and foremost, the process does indeed help teachers deepen their understanding of students’ knowledge and competence. Clinical interviews provide teachers with the opportunity to gain deeper insight into their students’ mathematical thinking than do observations of students during the lesson study component of the CS/LS. During the debriefing session discussions, four out of the six teachers stated that they gained insight into their students’ thinking through responses that students gave during the interviews. In response to a Clinical Interview Observation Form, teachers stated that they learned something new about student thinking on 14 of 17 opportunities. Further, the clinical interviews revealed in two cases that the performance of minority students exceeded the teacher’s expectations and also the students’ performance during class. The following comments are from the classroom teachers of these two minority students: A new observation through the clinical interview was how he talks himself through problems. Often, I think there is so much conversation in class; I think he is so distracted that he can’t hear himself think – it appears he needs this. I was surprised that he was so willing and didn’t cry!! He is surprisingly very confident and offers up a lot of dialog. He has verbally shared that he can’t do what other kids do. Here he is on his own with no “competition” that he seems more willing (if not able). It is interesting that he had a plan and was eager to show what his plan was. Faith – Grade K I think she knows more about fractions than she realizes. She is just very uncertain. She responds well to cues and hints. She is able to make the connections then. When she relaxes, trusts herself and allows herself time to think, she is able to explain her thinking quite well. Alejandra – Grade 4
The following comments demonstrate how teachers gain detailed information to assess specific skills and concepts: He didn’t seem to understand the concept of half. To him it meant a part. Charlotte – Grade K She understood equal. She used it to explain half. She definitely understood part to whole. I was surprised by the depth of her understanding…I truly think that the children can have greater knowledge than they can express. Charlotte – Grade K What surprised me was her ability to verbalize that the cookie had four parts but when asked what 3 of the four parts would be called, she replied 1/3. She can understand when the numerator is one but not more than one. Yet, she knew 2/4 was the same as 1/2. Olivia – Grade 1
13â•… A Child Study/Lesson Study I was surprised when she called 1/8 eight halves, 1/4 four halves. Olivia – Grade 1 It was interesting to see at first she said 1/8 was larger and then when she had a visual she changed her answer. Christine – Grade 2 When Betty took the cubes she was saying this is 1/5 when it was a part of a sixth. I believe she did this for two different shares of cubes. Christine – Grade 2
At the same time, we should mention that teachers sometimes felt that the interview did not provide accurate information. Two teachers out of the six felt that their students knew more than they revealed during the clinical interview. But this also served as an opportunity for the teachers to learn more about student thinking. In this case, teachers were asked to reflect on the possible reasons for the disparity between their expectations and the interview result, and to investigate the matter further.
Clinical Interview Themes Second, we learned that at each grade level, at least one student’s clinical interview encapsulated a big idea related to effective teaching and learning. These big ideas tended to dominate discussion and raise major issues for discussion. Specifically, Pam’s (Kindergarten interview) highlighted the role of student language in assessment; Emily’s (Grade 1) interview emphasized how misconceptions begin; Jim (Grade 2) demonstrated a student who was performance-oriented rather than learning-oriented; Keri (Grade 3) showed how students can use bluff to arrive at the correct answer; and Tammy (Grade 4) showed that “wait time” or “think time” can be an effective strategy for accurate assessment. The videos of these clinical interviews presented memorable images that the teachers referenced throughout the study. Some examples of these themes follow below.
Misconceptions During the Grade 1 interview, the lesson allowed students to explore unit fractions by comparing paper strips. At some point during the lesson, the teacher stated the rule, “the larger the denominator the smaller the piece.” During the lesson and the clinical interview, the majority of students were not successful when they only looked at the symbolic representation. The students need to compare the fraction strips. During the clinical interview, Emily was able to state the rule with confidence. An excerpt from her interview follows: I: Which one of those do you think is the biggest? (On a board there were three fractions, 1/2, 1/4, and 1/8). S: One half. I: Why? S: Because it has more space. (Spreads her arms out wide) I: Which one would be the smallest? S: (Points to 1/8.) I: And why? S: Because it has a bigger number on the bottom, and the bigger the number on the bottom the smaller the section
When Olivia, the first grade teacher, presented this interview clip to the research team, she said, “Emily is the only one out of the three who remembers it. The others immediately identified 1/8 as the largest number. This shows developmentally were they are at.” Erin, the building principal, presented a different perspective, “The other question this raises is the misconception that Emily brings out stating that because the denominator is bigger the
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fraction is the smallest one. This only works because they are all unit fractions having the same numerator…. it is a seed of the misconception.” The research team then discussed this topic in length. Emily’s example shows how the clinical interview added important data to the debriefing session. Without the interview, the teachers were able to discuss why students were having trouble in class if they only looked at the numbers without using the fraction strip. However, without the interview, they would not discuss what could be problematic about a correct answer. Emily’s interview did uncover a misconception that is well documented in the research. The teachers did see several students in later grades still making this error, and they had a sense of why the students held the belief. This highlighted that students sometimes develop misconceptions when they memorize rules rather than understanding concepts.
Performance Oriented Versus Learning Oriented Jim provided the research team with an example of the potential negative effect of labeling a student “gifted ” or “smart.” Dweck (2006) proposes that some students who believe they are smart are less likely to take risks and believe that they should know answers quickly. Jim entered the interview announcing he was smart and proceeded to share his knowledge about fractions before being asked any questions by the Interviewer. His teacher made the following comment after the clinical interview: He seemed comfortable with the fact that 1/2 is the largest share and 1/8 is the smallest share. It was interesting to see that he would not back down about his answer, ‘1/2 is larger than 5/8.’ I tend to agree with someone in the group who said that maybe Jim finally [saw his mistake] but wouldn’t admit it. This makes me concerned about his future as a student and learner. It is important to admit that you are wrong and learn from the experience. Christine – Grade 2
The Art of Bluff Sometimes, students infer from teachers’ facial expressions, voice inflections, or other body language what the right answer is or what the teacher would like them to say or not to say. Subsequent student behavior then gives teachers a false read on what students actually know (Holt 1982). This circumstance was observed during the “research lesson” component of CS/LS, and reoccurred during a clinical interview. The interview segment given below also demonstrates the level of skill needed to understand one child’s thinking. During the interview segment, the student reveals that she does not have a strong conviction with respect to her first answer. When the interviewer asks the student to explain why she made her decision, she changes her answer. The student then changes her persona (acts cute) and tries to read the face of the interviewer to receive feedback. The interviewer continues to ask the student to justify her reasoning. The student finds this to be a challenge. Yet, while engaged in the task (that she has been unable to avoid) and forced to respond to the focused interview, she demonstrates a firm understanding of rational numbers, even though she does not use the vocabulary of numerator and denominator. At the end of the segment, the student recognizes on her own that her first answer was correct. She refers to her answers as “chance,” which leaves one wondering if she often engages in guessing and reading the teacher’s unwitting clues. I: Can you read that for me? S: Seven thirds, nine fourths. I: And which do you think is larger? S: Seven thirds.
13â•… A Child Study/Lesson Study I: And why did you decide that? S: Actually they might be equal (with a questioning tone) I: And why do you think that? S: Because this is bigger, (pointing to the four in 9/4)…. this is bigger (pointing to the 3 in seven thirds) but this has a smaller number (pointing to the seven), but this is smaller (pointing to the four), but it has a little bigger number (pointing to the 9) so it can catch up to this. I: Do you want to test your theory? S: Yes. (She adds the appropriate number of fraction strips onto the whole unit squares for thirds and fourths) The first chance was right! I: So you proved what you were thinking? S: Yea, this was my first chance [pointing to seven thirds] so I was right the first time.
Without the visual information provided by the taped clinical interview, the research team would have found it difficult to discuss the influence of visual cues and how students can try to game the teacher. This behavior, left unchecked, certainly provides interference in gaining accurate insight into students thinking and understanding. Keri’s interview brought this issue to the forefront for the research team. We can see how Emily’s interview introduced the theme of misconception, Jim demonstrated a performance oriented interview, and Keri introduced the ideas of bluffing. The clinical interviews add a thematic element to the debriefing discourse wherein teachers then generalize the “feature” to students in general. Additional interviews highlighted wait time; two cases demonstrated instances in which students had long delays before submitting the correct answers. As a result of their one-on-one exchange with the interviewer, they demonstrated a higher level of competency than what the teacher expected. In both cases, the teacher was very pleased to see how well the students performed during the interview.
Intended Versus Implemented Curriculum Third, we learned that teachers recognized some of their own teaching problems only after seeing their unwanted effects on students. Teachers in this study occasionally modified Everyday Mathematics lesson activities in a way that reflected their own beliefs on how students learn mathematics. In some cases, when students were struggling, teachers would present rules to help individual students achieve immediate success. The rules that were observed and discussed in this study were as follows: When sequencing fractions, “The larger the denominator, the smaller the fraction.” When generating equivalent fractions, “Whatever you do to the numerator, you do to the denominator.” Lastly, students in one class were reminded of a procedure to find common denominators in order to add and subtract fractions. The Everyday Mathematics lessons were designed to help students develop an understanding of these topics through exploration. There was no reference to the above stated rules in the official Everyday Mathematics program. These examples of the use of rule show how teachers can revert to prior, often traditional teaching models to help student experience immediate success. Through the interviews, teachers were able to discover how the rules did not support understanding. This type of discovery challenges teachers’ pedagogical assumptions and is likely to convince the teachers of the value of “teaching for understanding.”
Understanding an Individual Student’s Problems Fourth, we learned that the challenges of meeting the needs of all students, and particularly of identifying effective interventions for students who demonstrated difficulty with mathematics were repeatedly reinforced through the clinical interview. Sometimes, students’
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deficiencies can be masked in the whole class experience. Some teachers in CS/LS began to understand individual student difficulties from a new perspective. Sally kept referring back to 1/2 during the interview. This was troubling me. She also has the misconception that the larger the number, the smaller the share. I feel that her response about 3/8 being larger than 1/2 is going hand in hand with the misconception that the students have about the denominator. . It is my hope that she doesn’t “fall through the cracks” as she goes through her academic career. Christine – Grade 2 I was unpleasantly surprised to hear that he still labors under the misconception that the larger the denominator, the larger fraction. I don’t think anyone else in the class has that misconception. I hope not. I was also surprised that he persevered so long. Alejandra – Grade 4
Debriefing Session Discourse Patterns Fifth, we learned about a possible danger in clinical interviewing. Initially, after the clinical interview was introduced, most discussions were specifically related to ideas about students and were isolated from the teachers’ pedagogy. Teachers typically appeared to be more comfortable discussing the clinical interviews of their students than their own lessons. On the one hand, the student focus is valuable for improving teaching. Because the discussion and analysis of student thinking is necessary to improve instruction, encouraging teachers to review, analyze, and discuss interviews of their students will provide fertile ground work to build capacity for future lesson study initiatives. On the other hand, the research team must be mindful not to diminish the importance of the lesson through the analysis of the clinical interviews. The discussion of the interviews could potentially divert analysis of teaching behavior that influences student thinking and understanding. The intent of the clinical interviews, of course, is to provide additional data to inform ongoing improvement of instruction. Throughout the debriefing sessions, both the building principal and the elementary supervisor attempted to have the teachers focus on the lessons themselves, addressing topics that were potentially sensitive. However, during the last two sessions, teachers themselves began to take over that role and identified instances of teaching activities that were not productive for all students’ learning and that may have led to confusion. Also, one teacher was able to be honest about not understanding student responses and the related explanations of her colleagues. Eventually then, the Research Team developed both trust and the ability to engage in critical discussions of their own teaching as well as of student learning.
Next Steps Recognizing that Japanese teachers have engaged in lesson study for at least fifty years (Fernandez et€al. 2003), and have a culture in place that supports this professional practice, we propose that teachers in the United States will need ongoing support at local, state and national levels to sustain work in CS/LS. Additionally, teachers will need to participate in continuous CS/LS cycles throughout their careers to sustain reflective practice and professional growth. In this study, the vertical model covering grades K–4 allowed teachers to see the progression of the fraction strand and the trajectory of student understanding over time. By combining the clinical interview with the lesson study, the emphasis on how students learn is brought to the forefront, and the focus is placed on the student rather than primarily on the teacher.
13â•… A Child Study/Lesson Study
When CS/LS becomes a part of a school culture and elementary teachers are identifying specific areas to study, they might choose to modify the model described in this study in a variety of ways. Some possibilities suggested for future work in CS/LS areas mentioned below: (a) Conduct clinical interviews prior to planning and conducting the research lesson. This would emphasize the prior knowledge and understanding that students bring to a lesson. Furthermore, it would focus the teaching on the learning potential of the students. (b) Teachers should conduct the clinical interviews. This places the teacher in a new research role and provides him or her with the opportunity to hone his or her assessment, questioning and interviewing skills while collecting student data. Practitioners can develop the required skills and analyze video’s and transcripts of interviews. A good starting point can be found In Entering the Child’s Mind, Ginsburg (1997). Chapter 4 provides guidelines for conducting interviews. Providing teachers with time and video equipment to practice and critique each other’s work in conjunction with a content specialist is of paramount importance. Gaining expertise in both interviewing and teaching takes time and ongoing opportunities to reflect on ones work. (c) Engage in a CS/LS on one grade level. Rather than viewing the curriculum as fixed (as in our use of an Everyday Mathematics Lesson), the teachers can use their knowledge of students to design new lessons. School communities may benefit from the different professional development outcomes that occur when concentrating on one grade level vs. multiple grade levels. The Change Leadership group at Harvard University has identified lesson study as the most fully developed model of teacher collaboration to improve practice (Wagner et€ al. 2006). This group also notes that for communities of practice to be effective they must include real student data. To this end, the clinical interview provides an effective, venue for collecting and interpreting student data. In Japan, teacher collaboration and schoolbased improvement have been a part of the teaching practice for decades. A similar initiative in the United States will need to include local, state, and federal support with a long-term commitment in order to be transformative.
Conclusion Successful implementation of the CS/LS model will require commitment and political will on the part of the district leadership. This type of professional development may not bring immediate change in test scores, but if it follows the course of lesson study in Japan, it will create a professional culture that values excellence in teaching and learning. Districts should include in their professional development plans a serious emphasis on training teachers to conduct clinical interviews because they can serve as a catalyst for purposeful discourse about student thinking and learning. The district needs to provide time for the research team to plan, observe, and debrief, a skilled individual who can facilitate discourse beyond what is superficial, a group of teachers (and other educators) who are willing to take risks for their own professional growth and development and who are willing to conduct clinical interviews with students in order to learn how they make sense of what is taught in the classroom. The implementation of CS/LS can help produce reflective practitioners devoted to improving their own practice by thinking deeply about student learning. This outcome is likely to be far more valuable than what can be accomplished by looking outside the classroom and beyond the students for ready-made forms of effective and engaging professional development.
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1. The elementary supervisor received training in clinical interviewing and utilized Entering the Child’s Mind as a resource. 2. Pseudonyms were used for the school and all participants in the study
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Within K-12 Schools for School Reform: What Does it Take? Michaelann Kelley, Paul D. Gray, Jr., Donna J. Reid, and Cheryl J. Craig
Chapter Organization and Methodology We write this chapter as members of the School Portfolio Group,1 a group of practitioners, from different school sites, who have met for over a decade to cultivate and scaffold reflective practice within ourselves and our colleagues in the context of an organized school reform movement. The School Portfolio Group originally coalesced around the goal of creating school portfolios to document the evidence of the reform work of the faculty and staff of each campus represented by the School Portfolio Group’s membership. Each of us has personally experimented with a variety of teacher inquiry approaches and tools over time. Also, we have been positioned on our respective educational landscapes in ways that have enabled us to help nurture the reflective practices of others and ourselves. In this chapter, we blend what is presently available in the literature with our “pooling of…experience and insight” (Schwab 1969a, p. 30) drawn from our close to 100 collective years of teaching students in classrooms. By taking this approach, we merge the authority of the educational canon with our narrative authority (Olson 1995) as teachers formed over time in relationship with children and in community with our teaching colleagues. We begin by nesting the history of reflective practice in three images, each of which has contributed to the emergence and growth of reflective practice in the field of education. We then present a palette of reflective research tools we and others have employed, frequently in concert with one another, in both our individual and collective inquiries. Next, we offer narrative exemplars (Lyons and LaBoskey 2002) that have emerged in the context of our own, our colleagues’ and others’ reflective practices in order to illuminate how these reflective devices have been instantiated in the field of teaching. Following that, we discuss a number of venues in which teachers like us have developed their reflective capacities. Lastly, we conclude with opportunities and constraints of reflective practice, along with a discussion of issues encountered and awakenings experienced through sustained engagement in reflective inquiry.
M. Kelley () Eisenhower High School, 7922 Antoine, Houston, Texas, 77088, USA e-mail:
[email protected] â•›The authors of this review essay, with the exception of Cheryl Craig, use pseudonyms to identify themselves, other members of the School Portfolio Group, and other teachers on their respective campuses. They have chosen to do so to protect the anonymity of their colleagues and their school contexts.
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Images of Teachers in the Educational Enterprise Three images of teachers, none of which is mutually exclusive, contributed to the emergence of reflective practice in the teaching profession. The first – teacher as curriculum maker – developed in the curriculum field; the second – teacher as researcher – took shape in the context of school reform; and the third – teacher as reflective practitioner – became widely known through the organizational theory literature. We now briefly unpack each of these images and spotlight the contributions and tensions each brings to our discussion of the cultivation and scaffolding of reflective practice in the teaching profession.
Teacher as Curriculum Maker The role of teachers in educational planning and instruction has been a disputed matter in the field of curriculum. Many (i.e., Pinar et€al. 1995) believe that Tyler’s curriculum rationale positioned teachers as curriculum implementers, enacting the reform proposals of those with more power and/or hierarchical authority. In such a view, the teacher is a “technician, consumer, receiver, transmitter, and implementer of other people’s knowledge” (Cochran-Smith and Lytle 1999, p. 16). This image of teachers as being situated in an educational conduit (Clandinin and Connelly 1995), delivering curriculum products to students, has dominated the teaching enterprise, particularly the policy-making arena. However, Clandinin and Connelly (1992), among others (Craig and Ross 2008), have advocated for a more central role for teachers in curriculum making. They have combined the agency given teachers in Tyler’s curriculum work with the rationale provided by Schwab (1969b) and argued for the image of teachers as curriculum makers, intentionally developing curriculum in the midst of classroom interactions with students. To Clandinin and Connelly (1992), “teachers and students live out a curriculum [in which] an account of teachers’ and students’ lives over time is the curriculum, although intentionality, objectives, and curriculum materials do play a part” (p. 365). In this image of teaching, teachers are positioned in the curriculum maker role, holding, using, and producing knowledge. That is, they employ knowledge that is made available to them by others and generate knowledge on their own. As curriculum makers, teachers are actively “moved by their own intelligences and ideas” (Dewey 1908, p. 16). Thus, the teacher as a curriculum maker addresses the historical divide between “the knower and the known” (Dewey and Bentley 1949). Nevertheless, ongoing messiness (i.e., Gudmundsdottir 1991) persists in the field of education concerning whether teachers are simply “agents of the state, paid to do its bidding” (Lent and Pipkin 2003, p. x) or something more: minded professionals who act on their individual sensibilities and personal knowledge as well as others’ demands and proposals in classroom curriculum making. This messiness inevitably surfaces when reflective practices are introduced to school contexts wherein the image of teacher as implementer is the plotline teachers are assigned and the role they are expected to play.
Teacher as Researcher Conducted by teachers themselves or by researchers taking the teacher perspective, the idea of teacher research emerged within the context of action research and school reform in the U.K. Lawrence Stenhouse, Director of the Humanities Project in England (1967– 1972), was the originator of the concept. The image of teachers as researcher credits teachers with having the ability to “make up their own minds about how to change their practices
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in light of their informed practical deliberations” (Carr and Kemmis 1986, p. 219). In Stenhouse’s work, he addressed two problems experienced by curriculum reformers: teachers who refuse to implement innovative approaches and teachers who believe that their practices already embody the proposed reforms. Stenhouse blended curriculum development and teacher professional development and involved teachers as agents. Through acknowledging teachers’ centrality of teaching, he eschewed false separations between the act of creating a curriculum and the teachers who created it. For Stenhouse (1975), curriculum was not a product but “an attempt to communicate the essential principles and features of an educational purpose in such a form that it is open to critical scrutiny and capable of effective translation into practice” (pp. 4–5). Stenhouse (1980) particularly involved teachers in hypothesis generation, Elliott (1987) gave the research genre a hermeneutic turn, and Carr and Kemmis (1983) took a critical-emancipatory approach. Others also advanced the work in Europe (Altrichter et€ al. 1993), Australia (Stringer 2007), and North America (i.e., Hollingsworth 1997). While the image of teacher as researcher has allowed reformers to position teachers more favorably in systemic school reform efforts, the expectation that teachers be researchers in addition to instructors has been criticized, particularly by those demanding that teacher research conform to the conventions of scientific research (Huberman 1996). This development has contributed to “the new paradigm wars” (Anderson and Herr 1999). At the core of this debate lies the question of whether research findings can and should be translated cleanly into practice in the manner dictated by researchers without teachers’ active participation and deliberation.
Teacher as Reflective Practitioner At the turn of the twentieth century, John Dewey (1910/1933) spoke of reflective practice as a form of systematic inquiry that was rigorous and disciplined, one in which teachers intentionally embarked in order to promote individual and collective growth. Dewey’s theory of inquiry has been interpreted by many, most notably Donald Schön in organizational learning. Schön (1983) summed up the problems of practice in the following way: …there is a high, hard ground where practitioners can make effective use of research-based theory and technique, and there is a swampy lowland where situations are confusing ‘messes’ incapable of technical solution….Shall the practitioner stay on the high, hard ground where he can practice rigorously, as he understands rigor, but where he is constrained to deal with problems of relatively little social importance? Or shall he descend to the swamp where he can engage the most important and challenging problems if he is willing to forsake technical rigor? (p. 42).
Schön addressed this dilemma by proposing the image of reflective practitioner, claiming that the rigor versus relevance dilemma could be rendered obsolete if a “new epistemology of practice” was developed “which places technical problem solving within a broader context of reflective inquiry, shows how reflection-in-action may be rigorous in its own right, and links the art of practice in uncertainty and uniqueness to the scientist’s art of research” (p. 69). This way reflection-in-action would be legitimated and reflection would be employed in broader, deeper, and more rigorous ways (p. 69). Like Schön, many others (Bruner 2002) have called for an epistemology that is not built on positivist assumptions. Such an epistemology would attend to the “puzzling anomaly” (Schön 1983, p. 33) called practice and the development of said practice and necessarily account for reflection and knowing-in-action. Thus, in the field of education, the teacher as reflective practitioner is championed as an ideal image toward which preservice (Gore and Zeichner 1991) and in-service (Osterman and Kottkamp 1993) teachers should strive. Concurrently, critics question whether teachers have time to devote to reflective practice and whether teachers’ reflective practices are disconnected from practical action, assessment, subject matter, and student achievement (Atkins and Murphy 1993).
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Defining Reflective Practice Arising from different histories and geographies, each of the aforementioned images provides reason for teachers to embrace a reflective approach to teaching and thinking about their teaching. As has been shown, particular veins of the curriculum, reform, and organizational literatures assert that teachers who assume the curriculum maker role, involve themselves in classroom inquiry, and take a reflective stance toward their work are “good teachers.” This sentiment is particularly evident in the work of Schwab (1954/1978) who emphasized that teachers are “agents of education, not subject matter” (p. 128). In Schwab’s (1959/1978) view, …only as the teacher uses the classroom as the occasion and the means to reflect upon education as a whole (ends as well as means), as the laboratory in which to translate reflections into actions and thus to test reflections, actions, and outcomes, against many criteria is he [sic] a good … teacher” (p. 182–183).
Having laid this backdrop, we now offer one of many definitions of reflective practice that shapes contemporary work in the field of education. In Lyons’s (1998a) view, Reflective practice [refers to] ways in which teachers interrogate their teaching practices, asking questions about their effectiveness and about how they might be refined to meet the needs of students. The development of reflection is…not simply…change, but [an] evolution and integration of more complex ways (or processes) of engaging in a critical examination of one’s teaching practice (p. 252).
Tools that Cultivate and Scaffold Reflective Practice With this understanding of reflective practice in mind, we now launch into a discussion of research tools that we and other educators have employed to cultivate and scaffold reflective practice through our continuing inquiries. In the spirit of Lyons and Freidus (2004), we believe that teacher inquiry is both consistent with and crucial for the cultivation and scaffolding of reflective practice. As foreshadowed, we start with the available literature in the field and then provide exemplars that have emerged in the context of our own work, some of which are also captured in the literature.
Individual Tools Personal Journals The value of journals as reflective tools has been discussed by Clandinin and Connelly (1994) and Maarof (2007), among others; Connelly and Clandinin (1988), for example, regard journals as “ongoing records of practices and reflections on those practices” (p. 34). Through active journal writing, practitioners “puzzle out experience” (Clandinin and Connelly 2000, p. 103) and find “spaces for struggle” (Phillion in Clandinin and Connelly 2000, p. 103). At the same time, Bleakley (2000) warns of the danger of self-discovery being mistakenly thought to be reflection. Without the presence and participation of others, the possibility of educators slipping into solipsism in journal writing looms. Furthermore, reflective self-discovery can just as easily lead to self-deception (McEwan and Egan 1995) and the telling of cover stories (Olson and Craig 2005). In short, reflective journal entries can be both forced and faked (Hobbs 2007). Ways to support reflective journaling with students and teachers have been offered by Clandinin and Connelly (1994) and Boud (2001). Such approaches include the use of writing
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prompts (Hobbs 2007), composing free verse (Davies 1996), and “found poetry” (ButlerKisber 2002). In addition, the language of reflective journaling has been analyzed (Regan 2007), and the process of moving reflective journals from an abstract exercise to a sustained practice has been discussed (Thorpe 2004). Clandinin and Connelly have been credited with introducing journal writing to the international field of teaching and teacher education (Munby and Russell 1998), a development that parallels the meteoric rise of narrative in education (Lyons 2006), a phenomenon that has taken on a life of its own. Despite journaling being a productive approach for many, also is it apparent that not everyone is predisposed to this form of reflective thinking (LaBoskey 1994). Hence, reflective journal writing does not come as easily to some as to others. For example, in our early work as the School Portfolio Group, Lorne Richards, the community liaison teacher at Hardy Academy, spoke of his attempts to avoid journaling and how, through Cheryl Craig’s scaffolding, he discovered its benefits. Lorne explained his experiences of writing journal entries in an interview setting, when he admitted that he “was not into, like, writing, reflecting, and stuff like that” (Craig 2007, p. 628).2 Yet, as Craig (2007) records, Lorne later went on to describe his pride in his reflective accomplishment. He particularly emphasized that “being around the work… seeing different things…gives me the courage to go on…to take the work this way or that way…to throw new ideas out there…” (Craig 2007, p. 628). Here, creative tensions within Lorne as an individual blended fruitfully with creative tensions of his colleagues in Hardy Academy’s teacher research group. Peter Martin, who formerly taught alongside Lorne at Hardy Academy, also did not easily accept journal writing as a way to uncover his understanding embedded in practice. Phillips et€ al. (2002) noticed Peter’s resistance to reflective journaling and his eventual acceptance of it as an essential part of his daily practice in Hardy’s evaluation report. They connected Peter’s reflective growth with his understanding of a writing quirk exhibited by one of his students: As a middle school language arts teacher, [Peter] had initially resisted the idea of journal writing as too structured. Working with one student, he had an insight that “you don’t have to write on the lines.” [Peter’s] student had a habit of submitting assignments on scraps of paper, fast food bags, or napkins. Despite the unorthodox materials, [Peter] recognized growth in his student’s writing as the boy moved from “entries full of anger with little elaboration” to “descriptive, well-organized essays.” As [Peter] began to understand the power of individual style, he also began to relax in his own reflective journal writing. Gradually, his own journal entries “outside the lines” revealed an increasing understanding of his students and the effects of his pedagogy on his students’ work (Phillips et€al. 2002, p. 43–44).
In Peter’s situation, the intimate connection between the student learner and the teacher learner and what the teacher comes to reflectively know about his or her student and about himself or herself bubbles to the surface in the process of journal writing. Also, for Peter, his personal journal and his school’s portfolio, a tool we discuss later, became “dance partners” in the cultivation and scaffolding of Peter’s and his colleagues’ reflective practices (Phillips et€al. 2002, p. 44). In this example, an unconventional approach worked for both Peter and his student, spurring both to new horizons of knowing. In somewhat of a contrast to Lorne and Peter, Abbie Puckett, a 10th-grade English teacher at Eagle High School, was not hesitant about engaging in journal writing at Cheryl Craig’s invitation. Having previously taught Honors English, Abbie, in her journal, chose to center on her introduction to
â•›A more detailed account of Lorne’s and Peter’s reticence to engage in journal writing can be found in Craig (2007).
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In this journal passage, Abbie experienced significant tension because her students expected her to enact the curriculum implementer image, not play the curriculum maker role she embraced, which actively, rather than passively, involved them in classroom meaning making. Following this entry, Cheryl responded: It is interesting that I do not see your students as being needy in their appearances. It is like the need gets covered with designer clothing, but teachers seem to peel back the fancy packaging and uncover the real people behind the façade. (Craig and Olson 2002, p. 124)
Cheryl then focused on Abbie’s relationship with “the girls,” questioning whether the conditioning Abbie observed could be traced to cultivation, schooling, culture, other sources, or a combination of factors. She also encouraged Abbie to “think hard” about these matters. Abbie did. One of many influences on Abbie’s reflective thinking was a speech made by Elliot Mishler (1999) by which she was able to connect Mishler’s discussion of the narratives of trauma victims with the writing of her students. In her journal, Abbie questioned: “Can it be that my students’ lack of linear thinking or inability to sequence logically is meshed with past experiences and a combination of other factors?” (Craig and Olson 2002, p. 124). At this point, Abbie’s reflections were interrupted by the realities pouring down on her from out-of-classroom places (Clandinin and Connelly 1995). Because Eagle’s standardized test scores in English had dropped; English Department members were subjected to mandatory staff development along with observers in their classrooms on a regular basis. Abbie used her journal to describe and respond to the turn of events, including a point when she becomes so concerned about the curriculum program – with its emphasis on phonics and limited amount of reading per night – being imposed upon her and her students that she wonders if “The hole is getting deeper—maybe we cannot climb out” (Craig and Olson 2002, p. 124). At the same time, Abbie’s journal entries continued to capture the intense pressure that was building from the narrow boundaries placed on her teaching practice. Then, in the midst of her ongoing reflective writing, a ray of insight came to Abbie: “All this nitpicking is actually making me really reflect—for the first time in a long time—on my own teaching, philosophy, and practice. I needed this” (Craig and Olson 2002 p. 125). Around this time, Abbie’s campus, Eagle High School, was formally evaluated by a case study researcher examining the extent to which the school had enacted its reform proposal. The researcher noticed how “in a fascinating story [Abbie] explains that the pressure she felt in combination with her journaling, pushed her to become a better teacher” (Coppola 2000, italics in original, in Craig and Olson 2002, p. 126). Personal journals, as seen in each of these exemplars, help teachers to cultivate and scaffold their own personal reflective practice. Lorne and Peter found ways to merge their
â•›A more complete excerpt of the journaled interlude between Abbie and Cheryl can be found in Craig and Olson (2002).
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own creativity with personal journal writing. Abbie, on the other hand, was predisposed to journal writing, and used the tool to further deepen her own reflective practice. In each of these instances, personal journals provided a valuable tool for each teacher to peer deeper into their own experiences and create new meanings from them. Personal Portfolios Like journal writing, personal portfolios are also important reflective devices to elicit teachers’ thinking and the connection between their inner thoughts and teachers’ situated actions over time and across context with an added layer of evidence. Lyons’ (1998c) With Portfolio in Hand continues to form a marker in the field. Chapters in that edited volume address preservice teacher education, in-service teacher education, and higher education. Also, issues of validity, state mandated approaches, and missing portfolio entries are taken up. The portfolio interview is additionally offered as an important way to scaffold portfolio development as a form of inquiry into one’s practice. Additional work in the field address electronic portfolio making (Barrett 1998; Hatch 2001) and the programmatic use of portfolios in teacher education (Uhlenbeck et€al. 2002) and within the context of school reform (Cushman 1999). Whether portfolios can and should be used for assessment purposes remains an issue in the field (Gelfer et€al. 2004). Ethical considerations relating to the purposes and uses of reflective portfolios have also been discussed (Gahye 2007), and barriers that inhibit critical thinking have been named (Orland-Barak 2005). In the teacher portfolio work in which the School Portfolio Group engaged, we embraced the portfolio definition proposed by Lyons (1998c) who referred to portfolios as: The dynamic process of teachers documenting the evidence of their work and growth, gathered and authored by them through careful reflection, shared with colleagues and students, and presented for public discussion and debate about their conceptions of good teaching (p. ix).
Following Shulman (1998), Lyons approached portfolio construction as an act of teacher theory making. In that view, “what is declared worth documenting, worth reflecting on, what is deemed to be portfolio-worthy, is a theoretical act” (p. 24). The first portfolio exemplar we share centers on the reflective practice of Anna Hart, one of our Portfolio Group members. In her personal portfolio, she included her goals for this particular year, reflections on her time in school as a child, her thoughts on mentoring a new art teacher, and events experienced in her school milieu. Accompanied by personal photographs over time, these portfolio entries not only gave Anna cause for reflection and a place from which to move forward, but also provided the space for her to look inward and outward, backward and forward in a Deweyan sense, as well as to consider how her experiences were situated in place (Clandinin and Connelly 2000). Anna wrote: “The reflective teacher—How could you not be one? Once a reflective teacher—always a reflective teacher, they say. But they should say: If not a reflective teacher, then never a teacher. Period.” The aforementioned comment provides a glimpse into the mindset of our colleague. It illustrates her willingness to share her position and her passion for reflective practice, but is this rhetoric? Anna continued with evidence excerpted from her own practice, “My teaching style has changed dramatically in the last five years…I look at my students much differently.” She points out that “I feel working with professional people…has impacted how I handle myself in meetings, working with others, and addressing concerns. I can now look at things more objectively and professionally, rather than personally.” Anna’s examples of the influence of reflection on her practice are succinct, yet they paint the picture of an increasingly reflective art teacher.
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Anna opened her personal portfolio with Nona Lyons’ keen observation, “Ethical dimensions of teaching are so daily and so intricately tied to teachers’ work” (Lyons 1998b, p. 114). In her quest to examine this sense in her teaching, Anna observed: Every time something happened in the classroom such as teaching a lesson that failed, or a misbehaving student, the common dialogue that would go through my head was “What could I have done differently, what did I do wrong, how can I make it better, was it my fault or was it something else?” …I think that every teacher thinks this way, but I have come to realize after reading the comments section [on my report card] from my third grade teacher that I have always been this way as a student. I think that is the valuable part of my self that makes me a conscientious teacher. (Hart, Personal Portfolio 2001)
By looking inward, Anna recognized an important ethical dimension of her teaching: her conscientious nature as a human being. Anna also deliberately carved a place in her personal portfolio to look sideways at her work as a school mentor cultivating reflective practice on her campus. She wrote: “The roles of mentors and mentees can be a valuable tool to improve teacher practices, provide support, break down isolation within the school, create ideas, energy, and become a reflective practitioner.” Anna’s participation offers new teachers guidance on their teaching journey. As a guide, Anna recognizes that, in her portfolio, she is storying and restorying not only (Connelly and Clandinin 1990) her own teaching journey, but also her view of the journey as communicated to impressionable mentees. Anna’s portfolio is dotted with chronological postings on the progress of the new teacher with whom she works and on the additional weight the mentoring load has placed on her own practice: “Questions are coming rapidly and I am feeling some of Ms. Sanjuan’s stress. Will this be a long year?” (Hart, Personal Portfolio 2001) Looking sideways as a portfolio maker, Anna could not help but look inward. Her role of serving as a teacher mentor provided a place on her school landscape for her narrative as an experienced teacher to intertwine with the story of a new teacher, creating a brief, temporal moment in which the two narratives became “parallel stories” (Craig 1999) of experience. In looking outward beyond her school to the community, Anna’s portfolio entries captured a much larger view of the story given to her school and school stories told by her and others (Clandinin and Connelly 1995). Anna, a long-standing teacher at Hardy Academy, located the changes in her school context alongside those she observed in her community, as her storying and restorying continued: I have found myself noticing small but significant things about my school, the surrounding community, and my students. My school is very small compared to other secondary schools in most urban school districts. When you are driving to my school, I am sure people think, “I would not let my child go there.” (Hart, Personal Portfolio 2001)
As an active member of the Hardy faculty, Anna’s experiences fueled her narrative authority in a way that allowed her to tell Hardy Academy’s school story in her own words in her personal portfolio. Anna Hart’s personal portfolio concluded with her taking an opportunity to look forward and to recognize her continuing situation within place, “I am deeply embedded in my school. Will I finish out my career there? Who knows? But in the meantime, I am still having fun.” The second narrative exemplar of personal portfolio making is extracted from Allene Carter’s practice. Allene, who was also a member of the School Portfolio Group, originally worked at Heights Community Learning Center before becoming an assistant principal at Heights High School, a nearby large comprehensive campus engaged in whole-school reform. The campus leadership team quickly recognized Allene’s background in developing school portfolios and asked her to use that experience to help teachers cultivate and
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scaffold reflective practice through personal portfolio making. It was also imperative to the teachers at Heights that the personal portfolios constructed transcend the compliance facet of the state teacher appraisal system to become a portfolio of self-reflection. Allene’s introduction of the portfolios to the faculty began in much the same manner as it occurred with the School Portfolio Group years earlier. Cheryl Craig’s previous modeling of beginning a portfolio by thinking of Bruner’s (2002) interpretation of White’s (1981) structure of annals, chronicles, and narratives was evident in how Allene introduced personal portfolios to teachers. Borrowing Bruner’s and White’s thinking through Allene’s direct and Cheryl’s indirect coaching, the teachers came to understand these concepts over time and across places. Allene Carter also imported the continuing cultivation of personal portfolios, once again following Cheryl’s initial leadership of the School Portfolio Group, by asking teachers to meet monthly to reflect upon and share stories of their personal portfolio development. Allene, reflecting on her experiences in the School Portfolio Group with successful portfolio making, introduced to her faculty members the same protocol for looking at personal portfolios that the School Portfolio Group used for looking at school portfolios. The use of these protocols on a campus, faculty members of which were not initially familiar with the basic tenets of working with portfolios, collaboration, and reflective practice, provided many of the faculty members with a foundational piece to scaffold their continued exploration of their teaching and learning. The personal portfolios offered by Allene’s colleagues reveal tensions that emerge as teachers navigate the divide between reflective practice and the behaviorist “grand narrative” (Clandinin and Connelly 2000) of education. Daisy, a teacher constructing her first personal portfolio, spoke about these tensions: “If my evaluator is going to look at my portfolio, you can be sure that I will only include documentation that is positive. I don’t want to make myself look bad.” In Daisy’s words, we meet face-to-face with the struggle between compliance and reflection, intent and perception, and present a positive image or an image of a teacher who is critically interrogating her practice. The narrative authority held by each teacher as he/she engaged in portfolio making provided the individual with the choice of what evidence of teaching and learning would be included in the portfolio. In turn, the decision-making power that came with this narrative authority shaped the portfolio’s intent, how the entries were presented, and which ones were declared portfolio-worthy. Anna, Allene, and the teachers at Heights High School, through the process of personal portfolio making, created fine-grained accounts of their teaching practices. The individual entries they created provided a space for each person to reflect and create meaning from both individual and collective points of view. The individual portfolio making experience provided Anna, Allene, and the teachers at Heights High School with a place where their reflective practice was nurtured and developed. The portfolios became a reflective forum in which the teachers exercised their narrative authority as they storied and restoried their experiences in the throes of their dynamically changing urban school milieus. Reflective Writing Reflective writing, independent of journal entries, is a further teacher inquiry tool advocated by many (Elbaz-Luwisch 2002; Heikkinen 1998). In fact, autobiographical writing forms its own research strand (Mitchell et€al. 2005), as does the self-study of teaching and teacher education practices (Bullough and Pinnegar 2001). Within the latter research genre, K-12 classroom teacher exemplars have also found a place (Austin and Senese 2004). Materials that support teachers’ reflective writing are available inside (Dalmau and Gudjónsdóttir 2002) and outside (Le Guin 1998) the teaching profession.
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ReLeah Cossett Lent and Gloria Pipkin’s (2003) edited work, Silent No More: Voices of Courage in America’s Schools, offers an extensive collection of teachers’ reflective writing on the intriguing topic of intellectual freedom. In that volume, teachers, some of whom no longer hold their positions, discussed the high-stakes testing environment, the literacy wars, and the dangers of being overt about one’s concerns and personal stances. Lent and Pipkin’s work resonated with teachers in the School Portfolio Group because what happened to those teachers could easily have happened to us as we encountered those same boundaries. Some of their reflective writing encountered obstacles that they could not surmount. The striking irony is that if teachers’ voices were being heard in their practice, such regrettable situations would not have happened. One example of teachers’ voices being heard through reflective writing comes from teachers at T. P. Yaeger Middle School, a campus from which members of our School Portfolio Group hailed. At Yaeger, the principal engaged the teachers on faculty in intentional reflective inquiry as a source of personal professional development. On several Friday afternoons during the academic year, students were dismissed at noon so that the Yaeger faculty could focus on their professional growth. As a result, the Yaeger teachers dedicated several afternoons to (1) whole school faculty meetings/professional development, (2) department meetings/professional development, (3) interdisciplinary study groups, and (4) professional growth opportunities of their own choosing. In all instances, the teachers wrote reflective responses to their principal who understood their writing to be …a reflective tool for teachers as professionals to document their ever-changing learning journey. It is a reflective way to look at such things as the influence of culture, the needs of middle school children, and the development of successful school programs… (Craig 2002, pp. 93–94).
From this experience, Craig (2002) excavated two particular reflections written by Yaeger teachers in response to their Friday afternoon activities devoted to personal learning. A teacher who instructs thinking skills and writing wrote of her efforts to tease out a tension that had developed in her own practice. My recent time was spent considering how to improve my plans for this nine-week period. As I reflected over the past nine weeks, I was unhappy to discover that I had covered much less material than I had planned. I needed to find out what was the cause of my lack of progress. I discovered a couple of reasons. (Craig 2002, p. 95).4
She continued by listing some of those reasons, including an admonition to herself that “I just need to make sure that I do not waste that time doing nit-picky stuff—like cleaning my room. This has got to be just ‘me’ time” (Craig 2002, p. 96). The second piece of reflective writing comes from a history teacher, who chose the form of a letter to the principal to scaffold his reflective practice. In his letter, the teacher informs the principal of what he learned in a recent museum visit. After describing what he saw and the students saw, he concludes his letter with a response to a reflective question posed by his principal. My goal is to increase my content knowledge as much as possible and whenever possible. I do not know how to qualify [your] questions of “What will be different about you?” Knowledge is vastly more global than that. All I can say is [this]: the more I know, the greater the intellectual authority I carry into the classroom and the broader the perspective available to my students. The same is also true for occasionally stepping off the rather small universe of Yaeger Middle School into the larger universe off campus (Craig 2002, p. 99).
A more complete version of this and the second exemplar of reflective writing can be found in Craig (2002).
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Both teachers at Yaeger chose different forms of reflective writing, yet the end result was the same – the act of writing reflectively on an experience, or set of experiences, helped each of these teachers to generate meaning from them. Thus, free form reflective writing did indeed help cultivate these teachers’ reflective practice. In this section, we examined different individual tools that teachers use to cultivate and scaffold their own reflective practice. We now turn to a set of shared tools that teachers can use as they cultivate their reflective practice together.
Shared Tools Traveling Journals Traveling journals – common journals around defined topics such as “Reflective Practice” or “Students with Special Needs” that we regularly exchanged among School Portfolio Group members – also formed a vehicle for individual reflective practice that, in turn, spurred collaborative reflective practice. At each monthly meeting of the School Portfolio Group, teachers took turns discussing their entries in the shared journals and the professional learning that emerged as individuals and as members of the School Portfolio Group. For example, at one meeting, Bettylu Green discussed her entries in the “Reflective Practice” journal. She had read an article about reflective practice, which stated “that ‘real’ reflective practice needs another person as mentor or professional supervisor, who can ask appropriate questions to ensure that the reflection goes somewhere, and does not get bogged down in self-justification, self-indulgence, or self-pity!” In response to reading the article, Bettylu posed the following question in the “Reflective Practice” traveling journal: “Does ‘real’ reflection require another person?” Then, at the next group meeting, Bettylu shared her query out loud with her friends and colleagues in the School Portfolio Group: “It says here, ‘indeed it can be argued that “real” and that’s in quotes ‘reflective practice needs another person….’ So, when we’re just journaling on our own, are we technically engaged in reflective practice?” In response to Bettylu’s puzzle concerning the status of individual reflective practice, Cheryl later wrote: And you know that piece about reflection [that Bettylu wrote about and discussed as well]? I think it is best with other people, but you know, when you reflect yourself, I wonder whether the self that wrote the piece is different from the self that reads it and thinks about it. Because we’re different people at different points in time, all the time. And also, we bring different attitudes and aptitudes and such to our work that we do have this multiplicity within ourselves, although it’s always great to have the diversity of others.
Peter Martin then expanded on Cheryl’s response, connecting what she said to his personal practical knowledge (Clandinin 1986) developed over time and in context. Peter remarked that it is “like the reader-response theory of Rosenblatt (1977): each time you enter a text it’s a unique relationship.” Later, Cheryl continued the conversation sparked by Bettylu’s written and spoken commentary. In the “Reflective Practice” journal, Cheryl added: Self-study, according to Clandinin and Connelly (2004), is the highest form of research because it offers the most insights into context, hence, provides the most opportunities for change. Reflecting with others is very rich in perspective and diversity of response. But reflecting with and on self brings our personal multiplicities to the fore.
The “Reflective Practice” journal that circulated in the School Portfolio Group caused members to deliberate our understanding of “reflective practice.” The traveling journal documents provided opportunities for self and group reflection and enabled different expressions of self to emerge in the group inquiry. Also, the shared journals provided a
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structure for reflection within the School Portfolio Group as a knowledge community (Craig 1995). Adopting Dewey’s notion that experience is both educative and continuous while revisiting texts with group members across time provided a series of reflective opportunities that enabled us to burrow into our experiences and deepen our understanding of them. Furthermore, the traveling journals reinforced key qualities of the School Portfolio Group as a knowledge community (Craig 2007). Cheryl observed in one of our collaborative presentations: …our knowledge community, in many ways, becomes visible when we have our discussions around the traveling journals. It’s very interesting–trying to find a centerpiece around which we have shared experiences…there’s a really big gap in the literature as to how you foster teacher growth in community. So actually working through this community it’s very important that the teachers themselves as well as me take a good look at how we’re fostering this teacher growth, and how you can have expertise in a group without having any one expert. (School Portfolio Group 2007)
The traveling journals idea also directly entered teachers’ classroom practices. Bettylu and Roy introduced traveling journals to students in their art classrooms. Below is Cheryl’s explanation of how Bettylu and Roy seized the professional development practice, and how they began to use it in their classroom settings: Well, you know, about four meetings later, Bettylu and Roy showed up at the [School Portfolio Group] meeting and they were all jazzed about something. And they had taken the traveling journal idea and they had made it possible for their art students. And they were using it in their high school art classrooms. And now they had added a little accountability piece so they know who has the journal. Now we [School Portfolio Group members] are taking that piece back into our [practice], because we don’t have any kind of accountability piece as to who has the journal…So in a sense, we began the practice, and then there was the moving back and forth between the teachers’ practices and our practices, and of course, the learning back and forth [between the professional development setting and the teachers’ school classrooms]” (School Portfolio Group 2007)
In Craig’s aforementioned description, Schön’s (1983) concept of double loop learning finds lived expression. Also, in the reflective process, not only was teacher’s knowledge as individuals increased, but so, too, was the knowledge of the teachers in the School Portfolio Group heightened. In fact, the traveling journals formed a nexus of inquiry in which the School Portfolio Group once again lived out many of the attributes of a teacher knowledge community (Craig 2007). This fueled ongoing reflection-in-community as is evident in the “Reflective Practice” traveling journal and the associated exchanges between Bettylu, Cheryl, and Peter concerning the essence of reflective practice. In the exchange, Peter’s contribution to Rosenblatt’s theory of the relationship between a text and the reader particularly shows how teachers’ stories in a knowledge community resonate with one another. Also, the way Bettylu and Roy carried a successful professional development practice to their classroom teaching shows how learning in one milieu shapes learning in another, collapsing the theory-practice divide.
School Portfolios While a literature on school portfolios exists, only three pieces of it, to our knowledge, build on what is known about individual teacher portfolios and take a reflective approach to school portfolio construction (Craig 2003a, b, 2007). Drawing on the work of our crosscampus and cross-district group, we now showcase examples of school portfolio entries members have created, some of which have been excerpted from the aforementioned literature. Upon reflecting on their work, members of the School Portfolio Group assessed the value of school portfolios through centering on benefits to individual teachers, benefits to the group of teachers, and influence on their school contexts. As with individual teacher
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portfolios, school portfolio creation was approached as a theoretical and reflective act. The teachers from each campus scaffolded and cultivated their reflective practice as they worked together to build their own school portfolios.
Benefits to Individual Teachers Looking closely at the classroom through a narrowly focused lens, one can examine the influence that school portfolios have on individual teachers’ classroom practice. At Eagle High School, the school portfolio formed a venue for teachers to reflect on their personal learning and how their learning influenced their classroom practice. Illustrating this aspect through a fine-grained account, Simon Cosenza used the school portfolio as an opportunity to reflect on his personal practice as a mathematics teacher. He was a member of a Critical Friends Group, members of which represented almost every department on campus. On one occasion, Simon presented a group project from students in his Geometry class in order to seek constructive feedback from his colleagues to inform both the current design of the geometry project and inform his personal teaching practice. In a personal journal entry, captured in the school portfolio, Simon reflected: I feel that the detail offered by my math department colleagues was great. That allowed me to focus on technical issues and fine-tune the mathematical agenda of the assignment. But the insights offered by the non-math members of my CFG group, from English, Science, Art, and Special Education, helped me to frame the project in a larger context. The ideas they offered, like a scavenger hunt, rubric design, videotaping, etc., as well as their affirmations, are things that I often overlook. Those nuances are important. And sometimes take a person beyond where they are toward where they need to be. (Personal Journal Entry, November 3, 2000)
The process of developing Eagle High School’s school portfolio, alongside his colleagues, gave Simon occasion to pause and reflect on his own learning and its classroom implications. As he surveyed his entries to contribute to the school portfolio, he had an opportunity to review his work through a different lens, reflecting on his practice for a different purpose. In this way, the multi-layered nature of reflection gave rise to diverse and powerful learning (School Portfolio Group 2002). Widening the aperture of the lens through which we look at the School Portfolio Group, the construction of school portfolios in community with one another also provided benefits to individual teachers. Craig (2007) captured an exchange between Pamela, a teacher at Heights Community Learning Center, and Bernadette, an Art teacher at Cochrane Academy. Pamela and Bernadette, during a School Portfolio Group meeting, reflected on entries chosen for their respective school portfolios and discovered an unanticipated resonance (Conle 1996) between the stories they lived and told. Pamelaâ•… The beauty of all the test data we have collected is that, so far, Dual Language students are outscoring English-only students. Cherylâ•… People peak when they use their full range of intelligences… Bernadetteâ•… In a lot of cases, ESL [English as a Second Language] students in art cope through using their visual skills. Pamelaâ•… Even before Bernadette said that, I was going to say that everything is visual. When you are an English speaker with a Spanish speaker and the Spanish speaker never stops talking Spanish the whole day, you have to have some kind of visuals to learn…And that’s what the Heights’s teachers are using with the children. And that is what Bernadette is talking about. And that is why our students are learning. Bernadetteâ•… It is a struggle in the beginning in Art. What we do is take the hand and instead of communicating with words – we communicate with gestures.
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Then I draw one thing, they draw one thing. I lead it one way; they lead it one way and it comes together like a visual puzzle and all of a sudden, they have it. And then they’re helping English-speaking students who are struggling with the concept. And sometimes you find out that learning is not just about the words you hear. It is about developing ‘a feel’ for what it is that you are supposed to be learning. (p. 627) A school portfolio contains a selection of entries purposefully chosen from a collection of individual contributions. In a school portfolio, the individual story goes through a filtering process by which an individual narrative is selected, reflected on, and restoried as a finished collective piece. Simon, Pamela, and Bernadette chose samples from their own work to include in their respective school portfolios. Additional layers of reflection were transparently added to the stories, leading to a fuller, more highly nuanced story in their respective school portfolios. Even the benefits of how a school portfolio influences students’ reflections have been the focus of teacher’s research on campus. Kelley and Gray (2002) captured how their students have used school portfolios to tell their own school stories in a campus reflective portrait. Benefits to Groups of Teachers Beyond benefiting individual teachers, the school portfolios produced collective benefits for groups of teachers as well. The School Portfolio Group is only one of many knowledge communities in which we participated as individual educators. What happened in the School Portfolio Group also influenced the stories and plotlines of other knowledge communities in which we engaged in our respective campuses. At Eagle High School, Bettylu Green was one of two teachers coaching a Critical Friends Group. In the midst of this particular group’s journey, Bettylu’s co-coach retired and Simon assumed the co-coach’s place in helping to guide the group’s journey. During one year of their externally-funded school reform work, the teachers at Eagle had chosen to focus on powerful learning. To support this campus-wide goal, Bettylu and Simon’s Critical Friends Group tackled the question, “What do we mean when we say ‘powerful learning’?” Using a constructivist protocol, Bettylu guided the group through a deeply detailed and emotionally passionate discussion about what powerful learning looks, sounds, and feels like. Ultimately, the group chose to express their understandings of both powerful learning and positive engagement in a Venn diagram (see Fig.€14.1). Lodged in a school landscape shaped by high-stakes accountability demands, the teachers at Eagle were determined to show that student learning transcended standardized test scores. For these teachers, the focus of the school reform work and the school portfolio on powerful learning empowered them to look beyond externally-defined measures of success for more meaningful and relevant ways to show what students and teachers know. As Craig (2003a) observed, “through exercising two habits of mind – the development of inquiry as a habit and collaboration as a way of knowing – the Eagle teachers creatively challenged the supremacy of test scores in determining what is to be valued in the educational enterprise – from both their and their students’ perspectives” (p. 822). A group of teachers at Hardy Academy, engaging in the school portfolio work and threading the work back into their literacy classrooms, began to use reflective journaling with their students. Teachers from Hardy (School Portfolio Group 2002) spoke of the reciprocal relationship between the school portfolio and the reflective dialog in teacher and student journals using the “dance partner” metaphor foreshadowed earlier (See Fig.€14.2). The group of teachers at Hardy used their experiences in creating the school portfolio to inform their individual classroom practices, bringing reflection as practiced in their school context full circle.
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Powerful Learning: A Teachers’ Perspective Powerful learning
Positive Engagement Might not see it right away
Laced with reality Continuous/deepening/ strengthening of understanding
Interdependent Germination
Unforced/Authentic Planting Seeds
Reality/Relevance Not done in isolation (interactive) Changes you- aha!- epiphany
Not done in isolation Passion/Caring
Passion
Motivates Personal and Internalized Appreciation and Caring Relevant
Fig.€14.1â•… Eagle High School’s Powerful Learning Diagramâ•›
Teachers at T. P. Yeager Middle School also used the school portfolio to cultivate and scaffold their reflective practice. One of the stories of school often told about Yaeger includes the evolution of the school portfolios that were used to document and showcase the school reform work of teachers and administrators. One of the teachers leading the school portfolio work, William, told his version of the Yaeger story: The portfolio process is also something that has always undergone change. The portfolios were originally developed by administration by inviting people to submit pieces that highlighted a wide range of programs within the school, but was originally intended to be a showcase of the school, designed to attract potential funding for major reform initiatives. (School Portfolio Group 2002)
What had initially begun as a vehicle to attract grant funding evolved into a different document when grant funding was achieved. William continued: As the process went forward, responsibility for collecting these artifacts shifted to other individuals who were perhaps more like curators or librarians, keepers [of the artifacts], who were trying to emulate the model begun by the principal. The purpose of the record-keeping had changed as well, and had become an accountability structure for the reform funding that had been acquired. (School Portfolio Group 2002)
From this amalgam of committed individuals, the Yaeger Portfolio Group emerged. This group of teachers ultimately took ownership of the school portfolio and shaped its intent and purposes. The narrative exemplars we share from the Eagle, Hardy, and Yaeger school portfolios also reveal the complex interplay among practice, theory, and policy (Craig and Ross 2008). The story of how the Yaeger school portfolio evolved from a collection of artifacts designed to prove ability in order to attract grant money to one of compliance with grant requirements, to a portfolio of narratives that reflect teacher and student learning and interactions, illuminates how policy informs practice. The Eagle teachers began with a policy emanating from a grant, then used their personal practical knowledge to generate a school-based theory of powerful learning, which then deepened existing personal practices. The dance metaphor emerging from the Hardy school portfolio shows how, when viewed through a reflective lens, practice richly informs practice.
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Individual teacher portfolios
Student portfolios and adapted pedagogy
Fig.€14.2╅ Hardy Academy Dance Partner Metaphor Illustration╛
Influence on School Contexts The creation and use of school portfolios also shape the landscapes of the schools, which were created by their teachers. Like the dance partner metaphor used by teachers at Hardy Academy to make sense of the mingled nature of school portfolios and reflective journals, school portfolios and the school contexts, which they illuminate, are interlaced in a continuing dance within the school landscape. Hope, a teacher at Cochrane Academy, another participating campus, captured one way in which the school portfolio influenced her school context and the stories she tells of her school. I take the portfolio home and look back on it and start to think about what I am going to do to move forward. And it causes me to reflect – just sitting there, thumbing through the pages – It causes me to think about, and turn back on, what we did last year, where we are now, and where we would like our school and our individual practices to go. When people ask questions, I go back to the portfolio and search for answers (Craig 2007, p. 629).
Cochrane Academy’s school portfolio compelled Hope to reflect on both her school’s story and her individual practice, which spirals back to the notion that school portfolios result in benefits to individual teachers. Here, the school portfolio influenced how Hope restoried her personal experiences at Cochrane, prompting her to further unpack the stories of her school and her school stories. Hope’s storying and restorying process illustrates not only how the school portfolio cultivated her personal reflective practice, but also shows how Hope used the school portfolio to promote a productive school story in her interactions with other teachers in her school campus. Teachers at Jefferson Middle School found themselves in a substantially different situation from other members of the School Portfolio Group. Unlike the other five schools that obtained school reform funding grants as individual campuses, Jefferson obtained its funding in the second tier of the local grant program as a part of a contrived “learning community” with other neighborhood elementary schools and the neighborhood high school. Jefferson’s portfolio team faced the unique challenge of representing the story of the entire multi-school learning community within one portfolio, rather than individual school portfolios. Teachers on this team used a “reservoir” metaphor to make sense of their situation. Like a reservoir, the Jefferson Learning Community was not a natural part of their school landscape. Instead, it was artificially constructed for a specific purpose: working on a common reform effort in order to maintain funding. Creating a single learning community portfolio to tell the story of the entire learning community was a daunting task that proved to be exceedingly difficult. Teachers from each of the four campuses followed portfolio structures they had developed from their own unique personal experiences. Yearning for more authenticity, the following year, leaders from all four campuses agreed the following year that each campus would produce its own school portfolio with a common layer to show the progress of the learning community as a whole. The school portfolio’s impressions on Jefferson’s school context are more subtle than at other campuses involved in the School Portfolio Group. During their second year of
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school portfolio making, Jefferson’s teachers chose to structure their school portfolio around the school’s espoused mission statement. All teachers were invited to contribute to the portfolio through a variety of strategies, including a “reflection gala” hosted at a local restaurant after school, which created a social space for teachers to lay a foundation for reflective practice. Because teachers were primarily responsible for creating and developing the school portfolio, Jefferson’s portfolio team leaders found evidence of deeper teacher reflection. For example, reflective strategies such as chalk talks and text-based discussions began to spill over to faculty meetings. The Jefferson teachers who were involved in the creation of the learning community portfolio and their individual school portfolio also discovered an increased awareness of reflective practice in other places within their school landscape. Group reflection led to deeper individual reflection, which in turn strengthened the collaborative efforts within schools and across campuses. As can be seen, school portfolios have a reciprocal influence on the school landscapes they represent. The school landscape provides a backdrop around which and within which the stories of teachers, students, and vertical communities converge and diverge. School portfolios capture these intersections. As we saw in Hope’s story, the portfolios themselves spark reflection on the past as a way to look forward to future living and telling of school, teacher, student, and community stories.
Collaborative Presentations The merits of publicly presenting one’s reflective practice for broader community response have been discussed by Lyons and LaBoskey (2002). Such a process not only provides an additional layer of reflection to the work, but it also increases the trustworthiness of the documented practice. Two examples of how the School Portfolio Group has used collaborative presentations to cultivate and scaffold reflective practice will now be shared. Our first exemplar centers on Liz Clayton’s and Abbie Puckett’s stories of the Yellow Brick Road and shows how their reflective practices influenced classroom interactions among teachers and students at Eagle High School. Our second exemplar focuses on a particular juncture in the School Portfolio Group’s social narrative history and how that provided opportunity and became cause for reflective practice within the context of a shared conference presentation. We begin with Liz and Abbie, two seasoned Eagle High School teachers who collaborated to develop a shared Humanities curriculum for the most at-risk 10th grade students at Eagle. Their ongoing dialog took place in a double-entry journal they shared, a document to which Cheryl also responded. Their journal exchange formed the centerpiece for two collaborative teacher research presentations at the state and international levels. In their journal and subsequent presentations, Liz and Abbie repeatedly employed the Yellow Brick Road metaphor to unpack their reflective thinking and frame their presentations: Without a common planning period or prior curriculum planning, Abbie and I embarked down the ‘Yellow Brick Road’ to Oz, a place where our students would be known, not for the trouble they cause, but for the potential they possess. This presentation is a weaving of our story as two idealistic teachers don their ruby slippers. (School Portfolio Group 2001)
Early in the school year, Liz and Abbie began their reflective writing by discussing their stances from the teacher commonplace. Liz stated, “So the challenge for [us was] to get both our students and us out of our comfort zones so that we can all reach the Kingdom. I had no idea how to do this – not even after 11€ years of teaching experience.” Liz also reflected on her struggle to find the “right” instructional strategies for the particular students she taught. She additionally searched for the correct subject matter, “I’m working on integrating the ADL World of Difference Curriculum… It’s not a perfect fit, but it can’t be worse than anything else I’ve tried.” (Double-Entry Journal, August 23, 1999)
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Meanwhile, Abbie wrote from the Schwabian commonplace of student, “I talked to Cesar after class. He’s so bright.” Liz responded, “I need to get to know him – he’s kind of a lump with me.” In the midst of this exchange, Liz turned the topic of conversation to the subject matter commonplace, specifically Social Studies, and was stunned by both her students’ and Abbie’s response. Liz began: “We had a sad discussion yesterday about how most of them find social studies dull – they memorize enough for the test, but don’t care about anything else. Maybe my problem is that I have too much ‘love of the game.’” And Abbie, once again speaking from the student commonplace, quickly replied, “It has never been made relevant. I think, among these kids there could be some real activists. They need a mission – to be sent out. They do not feel empowered.” Despite incredible odds, Liz and Abbie were able to reflectively capture small steps in the direction of success. More than that, they came to an important realization – an intimate understanding of a learning paradox – about which both Dewey and Schön wrote. Together Liz and Abbie concluded that: At the completion of the year we began to recognize that we could not obsess about all of our students reaching Oz during their tenure with us. We were simply a part of their odyssey down the Yellow Brick Road where we tried to help them find their own courage, brains and heart…What about the others? We don’t know. In order to keep going we must believe that something, anything, we did made a difference. Yet, we have been humbled by the realization that the journey to Oz is made by individual students, not by us, their teachers. We can lay the bricks and make the journey enticing. However, each student has to make his or her own decision about when, where, and how to ‘follow the Yellow Brick Road’ (Double-Entry Journal, June 24, 2000)
Liz and Abbie’s experiences with their 10th grade students, informed by their reflections on their experiences, once again call to our attention Schwab’s four commonplaces of curriculum, not only particularly the commonplace of Liz and Abbie as teachers but also their understandings of students, subject matter, and the high-stakes milieu in which their teaching took place. As confident as Abbie and Liz were not only in their own practices grounded in theory but also in the realities of their classrooms, their shared stories revealed that frequently, the human element of student, plays a pivotal role not in classroom curriculum making alone, but in the outcomes produced in a high stakes learning environment in a diverse, high needs school as well. Liz and Abbie’s “Journey to Oz” forms a strong example of how individual teacher stories and stories of teachers intertwine and influence one another. In a similar way, school stories and stories of school intertwine and influence one another, as exhibited in the School Portfolio Group’s collective experiences. Our second shared presentation is excerpted from a joint contribution that the School Portfolio Group made on short notice at a local high school network meeting in which we were asked to share our expertise about developing school-wide portfolios. At a later collaborative presentation, Peter restoried that experience: The interesting thing for me, though, is that any one of us could get up and talk about the story of how this [School Portfolio Group] – or any one of my colleagues could talk about the story at Hardy Academy. I could talk about Eagle, Jefferson – or any one of the schools that are in this group because of the strong teacher community we’ve built over the years. And the fact that we’ve laid our work on the table, and we’re constantly reflecting and restorying our own work (School Portfolio Group 2007).
Bettylu picked up on Peter’s narrative thread, sharing her experience with the same presentation: When we realized that we could talk about each other’s schools was [when] we were asked to do a presentation with about 48-hours notice. And we just quickly said, ‘Okay, we will do this, this, and this. And we’ll do this.’ ‘Hey, you do this part and this part and this part.’ And Allene Carter, who is now principal of another elementary [school], who is not with us today, stood up and gave a wonderful introduction to the audience about all the members of the School Portfolio Group, telling about their schools and their histories with no prep, no materials, just out of our sustained time of
14â•… Within K-12 Schools for School Reform working together. You realize now that’s going on almost ten years. Allene being able to do that off the cuff standing in front of an audience really shows how embedded we, each of our stories are, in each other’s practice.
In this second instance, Peter and Bettylu collaboratively restoried the experience of the preparation for the presentation as well as the presentation itself. Drawing on Clandinin and Connelly’s notion (2000) of a three-dimensional inquiry space, members of the School Portfolio Group – in the case of not only Liz and Abbie, but also Bettylu and Peter – embraced collaborative presentations as opportunities to look outward, along the personalsocial dimension of interaction, and beyond the individual stories of the individual schools in the School Portfolio Group. And, as they journeyed further afield, stories of the School Portfolio Group as a knowledge community continued to shine through.
Teacher Groups Teacher group settings additionally form contexts within which teachers’ reflective practices are cultivated and scaffolded. Many types of teacher groups exist – for example, teacher inquiry groups, study groups, portfolios groups, literature circles, and teacher circles (a derivation of literature circles common in Australia and other parts of the world). Here, we focus on two types of teacher groups and provide exemplars of each. We feature an exemplar culled from the more widely known teacher inquiry group, which we have excerpted from an AERA paper presentation made by Kelley, North, and Craig (2008).
Teacher Inquiry Group One teacher inquiry group met at Eagle High School to strengthen each member’s individual practice. At one meeting, the group discussed questions arising from individual classroom practices. The majority of the stories shared were about “connecting” to either a student or colleague. In short, relationship was the common thread as we reflected back on how we had come to develop trust with one another. At the same time, we acknowledged the tensions emerging as we bumped into the boundaries between a group whose focus is on collaborative, reflective practice, and a story of school that values the teacher as the sole authority in a classroom. On the one hand, the story given the school expects teachers to be the authority on all matters relating to teaching and learning. Yet, on the other hand, the teacher inquiry group encourages teachers to work collaboratively with colleagues, publicly declaring that each teacher has unresolved queries. It was this realization that, in our fourth year together, the group deliberately shifted the way it works. Rather than focusing solely on looking at artifacts of teacher and student work, the group members collectively chose to probe one another’s lived classroom experiences. Group members began spending time in each other’s classrooms observing, reflecting, and then collaborating with each other, attempting to become better teachers for all of our students. A climate of high stakes accountability forces teachers to tell cover stories (Olson and Craig 2005) in order to maintain their images of highly qualified professionals. Opening his/her classroom to peer observation requires a teacher to acknowledge the cover stories and bump into the boundaries imposed by stories of school. The peer observer may see beyond the cover stories and witness the lived teacher and school stories as they unfold in a teacher’s classroom. Arthur has been a teacher as well as a member of a teacher inquiry group for two years. He explores changes in his teaching strategies and the locus of control in his classroom, which happens to be a Chemistry lab. In contrast to most others in the group, Arthur is a
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second-year teacher who entered the teaching profession from industry. By virtue of his background in private industry and as a teacher who obtained his teaching certification through an alternative certification program, Arthur brings a fresh analytical voice to the group. He does not know the cover stories that imbue traditional teaching preparation programs, and frequently favors successful, albeit unorthodox, ways of learning. Arthur, for example, tells of a “blind experiment” in which he engaged: I happened to walk past the classroom of Ms. Green, a friend and colleague that teaches art on my hall and is in my teacher research group. I saw something very curious: students working in groups, quietly, and very much on task. Could this be the Holy Grail? I wondered. I needed a way to investigate this classroom, but I had one more problem. In the past when I had requested a session from one of my peers, the experience felt very synthetic and artificial. I needed a way to get into [my peer’s] classroom with permission, but be invisible both to students and the teacher. I needed to set up a blind experiment.
Arthur continued: One day the opportunity presented itself. A former student gave me a work of ceramics that she had made for me in Ms. Green’s class. I began to ask her about how she had made the project and expressed an interest in someday learning how to do ceramics myself. “Why don’t you just join our class?” This is how I could observe without interfering with the outcome of the experiment. I would sit in not as a visiting teacher, but as a student.
He went on: I secretly collected subjective data on the students and teacher that were successfully implementing what I had always believed to be the impossible: a fruitful peer tutorial.
And, in Arthur’s words, what did he learn in his blind experiment concerning his colleague’s practice? The key was a simple concept of moderation between the strict teacher directed and completely structured environment in my science class and the student directed chaos of my previous experiences. At this point, I realized that I had been using this method all along, not in the classroom, but in the laboratory. The conclusion I reached after days of research was that I needed to bring my lab work method to my classroom.
When Arthur storied his experiences with Ms. Green, he recognized the “synthetic” and “artificial” nature of a staged peer observation, revealing his intent to strip away the perceived cover story inherent in peer observation; that is, the observed teacher must deliver a perfect, model lesson in a contrived environment. To peel back the layers of this cover story, Arthur positioned himself as a student in order to learn organically from another teacher so that his learning could be unencumbered by the teacher’s self-modifications to her teaching. His “blind experiment” story stands as a strong model of a teacher desiring to learn in the years following the conferral of a degree. With Arthur’s artificial experiences of observing others’ practices also shaping his knowing, he called forth his knowing of science – particularly of the laboratory – to leverage self-identified changes in his teaching practice. Critical Friends Groups The idea of a “critical friend” jointly involved in inquiry first appeared in the early qualitative research literature. Torbert (1976), for example, stressed the intellectual value of “friends willing to act as enemies.” He believed that “a conversation with lifetime friends (each of whom may be pursuing different disciplines to self-discovery) is potentially the most embracing system for illuminating one’s conscious lopsidedness” (Torbert, Personal Communication, 1980, cited in Reason 1981). Reason (1981) agreed, noting that “consensus collusion in collaborative research can be countered by inviting some coresearchers to take “devil’s advocate” roles, so that confronting, challenging, disagreeing, picking holes, and so on is built into the inquiry process” (p. 247).
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The notion of teachers serving as one another’s critical friends in examining their practices first appeared in Kroath’s (1990), work in and the idea of critical colleagueship in the teaching profession appeared in Lord’s (1994) research. By 1996, Cushman had authored an article, “What does a Critical Friends Group do?” in Horace, the official publication of the Coalition of Essential Schools reform movement, implanting the term Critical Friends Group (CFG) into the context of U. S. comprehensive school reform under the wing of the National School Reform Faculty at Brown University. CFGs typically consist of groups of 8–12 educators (teachers, administrators, professors, or mixed groups) who meet monthly with a trained coach for approximately two hours. During this time, they establish community through promoting reflective inquiry and focusing on students and their work. A teacher who is a critical friend is, in Costa and Kallick’s (1993) words, a trusted person who asks provocative questions, provides data to be examined through another lens, and offers critique of a person’s work as a friend. A critical friend takes the time to fully understand the context of the work…and is an advocate of that work. (p. 50)
The National School Reform Faculty supports the work of Critical Friends Groups through a variety of ways, including a website, professional development offerings, and Connections, an on-line journal in which teachers publish articles on their classroom practices, including the use of blogs to intensify reflections (Reid 2005), the relationship between inquiry and changing classroom practices (Gibbons 2005), and the notion of breaking established rules as a teacher facilitator (Kelley 2004). Teachers trained in the use of protocols use materials developed by the National School Reform Faculty as well as books authored by Allen and Blythe (1999), among others. Text-based discussions frequently take place around articles published in scholarly journals. Having provided this general background, we now describe a particular cross-campus CFG composed of four specially prepared coaches and offer a sample exchange among them. The members of this diverse CFG represent three urban school districts in the Houston area. One member teaches in a middle school, whereas the other three work in high school contexts. The CFG members represent a variety of job responsibilities and job titles on four urban campuses that reflect the changing and increasingly diverse demographics of Houston. Yet there are numerous common threads between the particular group members, including their passion for teaching and learning and their shared knowledge of Critical Friends practices of reflection and collaboration. For a variety of reasons, Bettylu invited colleagues from other campuses to be a part of a new CFG that would focus on teacher leadership within the common context that all the members would be experiencing new campus leadership or would otherwise be new to a campus themselves. Members of the CFG would build and scaffold their unfolding learning as expressed in individual portfolios containing personal reflective stories. The multiple lenses of the group would create new understandings of how the roles of principal and teacher leaders intersect and how those roles could, would, and should play out in ways to empower teacher leaders. Each member would share the current happenings in their school over the academic year, discuss their story of school and school stories, and investigate how the new campus leadership influenced the storying and restorying of the school story lived and told by the teacher leaders. At the first formal meeting, the CFG members shared the uncertainties they experienced with the traditional roles expected of them in their respective school contexts and even the tensions associated with them being considered teacher leaders. Bettyluâ•… I was looking at a question. “How does change in administrative leadership affect the school culture as interpreted by empowered school leaders?” We’re already classifying ourselves as leaders – school leaders. Carol Annâ•… I haven’t even started there [school leader] yet.
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Marthaâ•… We are, aren’t we? Bettyluâ•… We are, yes. Marthaâ•… We are. I know that I am on my campus. I’m on the Instructional Leadership Team. You wouldn’t necessarily even have to be on a team to be considered a leader. Carol Annâ•… Right. Bettyluâ•… I guess what we’re going to have to look at is how they [teacher leaders] become known to administrative leadership. Because you’re right there, you’re in the middle of it [campus leadership]. Sherryâ•… I’m more interested in how does the principal and coordinating leadership utilize you [teacher leaders] and for what purpose. I think that is more of what we should investigate – seeing if the principal is able to recognize and tap into your kind of leadership. In this excerpt, the CFG members in the Leadership Group, which many outsiders would consider teacher leaders, demonstrate how – without a label or a conferred title – confusion in place, value, and ability to affect change becomes part of teachers’ own mindsets. The conventional interpretation of leadership within the field of education has produced school landscapes in which teachers view themselves as participants in the process – curriculum implementers – rather than empowered classroom leaders – curriculum makers.
Constraints and Opportunities Throughout this chapter, a number of constraints and opportunities have lain beneath the surface of our exemplars, affecting how we were able to cultivate and scaffold reflective practice. To conclude, we draw a few of these matters forward for discussion. We begin with the reform movement context, which provided both opportunities and constraints. The opportunities available to us are abundantly evident in the exemplars we have shared. Yet, the constraints we faced were equally daunting. First, historical baggage associated with the teacher as implementer role existed, which automatically burdened the change effort, creating ongoing tensions relating to how we were perceived by others and sometimes intuitively perceived by ourselves, due to our positioning within and across our respective educational milieus. Second, inevitable rivalries erupted between and among school districts and the reform agency (and sometimes universities), all of which attempted to claim ownership of our practices at different points in time. Third, there was the unrelenting press for accountability and the fact that the highly qualified teacher, as nationally defined in the U.S., is one who is merely a subject matter expert. This definition renders not only our individual and collective endeavors invalid, but our contributions over the past decade inconsequential. These highly convoluted and troubling matters lead us to agree with Craig and Ross (2008) who maintain that the theory-practice split in Schwab’s time has become a theory-practice-policy split in our own. We join with those authors in calling for the careful unraveling of complex dilemmas – with far-reaching ramifications – at the nexus where theory, practice, and policy meet. We furthermore assert that there is a dire need for teacher inquiry, a fluid form of investigation, to balance the current educational regime’s intoxication with quantifiable results. Lastly, matters of leadership, power, and position need to be paid mindful attention. Because both capacity and incapacity – that is, ability and inability to reflect – can be developed in teachers and students, it is vitally important that movement in the direction of growth be championed rather than snuffed out. From where we are positioned, the teaching profession is at a critical juncture.
14â•… Within K-12 Schools for School Reform Acknowledgmentsâ•… The School Portfolio Group gratefully acknowledges the contributions of its current and past members, including Tim Martindell, Gayle Curtis, Ron Venable, Jennifer Day, Allison Hamacher, Michael Sirois, Janet Gray, Mari Clayton Glamser, Sandi Capps, Shannon Weigel, Elaine Wilkins, Lewis Rogers, and Annette Easley, as well as the many others with whom we have had the privilege to collaboratively engage in reflective practice. Thanks is additionally extended to Xiao Han who provided us with research support and to our two chapter reviewers, Dr. Helen Freidus, Bank Street College, New York City, NY and Dr. Margaret Olson of St. Francis Xavier University, Antigonish, Nova Scotia, Canada for their insightful comments and suggestions. Special gratitude is expressed to the Houston A+ Challenge reform movement, which has allowed teachers and principals to form their own “theories of action” and funded many of the teacher inquiries and school-based reforms described in this work.
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14â•… Within K-12 Schools for School Reform Kroath, F. (1990). The role of the critical friend in the development of teacher expertise. Paper presented at an International Symposium on Research on Effective and Responsible Teaching, Université de Fribourg Suisse, Fribourg, Switzerland, 3–7 September. LaBoskey, V. (1994). Development of reflective practice: A study of preservice teachers. New York: Teachers College Press. Le Guin U. (1998). Steering the craft: Exercises and discussions on story writing for the lone navigator or the mutinous crew. Portland, Oregon: The Eight Mountain Press. Lent, R. C., & Pipkin, G. (eds). (2003). Silent no more: Voices of courage in American schools. Portsmouth, NH: Heinneman. Lord, B. (1994). Teachers’ professional development: Critical colleagueship and the role of professional communities. In N. Cobb (Ed.), The future of education: Perspectives on national standards in education (pp. 175–204). New York: College Entrance Examination Board. Lyons, N. (1998a). Portfolios and their consequences: Developing as a reflective practitioner. In N. Lyons (Ed.), With portfolio in hand: Validating the new teacher professionalism (pp. 247–264). New York: Teachers College Press. Lyons, N. (1998b). Constructing narratives for understanding: Using portfolio interviews to scaffold teacher education. In N. Lyons (Ed.), With portfolio in hand: Validating the new teacher professionalism (pp. 103–119). New York: Teachers College Press. Lyons, N. (1998c). Preface. In N. Lyons (Ed.), With portfolio in hand: Validating the new teacher professionalism (pp. vii–ix). New York: Teachers College Press. Lyons, N. (2006). Narrative inquiry: What possible future influences on policy or practice? In D. J. Clandinin (Ed.), Handbook of narrative inquiry: Mapping a methodology (pp. 600–631). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications. Lyons, N., & Freidus, H. (2004). The reflective portfolio in self-study. In J. Loughran, M. L. Hamilton, V. K. LaBoskey & T. Russell (Eds.), International handbook of self-study of teaching and teacher education practices. London: Kluwer Academic Publishers. Lyons, N., & LaBoskey, V. K. (eds). (2002). Narrative inquiry in practice: Advancing the knowledge of teaching. New York: Teachers College Press. Maarof, N. (2007). Telling his or her story through reflective journals. International Education Journal, 8(1), 205–220. McEwan, H., & Egan, K. (1995). Narrative in teaching, learning, and research. New York: Teachers College Press. Mishler, E. (1999, January 8). Narratives of trauma victims. Keynote Address. Narrative and Portfolio Conference, Harvard University. Mitchell, C., Weber, S., & O-Reilly-Scanlon, K. (2005). Just who do you think we are? Methodologies for autobiography and self-study in teaching. New York: RoutledgeFalmer. Munby, H., & Russell, T. (1998). Epistemology and context in research on learning to teach science. In B.J. Fraser & K.G. Tobin (Eds.) International handbook of science education (pp. 643–665). Dordrecht, The Netherlands: Kluwer Academic Publishers. Olson, M. (1995). Conceptualizing narrative authority: Implications for teacher education. Teaching and Teacher Education, 11(2), 119–135. Olson, M., & Craig, C. (2005). Uncovering cover stories: Tensions and entailments in the development of teacher knowledge. Curriculum Inquiry, 35(2), 161–182. Orland-Barak, L. (2005). Portfolio as evidence of reflective practice: What remains ‘untold’. Educational Research, 47(1), 25–44. Osterman, K. F., & Kottkamp, R. B. (1993). Reflective practice for educators: Improving schooling through professional development. Newbury Park, CA: Corwin Press. Phillips, J., Reyes, P., & Clarke, L. (2002). Building constructive partnerships in urban school reform. In B. Turnbull (Ed.), Research perspectives on school reform. Providence, RI: AISR. Pinar, W., Reynolds, W., Slattery, P., & Taubman, P. (1995). Understanding curriculum: An introduction to the study of historical and contemporary curriculum discourses. New York: Peter Lang. Reason, P. (1981). Issues of validity in new paradigm research. In P. Reason & J. Rowan (Eds.), Human inquiry: A sourcebook of new paradigm research (pp. 239–249). New York: Wiley. Regan, P. (2007). Interpreting language used in reflective practice. Reflective Practice, 8(1), 109–122. Reid, D. (2005, Fall). Using a blog to intensify reflections. Connections. National School Reform Faculty. http://www.nsrfharmony.org. Accessed 10 September 2005. Rosenblatt, L. M. (1977). The transactional theory of the literary work: Implications for research. Paper presented at the Buffalo Conference on Researching Response to Literature and the Teaching of Literature, Buffalo, NY. Schön, D. A. (1983). The reflective practitioner: How professionals think in action. New York: Basic Books. School Portfolio Group (2001). Using portfolios to make explicit what we know. Symposium at the Annual Meeting of the American Educational Research Association, Seattle, WA, April 2001.
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Chapter 15
Reflective Inquiry in the Round Steve Seidel
In his essay, Why Reflective Thinking Must Be an Educational Aim, John Dewey argues that reflective thought distinguishes man from “the lower animals.” He builds his argument with a discussion on the values of logical, and analytic thinking. In the first place, it emancipates us from merely impulsive and merely routine activity. Put in positive terms, thinking enables us to direct our activities with foresight and to plan according to ends-in-view, or purposes of which we are aware. It enables us to act in deliberate and intentional fashion to attain future objects or to come into command of what is now distant and lacking. By putting the consequences of different ways and lines of action before the mind, it enables us to know what we are about when we act. (Dewey, 213, italics in the original)
The call by various educators for more reflective thinking of the kind that Dewey describes here is an acknowledgment that mindless, “merely impulsive and merely routine” action and thought do exist, and sometimes dominate, in educational practice (Norlander-Case, et€al. 1999; Weinbaum, et€al. 2004). Indeed, Dewey’s focus on both purposes and intentionality suggests the critical nature of understanding why we do and what we do in the way we do it in our classrooms, schools, and other educational settings. In considering the role of reflective thinking in educational practice, Norlander-Case, et€al. explicitly link reflection and methodical investigation in a call for reflective inquiry as a foundation of both the preparation and practice of teachers (1999). At the same time, they highlight the active nature of this form of thought, debunking any idea of reflection as a passive state. At the heart of our concerns is the idea that the reflective practitioner must be not merely a consumer of knowledge but a producer of knowledge as well. An important feature of the successful reflective practitioner will be his or her ongoing efforts to understand educational issues better, in both the classroom context and the broader social or community context. Thus, reflective practitioners inevitably engage in classroom-based inquiry, both formal and informal (1999).
But how to nurture and practice reflective inquiry in the context of the day-to-day realities of working conditions in schools and other learning environments? Challenges abound for educators who want to engage thoughtfully in this work. In most settings, financial realities force teachers, administrators, and others to work long hours, often without adequate breaks to take care of even basic necessities. Where is the time to engage in deep individual reflection or in sustained conversation with colleagues? Beyond constraints of resources and time, there are the challenges presented by typical school cultures. Isolation is a
S. Seidelâ•›() Harvard Graduate School of Education, Cambridge, MA, USA e-mail:
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Â� principal characteristic of teachers’ experiences in many schools (Little 1990). When teachers and administrators in a school do come together, it is often to focus on logistics such as testing schedules, book ordering, and school- or district-wide policies regarding curriculum standards, handling discipline issues, and so on. Institutional constraints can make reflective inquiry so challenging that, in many schools, it becomes difficult to establish and sustain. In some schools, of course, reflective inquiry is simply not prioritized or considered important. Despite these difficulties, some schools do find ways to nurture reflective practice. Over the past two decades, practices that include looking at student work, various forms of data analysis, and other protocols for the examination of student and teacher work have emerged and are used regularly in some schools. (Weinbaum et€ al., 2004, Cushman,). Through creative scheduling, careful budgeting, and a deep commitment and determination of administrators and teacher leaders, they find ways to come together with colleagues on a regular basis to reflect on substantive questions of educational practice, such as: What does it mean to learn? What are we doing to support learning for all students in our classrooms? How can we improve our teaching?
What’s a Teacher to do? Yet, despite significant efforts, discussions that get beyond book ordering, testing schedules, and other logistics to an examination of critical issues of purpose and values – what to teach, how to teach, and other persistent questions – are, too often, unavailable in schools. For many teachers, the need to look outside of their school for places to talk seriously with others about foundational questions of educational practice raises the questions of where, how, and when educators can find or create these communities. Some teacher groups have sustained reflective practices for many years outside of a single school, like the Philadelphia Teacher’s Group (Kanevsky 1991) and the North Dakota Study Group, founded in 1972, and still meeting on an annual basis (Engel and Martin 2005). Certainly, there are others around the country, but, despite the strength of these communities, meetings of the sort these groups engage in hardly comprise a full-scale educational movement in the U.S. in the early twenty-first century. Indeed, these communities represent such a small number of educators that they might hardly be considered a presence at all in education if so many of their participants were not also writers on issues of educational thought and practice (for example, Armstrong Allen 1998; Amstrong 1992, 2006; Blythe, Allen & Powell 2006; Carini 2001; Duckworth 1996, 2001; Featherstone 1998; Kanevsky, Cochran-Smith 1991; Meier 2002) Blythe, Carini, Duckworth, Featherstone, Featherstone, Kanevsky, Lyons, Meier, and Roosevelt).
The Aim of This Essay In this essay, I discuss a particular reflective inquiry practice developed at Project Zero, an education research center at the Harvard Graduate School of Education. This practice, called “Rounds,” established and continuously running since 1995, provides a view of one approach to reflective inquiry that is entirely voluntary and draws participants from a wide range of educational settings and roles. Though certainly not unique, Rounds represents a form of reflective inquiry that is, at best, uncommon. This chapter is a report on this practice from the perspective of the founder and facilitator. It does not represent a full-scale study of the practice or a systematic comparison of the values and outcomes of this and other forms of reflective practice.
15â•… Reflective Inquiry in the Round
The existence of this practice, notable for the length of time it has been sustained and the number of people who have participated over the years, suggests that there may be interesting and important dimensions to this form of reflective inquiry that are worthy of consideration. Indeed, just as its roots in medical rounds might suggest, the practice of “education rounds” may provide both an opportunity most often missing in the long-term professional development of educators and a model for addressing that gap. In an attempt to provide some insight into the mechanisms of voluntary, collaborative reflective inquiry, I provide a short history of Rounds, including the origins of one protocol for the close examination of student work. This is followed by a discussion of both the structures and the rationale for this practice. The essay concludes with two short examples of collaborative reflective inquiry from particular sessions, two analogies that reflect the spirit of the practice, and reflections on the lessons this model may have for the study and practice of reflective inquiry in education.
Student Work as Data: Toward Methods of Investigation and Analysis In the 1980s, Arts Propel, a research and development project combining Project Zero at the Harvard Graduate School of Education with the Educational Testing Service in a multiyear collaboration with the Pittsburgh Public Schools, explored the use of portfolios in assessing student learning in the arts (Gardner 1989). In this project, teachers, researchers, and administrators considered questions about the complex relationship between curriculum and assessment. For example, if student work is to be collected in portfolios, what work will be most worthy of saving and what kind of assignments and projects would have generated that work? This question, central to the design of portfolios, is critical to the issue of reflective inquiry in classrooms and schools. Stated again, what work is worthy of the intense scrutiny and examination that reflective inquiry implies? Yet, as demanding as the challenges of portfolio design (what should be collected, how should it be presented, what critical commentary – if any – should be included) were, the challenges of assessing these portfolios were even greater (Seidel, et€al. 1997). What to do with this mass of student work? How best to go about the task of really studying and interpreting the work in these portfolios in order to gain insight into the student, the teaching, the quality of the assignment, or the nature of the work in which these learners were engaged? These and other questions made this work extremely difficult. On the surface, time was perhaps the most immediate challenge. The time required to review the materials in a single portfolio, let€alone two dozen of these rich collections, is substantial. But time was hardly the only obstacle the teachers and researchers encountered. Indeed, if time had not been an issue at all, the deeper challenges of this work would have only revealed themselves more quickly. While all of the teachers had extensive experience reading student papers or looking at children’s art work, few had significant practice in studying student work, not simply to grade it, but to discover what it might reveal about the student, teaching, and learning. In our group sessions, we noticed that we tended to draw quick conclusions about the quality of a piece of student work, but showed little capacity to sit with the work, drawing out its subtler character. Further, we had little feel for how to structure our conversations to make the most out of the fact that our meetings generally involved almost a dozen people. If twelve heads are better than one, we had not really figured out, in any systematic way, how to reap the benefits of that advantage. Both the problem of how to focus our discussions of particular portfolios or even single pieces of student work and how best to build on the potential of the group to see more than any individual might on her or his own were significant obstacles. Others, though, in various experiments in the 1960s and 1970s had struggled with and documented their own
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experiments with similar challenges. One notable precursor of the Propel work was a teachers’ seminar on children’s thinking, reported on by Bill Hull (1978). Hull, a former teacher and member of the North Dakota Study Group, noted the values of collaboration and a collective agreement to hold strict focus on specific observations of student work and thought – what children did and said in the classroom. In a monograph on the work of the seminar, Hull quotes one of the participants, a classroom teacher. When we changed to being very strict with ourselves about speaking to a specific incident that a teacher brought in about a child in the class – a clear observation about some kind of behavior (backed up with a child’s work if that was relevant) – we all went away feeling that we had grown as teachers in our understanding of how we wanted to go back to the classroom and teach the next day… …we found that focusing on specific observations about a child made more impact on our teaching immediately than most other kinds of talking-type discussions we had participated in before. The discussions were very rich when we looked very carefully at something that had actually happened. The teacher who brought the incident often had her perceptions of it completely turned around by the input from six other people. We always found ourselves going back to look more carefully when that kind of situation came up again (quoted in Hull 1978, 40–41).
This focus on what the poet William Blake called “minute particulars” was echoed in other practices developed in those years. In a 1992 interview, Michael Armstrong argues for taking the texts children create as not only substantive revelations of their thoughts, but also for taking those texts seriously as the early works of artists, philosophers, and writers. So we read and reread the text, to ourselves and to each other, and sometimes we try acting it out to each other, too. All the time we’re trying to concentrate our whole attention on the significance of the words on the page. There’s nothing naïve about this. (…) The trick of reading at this early conversational stage is to bring all our knowledge to bear on the text in front of us and at the same time to listen to the text itself as openly as we can. (1992, 2–4)
Armstrong’s description of the analytic processes he and his students engaged in as they studied children’s stories highlights both a focus on the texts themselves and the search for a method of structuring their investigations of those works. In the late 1980s and the 1990s, a plethora of protocols emerged for the examination of student work, all reflecting the need for a method to guide the inquiry in various settings. Books were written and conferences held (Allen and Blythe 2004; McDonald, et€al.; Mitchell 1996; Carini 2001). Even a website devoted to “looking at student work” was created (http://www. lasw.org/index.html). Systematic efforts were made to incorporate these practices into teachers’ professional development and planning meetings. Most of these practices focused on incorporating these practices in the context of the structures, resources, and constraints of regular schools. Often, though, outside philanthropic dollars were required to support this kind of work as part of school improvement plans. The advent of standards-based reform and high-stakes accountability for schools, primarily determined by students’ scores on standardized tests, seemed to have the effect of shifting priority for staff meeting time to protocols with an accountability dimension, such as the “standards into practice” protocol, developed by Ruth Mitchell and her associates at The Education Trust (Mitchell 1996). This move, away from more open-ended inquiry models, made some protocols, including the Collaborative Assessment Protocol, seem inappropriate for use during the precious little time that was generally available for staff meetings in public schools. Whatever the protocol and its purposes, administrators, coaches or others who facilitated these sessions found themselves struggling with the issue of whether these sessions studying student work should be compulsory or voluntary. Participation in analytic processes can be mandated, but serious and sincere reflective thinking is hard to enforce. Finding the models and purposes for reflective inquiry in schools that teachers could embrace, whether mandated or voluntary, has proven a significant challenge in the era of high-stakes account-
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ability (Weinbaum et€al. 2004). In this context, the need to experiment with multiple dimensions of the close examination of student work became more urgent, including where it might be conducted, who would participate, and the terms of that participation – voluntary or mandatory – as well as the very purposes of the practice.
A Short History of Rounds at Project Zero Since 1995, between 20 and 40 educators have come together on the first Saturday morning of the month throughout the academic year at the Harvard Graduate School of Education. This practice grew out of a confluence of needs, influences, and values. For the previous 10 years, researchers at Project Zero had been working with public school teachers and administrators on projects, such as Arts Propel (Gardner 1989) and The Evidence Project (Seidel, et€ al. 2002) that included both research and development of curriculum and assessment practices. Since these projects involved the participation of teachers and administrators from numerous schools, the researchers became familiar with both excellent established practices and new innovative practices in these various schools. They were often in the position of telling teachers in one school about the exciting work happening in other schools. The desire to promote face-to-face exchange led to a series of Project Zero-sponsored “regional assessment network” meetings – two day conference/workshop-style events. These highly popular and well-attended events were mainly focused on sharing “best practices” and discussions of persistent challenges to innovations and improvements in classroom curriculum and assessment. Teachers and administrators cited these gatherings as powerful provocations to their thought and practice. They found it especially helpful to engage in professional conversations with practitioners who shared many educational purposes and values, as well as perspectives on teaching and learning and, yet, did not share the specific knowledge of each other’s schools. The conversations couldn’t easily veer away from thoughtful sharing of and reflection on practice toward the daily demands of any particular school. These events were supported by sponsored research funds for three years and then, as happens, the funds ran out. By 1993, the focus in national, state, and local school reform efforts was shifted from alternative forms of assessment to more standards-based and accountability-focused forms of evaluation. For two years, there were no formal opportunities for contact among these teachers or with the researchers – no money, no network. At this point, a chance encounter with grand rounds at a major teaching hospital was the provocation for considering another possibility. Medical “rounds” was an innovation of the late nineteenth century as a part of the education of doctors. Credit for its development is given to Sir William Osler, who considered direct contact with patients as the essential element in medical education. Osler, who took the training of doctors out of the lecture hall and into the wards, was reported to have said, “He who studies medicine without books sails an uncharted sea, but he who studies medicine without patients does not go to sea at all.” The emphasis on direct engagement with patients was revolutionary in the world of medical education, and Osler’s belief in the critical need to listen to patients anticipated the impulse behind the close examination of student work. Osler is reported to have been fond of saying, “If you listen carefully to the patient, they will tell you the diagnosis.” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Osler) The most common image of medical “rounds” is probably one of a group of students traveling from bed to bed following an experienced physician, who taught by example (interviewing patients, conducting examinations, and so on) and, stepping from the bedside into the hallway, some version of Socratic questioning. But this was not the structure of
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pediatric grand rounds at this teaching hospital. This was a monthly gathering of physicians of all ages and levels of experience in a small lecture room. The session, offering free coffee and bagels, had two major components: first, a short talk by a researcher on an in-process research study, followed by a short “Q&A” session; and then the presentation of a “mystery case,” a chronologically ordered review of an actual case with particularly difficult diagnostic challenges. One of the fascinating aspects of this structure is the way in which expertise quickly distributes among the participants across age, specialties, and experience. Anyone in the room might have a particularly relevant contribution to make. While this is not a highstakes presentation – the “mystery case” is already solved and the “presenting” physician is in the room, though silent until the group has made the correct diagnosis – the group takes it very seriously and works toward a diagnosis with intensity and cooperation. I drew two conclusions from this opportunity to observe grand rounds. First, it was inexpensive and, though it required some planning and arrangements, it was reasonably easy to prepare the sessions. These were the two key requirements for a structure that might bring the teachers who had participated in our old network meetings back together again. With enough money in our budget for a year’s worth of monthly bagels and coffee, we decided to establish an educational equivalent of medical grand rounds located at the Harvard Graduate School of Education.
Evolution of the Practice: Purposes, Participants, Values and Symbols, and Structures Purposes The broad purposes articulated for creating and sustaining Rounds have been basically consistent since the practice began in 1995. First, following on the richness of the social dimension of the experience of the New England Regional Assessment Network, we wanted to provide an opportunity for area educators to stay in contact with each other. While there was a modest dimension of personal friendship in this social dimension, the relationships that had emerged were essentially professional, but with a strong sense of interest in how each other’s work was developing and progressing. The early sessions were and continue to be characterized by a warmth and sense of concern for and among those attending. Though few participants in Rounds see each other outside the monthly meetings or come every month, a bond and a genuine desire to learn the changes in each other’s work and lives seem to have emerged among participants. In this regard, the gathering time before the session and the mid-morning break are important aspects of the sessions. Yet the social dimension would be unlikely to sustain this monthly practice if the sessions themselves were not rich in content and a sense of purpose. Indeed, the primary commitment of this practice is to engage in collective inquiry into substantive issues of educational practice. Substance, in this context, involves questions and issues that touch on basic philosophical aspects of educational practice, most frequently focused on learning and teaching. In this regard, the focus of most sessions tends toward the examination of questions related to the purposes, values, dilemmas, and moral and political dimensions of educational practice. While discussions of specific pedagogical approaches are common, the sessions are less focused on particular methods of teaching and more concerned with the relationship between learning, teaching and the purposes of schooling. In a sense, the conversations at Rounds explore the foundations of educational practice, but in a way that assumes the foundations are more philosophical than technical or scientific.
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In addition, as the person founding the practice and creating the structure for the sessions, I had a strong need for a setting in which to experiment with protocols for the close examination of student work. Having created a structure, the Collaborative Assessment Conference protocol, for guiding groups of educators in discussions of things children made in school, I was, at that time, deeply involved in facilitating “looking at student work” sessions in numerous schools (Seidel 1998). These sessions did not allow me the flexibility to experiment with the protocol in the ways that I felt I needed. Establishing Rounds, then, was an opportunity to be forthright in announcing that I saw it as a space in which to “play” with the form and structure of the protocol. In so far as any protocol is only effective in relation to the purpose for which it was designed, my experiments with the structure of the protocol was also an exploration of the reasons we were engaged in these processes of examining student work. Again, Rounds was conceptualized as a space in which to examine purposes and practices, in this case, in the context of professional development for educators. Finally, again inspired by medical grand rounds, our educational Rounds were established to create a setting for long-term, sustained professional development. Recognizing that few settings beyond conferences and in-school “PD” exist for educators, Rounds was an attempt to create a space in which educators at all stages of their careers could gather together in dialogue without any obvious hierarchical structures or privilege. The group sits in a circle, and everyone is welcome to speak. Over the years, these basic purposes have remained consistent. Aspects of the structure have evolved, but the essential feeling, tone, and sense of shared commitment have remained remarkably consistent.
Participants The initial participants at Rounds were those on the mailing list of the New England Regional Assessment Network. From the beginning, the size of the group at any particular session has ranged between 20 and 40. Participants are welcome to invite a colleague or two to any session. Once such participants have come to one session, they are, at their request, added to the mailing list and are then welcome to come as often or as little as they would like. Some people come quite regularly; others only infrequently. Over the years, the mailing list has grown steadily, but almost entirely by personal invitation. Avoiding publicity about Rounds has had the effect of limiting the growth of the group. Sessions with more than 40 people begin to feel too large to sustain a sense of connection and intimacy. Over the years, the character of the group has evolved in at least two distinct ways. First, the initial participants were almost entirely teachers and administrators from area schools, giving the sessions a focus totally grounded in classroom experience. In time, the expansion of the group has brought people with other roles in the broad education enterprise, including researchers, higher education faculty (notably teacher educators), people working with learners in out-of-school settings (adult ESL, for example), teaching artists, and people working on policy issues. Today, the group at any particular session will have people representing at least six distinct educational roles. The second evolution in the character of the group is age. Over almost 15 years, the “regulars” have become older. At the same time, numerous recent graduates of the Harvard Graduate School of Education, who have learned of Rounds from their teachers or friends, have become part of the regular group, and they tend to be younger and less experienced than many of the initial participants. This has led to a significant spread in age and years of experience in the group. This particular diversity has made our educational rounds more
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like the medical grand rounds, a far more mature practice, in terms of the great range in age and experience there. Similarly, while age and experience only provide an advantage in certain ways, youth or inexperience often provides fresh and novel perspectives of great value to all participating. In short, both developments have provided a provocative diversity to Rounds over the years. At the same time, it is important to note that, with some very important exceptions, there has been little racial diversity in the group over the years; the group has consistently been predominantly white. To be sure, many participants work in settings with highly diverse (racially, economically, linguistically, and culturally) student populations, but that fact has not led to a significant evolution in the racial make-up of the group. There are certainly many possible explanations for this fact, but perhaps two elements of an explanation are that Rounds is not dedicated to focus on any particular student group (age, location, socio-economic status, etc.) and the long-standing tendency for the progressive educational movement to be dominated by white educators with few effective and sustained alliances with educators of color, though those educators may indeed share many of the values of the progressive movement. In any case, as speculative as these suggestions are, it is a sad fact that Rounds has not, to date, emerged as a setting that seems to attract sustained participation by educators of color in significant numbers.
Values and Symbols The values embedded in Rounds are reflected in various aspects of the structure and rituals of the sessions. A short description of a session reveals a number of values that ground the practice. To start, participants are invited to arrive half an hour before the session actually begins. In that time, coffee, tea, and bagels are ready and waiting for them. In addition to being a free activity, we want to create a sense that we are sensitive to social, intellectual, and physical needs. The culinary and intellectual fare is simple, almost basic, but also sustaining. When the session begins, participants form a circle. Nobody is allowed to sit outside the circle. Our obsessive concern with forming a circle reflects a basic principle – everyone should be able to see everyone else. Or, put another way, no one should be invisible to others. No disembodied voices should be heard coming from some corner of the room. In other words, the circle is a democratizing shape, providing equal presence to everyone present. Perhaps, this is at least one reason why we call it “Rounds.” The structure of the sessions, explained at length in the next section, reflects the two values probably most essential to Rounds – collectivity and inquiry. In this context, collectivity is fueled by the desire of each individual to be part of a larger social unit, especially one in which there is a sense of shared values. There is also a recognition that the problems educators face are far more complex than any individual can address or solve and that, collectively, we may be able to make progress in our thinking, as a group and as individuals, that we simply can not achieve on our own. At the beginning of each session, we do introductions and each person is asked to share his or her name and professional role. As we go around the circle, the announcement of so many different roles is a reminder to all that the group contains a tremendously rich range of perspectives as well as many years of experience in education. People have frequently expressed their appreciation of the ways in which the insights and perspectives shared during a session have provoked their own thinking and their ability to consider the problem in the conversation. In establishing the initial structure of Rounds, I had hoped to create the simultaneous feeling that the sessions were very predictable in their shape but unpredictable in where the inquiry would lead. Indeed, there is a sense that we are improvising within the context of a number of very prescribed forms – the structure of the overall session, the steps of
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the protocol for looking at student work, sitting in a circle, and adhering to our simple discussion protocols.
Structures Getting Started with a Question The structure of Rounds has changed remarkably little since 1995. In the first years, the sessions began, after each person introducing her or himself, with a volunteer, established in advance, sharing an example of project-based learning from her or his classroom or school and a question or issue that had emerged from that experience. This led into roughly an hour-long discussion of the project and the question. The purpose of these conversations was not to answer the question or solve the teacher’s problem. Rather the goal was to use the example offered and the question as a provocation to share thoughts and perspectives from one’s experience. Often, and usually most productively, the discussions were explorations of the question itself. In time, though, the focus on project-based learning felt somewhat restrictive, especially as a wider-range of roles in educational practice were represented in the group. Fewer participants came from classrooms in which they conducted project-based learning. Opening this section of the session to volunteers coming from roles outside the classroom meant that we had to open the frame to include the sharing of any question or issue arising from an individual’s practice that is likely to be resonant to most others in the group. Finding a question that isn’t too broad or too specific is the trick of preparing this part of the monthly session. The Close Examination of Student Work After a break, we reconvene and leave a few minutes for people to share announcements they feel would be of interest to others in the group. These are usually about new books or articles or lectures and other public events that relate to some aspect of our recent conversations. Then, we turn to our investigation of a piece or pieces of student work. Again, the work to be considered has been brought, by prior arrangement, by a volunteer from the group. The next hour is spent discussing that work, following the Collaborative Assessment Protocol, as it has evolved in our sessions over the last decade. While a full discussion on the development and structure of this protocol is neither possible nor entirely necessary in this essay, a few points about the protocol are important to understanding the way in which Rounds functions as a compelling form of reflective inquiry for experienced educators. The very need for a protocol, however, suggests that there had been a perceived need for help in having a particular kind of conversation (McDonald, Mohr, Dichter & McDonald 2003). In this case, the concern emerged during the early years of the portfolio assessment movement in the context of the Arts Propel project, as noted earlier. The difficulty teachers and administrators had having probing investigations of student work indicated that certain “rules” might help promote richer dialogue. Most of the guidelines established early on remain. Participants are discouraged from making judgments about the work being discussed. At the same time, they are encouraged to start the investigation by sharing what they noticed and can describe about the work itself. This description of the work serves to focus everyone on the work, not their judgments of it, and to help each other see more aspects of the work than they might have on their own. At the same time, the work is presented with as little context shared as possible. The group does not know the age or gender of the
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student or the nature of the assignment, or other information generally considered absolutely essential to make sense of student work. This stripping the work of its context only lasts until around the mid-point of the protocol when the “presenting” teacher is asked to provide whatever contextual information seems especially important to a full understanding of the work. Reading the work without knowledge of its context serves, again, to focus the group on the work itself, what is there, placed there by the student. Though not a rule, participants are reminded that the purpose of the protocol is to examine the student work closely enough to discover both questions and insights about learning, teaching, and the nature of work in the discipline or genre/style the work is in. The protocol is a provocation to further inquiry. When it works well, participants discover, through slow careful analysis of the work itself, questions of educational significance that feel worthy of extended consideration. Toward this end, the entire protocol is leading toward the identification of questions and issues in learning and teaching. In brief, the steps of the protocol are as follows: 1. Silent reading of the work. (Works under consideration may be visual, text-based, performance-based, or some combination of all three. “Reading” is used to capture all forms of attentive and careful apprehension of the work in all of its forms.) 2. Description of the work. 3. Noting emotional aspects of the work, including both what emotions the work describes or expresses and what emotions it provokes in the reader. 4. Naming questions that emerge in reading the work. These could be questions with answers or more speculative questions. They most often pertain to the work itself, but sometimes are broader questions about learning, teaching, or the kind of work being done by the student. 5. Sharing speculations on what the student was working on. This is intended to encourage the group to see the process and the student’s intentionality and effort in the visible elements of the work itself. While these comments are purely speculative, they also help participants see more in the work and often serves to deepen the group’s appreciation of the student’s intelligence and effort. 6. The “presenting” teacher shares contextual information and her or his own observations and questions provoked by the work. 7. Identifying implications of the group’s reading of this work for broader issues of learning and teaching. If some issues emerge as especially common concerns, the group may go more deeply into a discussion on that issue. Often, though, this is more of a cataloguing of a range of issues and questions provoked by the study of this student work. It is up to the individuals when and how to pursue these questions. 8. Reflection on the usefulness of the protocol in this session. Did the protocol and its facilitation help the group to get to important and significant ideas, insights and new questions? If not, what should be considered as adjustments in future sessions? “What it Means to be Educators…?” Until 2001, Rounds sessions ended with the examination of the student work. In our meeting in October, 2001, we examined a poem written by a New York City elementary school student just after September 11 that had been published in the New York Times. A month later, concerned that we might simply fall back into our regular patterns unaffected by the profound events of September 11th, we began taking the last 15€minutes of the session to share thoughts on what it means to an educator in a time of war. As with the other segments of these sessions, there was no imperative to find a precise answer to the question or leave with any kind of action plan. There is not even the expectation that comments will necessarily be the responses to what anyone else had said. In fact, it is, again, simply a time to share thoughts, to listen, to reflect.
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Since the articulation of that framing question in 2001, there has been an extended discussion on whether the question itself is satisfying and appropriate. Participants have raised questions about what counts as “war” and who even gets to determine what is a war and what conflicts are not to be “counted” as wars. We’ve experimented with numerous variations on the original question, including asking what it means to be educators in a time of violence and what it means to be educators in a time of hope. Several others have been used along the way. The current statement of the question is: what does it mean to be an educator at this moment in history? However this question may further evolve (and there is little doubt that it will), it has proven robust in provoking serious consideration of the relationship between what happens in the confines of the classroom and what is going on in the world outside the classroom. Throughout these changes, the slow evolution of this conversation over months and years in 10–15€minutes increments has been a remarkable example of the exploration of a question as a form of rigorous and sustained reflective inquiry into a matter of central concern to any educator. The stories and thoughts shared suggest that the walls of the classroom are never impervious to the world. The world comes through the door with every student and, indeed, with the teacher every day. It can not be kept out.
Two Stories of Reflective Inquiry from Sessions of Rounds “When is the Work Finished?” In one session in the late 1990s, a teacher shared a piece of historical fiction about a girl growing up in China in the nineteenth century. The work was typed and several pages long. It seemed to demonstrate considerable knowledge of the setting and time in which it was set as well as a fine grasp of the principles of fiction writing. The story was engaging; the characters were believable and very human. Our examination of the work was lively and the further we went, the deeper our fascination with the work. The process of describing the work served to reveal the complexity of the student’s ambition and her or his accomplishments. When we listened to the presenting teacher share context and her questions about the work, it became clear that there had been differences of opinion between the teacher and the student about whether the work was “finished.” In this case, the teacher thought more work could be done on the writing, but the student felt it was complete. By the measure of the basic requirements of the teacher’s assignment, the student had clearly “done the work.” But the teacher felt it could be better; she wanted the student to push, to go further. For her part, the student had either tired of the work, felt concerned about messing it up with more tinkering, simply couldn’t really figure how to improve it, or for some other reason did not feel inclined to continue working on it. The group became fascinated by this resonant problem. As one person stated it, when is a work done – when we (teachers) say it is or when they (students) say it is? Who has that authority over the work? If we want to encourage students to feel ownership over their work, what does it mean if we reserve the right to tell them when it is complete? On the other hand, isn’t it our responsibility to push students to produce the best possible work? The conversation was spirited (lots of thoughts and opinions were expressed on all sides of the matter) and the complexity of the issue kept revealing itself, in time touching on moral and relational dimensions as well as basic questions of growth and development in the realms of writing and history. In short, our reading of this piece of historical fiction provoked an investigation of a question, elegant in its simplicity and yet profound in its implications – when is a piece of student work finished?
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“First Principle: Happiness.” In a more recent session, in the opening section of the morning, the group grappled with a question I presented which was drawn from a comment made by a teacher I had met on a recent trip to Nanjing, China. In brief, as I presented the question to the group, I explained that, having observed an art lesson in a kindergarten, I asked the teacher to explain how she had developed the lesson. Through our interpreter, she responded, “First principle, happiness.” And then continued to explain how she saw experience and emotion as connected, but I had trouble following the details of that part of her response. At Rounds, I explained that this “first principle” of curriculum design was quite unusual in my experience and that the only similar articulation of educational principles I had encountered was by Loris Malaguzzi, founder of the well-known preschools in Reggio Emilia, Italy. Malaguzzi is reported to have suggested a guiding principle for the Reggio schools: “Nothing without joy.” These suggestions, coming from these two cultures, so different from each other and each so different from ours, were the catalyst for my question: What if these principles – happiness and “nothing without joy” – were a fundamental principle in curriculum and school design, not only for preschools, but elementary, middle, high, college, and/or graduate schools? Would that be absurd? Would that be impossible? What would it mean you might do differently if that was your principle? As hoped, the diverse roles and experiences of those at Rounds that morning led to a conversation that surfaced very personal reflections, political considerations, epistemological questions, and various cultural insights. One thought shared early in the conversation explored the relationship between emotion and learning, particularly the ways in which children seem to get pleasure from pursuing what interests them in their classrooms. Several people offered stories and insights about relational aspects of learning and their influence on the pleasure of learning with others, specifically the joys of working and learning in relatively nonhierarchical social settings. One person shared a personal story which happened many years ago when she was pursuing her doctorate. She remembered having found herself complaining about the work and realized that she had chosen to do this doctoral program. She decided to ask her friends to tell her if she ever stopped looking like she was having fun, having determined that if the work ceased to be fun, she would drop out of the program. The whole learning experience had become governed by a personal commitment to the principle of “nothing without joy” on the doctoral level. Others explored the meaning of joy and happiness in China and Italy, particularly the ways in which in each country, though with different nuances, happiness was tied to identification with a group. In the U.S., it was noted, happiness is often conceived of as much more of an individual experience. Several classroom teachers spoke about the fear of not being taken seriously if their classrooms seemed to be “too much fun.” They were not so much worried about the students being dissatisfied with having fun, but that parents and administrators would not think they were doing their job, not being “rigorous,” “on-task,” and concerned with the standards. As in the discussion on the historical fiction, this question was posed not with the expectation of getting an answer so much as seeking an exploration of the dimensionality of the question itself and the complexity of the pursuit of ideas and answers to it. In this regard, it was a successful conversation. The question certainly had more to explore than I would have been able to articulate before the session and it has served to hold the question in my mind in much more substantive and nuanced ways since then. Further, our conversation has been referenced several times since in subsequent sessions, having become part of our collective inquiry. Perhaps one of the reasons we continue with Rounds and the particular form of reflective practice it represents is the way it allows us to find connection with others through sharing our interests, concerns, and confusions as educators.
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The Spirit of this Practice: Two Analogies It can be argued that nothing concrete comes out of this form of reflective inquiry. The questions and issues discussed are never resolved, and no action plan ever emerges. Indeed, there is no particular way to argue that Rounds improves educational practice in any setting. Yet, month after month and year after year, people continue to arrive on the first Saturday of the month for whatever these three hours of coffee, bagels, and conversation provide. Why? One regular participant, during a discussion on why people come to Rounds, suggested that it was “like going to Yoga – except for educators.” Others agreed and we discussed the aptness of the analogy. Like yoga practice, Rounds is meditative, but also quite active and stimulating. It demands stretching and pushing, though far more of the mind and emotions than the body. It asks participants to exercise an intense awareness of what is happening in the moment, following along with the twists and turns of the conversation. At times, too, in Rounds, there are astonishing moments of insight and inspiration. In my personal experience of these sessions, I have come to notice – and look forward to – a particular kind of moment that occurs sometimes when we are examining the student work. I will suddenly see dimensions and qualities in the work that I simply had not been able to see before. These are revealed by patient attention to each of the many layers of detail noticed and noted by the group. This experience of sudden awareness of the complexity and seriousness has an almost magical quality to it. What had seemed a fairly mundane 7 year olds’ drawing of farm equipment, for example, or an 11 year olds’ story of a family outing suddenly reveals itself a work of deep meaning and significance. These moments provoke a feeling, however fleeting, of deep respect and appreciation for both the artists and authors of the works we are examining and for the people in the room who have gathered to study these remarkable works. With some frequency, especially when noting the degree to which those who come to Rounds seem to share many basic educational values, I have been accused of “preaching to the choir.” Indeed, I believe it is the case that those who choose to come to Rounds on a Saturday morning are “the faithful.” However, I don’t think I am, as a facilitator of these sessions, “preaching” so much as leading the choir in rehearsal. And, to be sure, building on this second analogy, every choir needs such practice. Effective rehearsals are demanding events and require intense listening and rigorous examination of the musical text. Collectively, the choir is trying to find the beauty and meaning of the hymn, mass, or madrigal. Ironically, the accusation of “preaching to the choir” reveals the aptness of the choir rehearsal as an appropriate analogy for Rounds, evoking, as it does, images of the close study of a text, the requirement of an intense collective effort, and the search for insight and new ideas from texts that might seem, at first glance, all-too-familiar.
Toward a Philosophy of Practice As an uncommon, though not unique, form of reflective inquiry in education, Rounds offers both lessons and questions for those committed to creating and studying reflective practices in the lives of educators. Since most of these practices are located in the context of specific schools, Rounds represents, if not an alternative, then a model exploring another dimension of reflective practices – fully voluntary and drawing participants from across a wide range of educational settings. Where a central purpose of many school-based inquiry processes is to investigate specific issues and questions related to learning and teaching in that setting with a defined set of students, this could hardly be a core purpose of the model explored in this chapter.
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While Rounds certainly shares the goal of improving educational practice, it is not designed to address specific issues and does not directly lead to specific subsequent actions aimed at achieving better learning outcomes. Yet, this practice shares Dewey’s goal for reflective thinking – “to know what we are about when we act.” Perhaps the Rounds model offers an especially useful contribution to a larger understanding of the complex dynamics of reflective inquiry in the particular ways in which these sessions offer participants perspective on their own thought and practice. When the group gathers for Rounds on the first Saturday of the month, the conversation proceeds at a remove from the specific realities of any particular school or educational setting. Everyone has stepped away from the micro-view of their work situation that they necessarily hold when in their building. In a sense, the design of Rounds requires getting some distance from the details of daily work. And distance, along with the diversity of perspectives expressed in the sessions, creates the possibility of seeing one’s own setting in new ways and possibly to re-enter it on Monday morning with new ideas. Further, these Saturday sessions provide an ongoing setting to examine one’s basic ideas about the purposes of education and the values that inform one’s educational practice – two essential elements of a philosophy of education. The speed and demands of daily life in schools provide many reasons, but few opportunities, for examining one’s philosophy of practice, searching deeply into why we do what we do in the way we do it. The experience of Rounds suggests that a significant goal of reflective inquiry may well be to create a space in which participants can, over time, as slowly and painstakingly as this usually is, examine and develop the foundations of their own philosophy of practice.
References Allen, D. (ed). (1998). Assessing student learning: from grading to understanding. New York: Teachers College Press. Allen, D., & Blythe, T. (2004). The facilitator’s book of questions: tools for looking together at student and teacher work. New York: Teachers College Press. Armstrong, M. (1980). Closely observed children: the diary of a primary classroom. London: Writers and Readers Publishing Cooperative Society Ltd. Armstrong, M. (1992). Children’s stories as literature. In: Bread Loaf News Spring/Summer 1992 (pp. 2–4). Middlebury, VT: Middlebury College. Armstrong, M. (2006). Children Writing Stories. McGraw-Hill International. Blythe, T., Allen, D., & Powell, B. S. (2006). Looking together at student work: A companion guide to assessing student learning (2nd ed.). New York: Teachers College Press. Carini, P. F. (2001). Starting strong: a different look at children schools and standards. New York: Teachers College Press. Carroll, D., Featherstone, H., Featherstone, J., Feiman-Nemser, S., & Roosevelt, D. (2007). Transforming teacher education: reflections from the field. Cambridge: Harvard Education Press. Dewey, J. (1964). On Education: Selected Writings, edited and with an Introduction by Reginald C. Archibault. New York: Random House Duckworth, E. (1996). “The having of wonderful ideas” & other essays on teaching and learning. New York: Teachers College Press. Duckworth, E. (2001). Tell me more: Listening to learner’s explain. New York: Teachers College Press. Engel, B., & Martin, A. (eds). (2005). Holding Values. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Fearhart, M., Curry, M., & Kafka, J. (2003). Looking at student work for teacher learning, teacher community, and school reform. Phi Delta Kappan, 85(3), 185–192. Featherstone, H. (Ed). (Spring, 1998) Changing minds, Bulletin 13 (whole issue). East Lansing: College of Education, Michigan State University. Gardner, H. (1989). Zero-based arts education: An introduction to Arts PROPEL. Studies in Art Education: A Journal of Issues and Research, 30(2), 71–83. Hull, B. (1978). Teachers’ seminars on children’s writing: a progress report. Grand Forks, ND: North Dakota Study Group on Evaluation.
15â•… Reflective Inquiry in the Round Kanevsky, R., & Cochran-Smith, M. (1991). Descriptive review: A way of knowing about teaching and learning. In S. Lytle (Ed.), Inside/Outside. New York: Teachers College Press. Little, J. W. (1990). The persistence of privacy: autonomy and initiative in teachers’ professional relations. Teacher’s College Record, 91(4), 509–536. McDonald, J., Mohr, N., Dichter, A., & McDonald, E. (2003). The power of protocols: an educator’s guide to better practice. New York: Teachers College Press. Meier, D. (2002). The power of their ideas: lessons for america from a small school in harlem. Boston: Beacon Press. Mitchell, R. (1996). Front end alignment: using standards to steer educational change – a manual for developing standards. Washington, D.C.: Education Trust. Norlander-Case, K. A., Reagan, T. G., & Case, C. W. (1999). The professional teacher: the preparation and nurturance of the reflective practitioner. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass Publications. Seidel, S. (1998). Wondering to be Done. In D. Allen (Ed.), Assessing student learning: from grading to understanding (pp. 21–39). New York: Teachers College Press. Seidel, S., Walters, J., Kirby, E., & Powell, K. (1997). Portfolio practices: thinking through the assessment of children’s work. Washington DC: National Education Association. Seidel, S., Blythe, T., Allen, D., Simon, D.D., Veenema, S., Turner, T., & Clark, L. (2002). The evidence process: A collaborative approach to understanding and improving teaching and learning. Cambridge, MA: Project Zero, Harvard Graduate School of Education. Weinbaum, A., Blythe, T., Allen, D., Simon, D. D., Veenema, S., Turner, T., & Clark, L. (2004). Teaching as inquiry: asking hard questions to improve practice and student achievement. New York: Teachers College Press.
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Part V
Professional Pedagogies and Research Practices: Teaching and Researching Reflective Inquiry
The seven chapters of Part V cohere around several themes: reflective practice serves social and intellectual purposes; community is essential to the development of one’s capacity to engage in reflective practice; transformation of the individual, and through the individual, society sits at the core of reflective practice; reflective practice involves a new epistemology; and reflective practice shapes one’s identity and life. These authors especially illuminate in rich and elaborate ways how pedagogical practices as well as research agendas are rooted in important theoretical and conceptual frameworks; or, when they are not, how shallow pedagogies and research can and will be. See Kegan and Lahey and Kelly in the following for explicit examples. Asking where a pedagogical practice or research project is rooted is one way to explore these ideas.
Chapter 16: Anna Richert and Clare Bove’s Chapter 15, “Inquiry for equity: Supporting teacher research” kicks off Part V, Professional pedagogies and research practices: Teaching & researching reflective practice. Three pillars – inquiry, community, and agency – are central to their work. Cohering around a productive teacher research question, each of these essential elements increases the possibilities of both excellence and equity being lived in urban classrooms. Two paradigm shifts also stand out in this chapter: the image of teacher as a scholar and the image of professor as a pedagogue, walking alongside the teacher learner as he or she strives to better understand diverse students in his or her care. The latter image echoes Schwab’s (1983) idea concerning “something for curriculum professors to do.”
Chapter 17: Titled “Doing as I do,” Chapter 16 is authored by Vicki Kubler LaBoskey and Mary Lynn Hamilton. Written in the self-study genre, LaBoskey and Hamilton’s essay mirrors Richert and Bove’s chapter in one major way: both chapters assert that reflective practice serves the purpose of equity and is not an end goal in its own right. Another important similarity between the two works is the primacy of modeling to the reflective practice enterprise. Whereas Richert and Bove offer models for practicing teachers who, in turn, are role models for K-12 students, LaBoskey and Hamilton’s teacher educator is the role model for tomorrow’s teachers who will, in turn, educate tomorrow’s students. Through a reciprocal process of doing, both approaches enhance civic capacity. Thus, for LaBoskey and Hamilton, transformative reflective teacher education can only occur through the selftransformation of teacher educators.
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Chapter 18: Martina Kelly’s Chapter, Teaching and Researching Reflective Inquiry in Medical Education Through a Portfolio Process examines the portfolio as a means to scaffold reflective practice in Medical education. While reflection and portfolios are relatively new to medical education, they have been widely embraced. Although reflection and portfolio use are rooted in adult learning theory, this assumes that both students and staff actively engage in learning relationships based on mutual trust. However, traditional medicine is hierarchal. Kelly sees the gauntlet thrown down at traditional medicine. She elaborates some implications.
Chapter 19: In “Narrative inquiry as reflective practice: Tensions and possibilities,” (Charles) Aiden Downey and D. Jean Clandinin also emphasize the importance of showing as opposed to telling. They, too, discuss the “end game” – which, for them – and from a research perspective, is further invitation to inquiry. Additionally, Downey and Clandinin discuss subtle differences between reflective practice and narrative inquiry, one being that narrative inquiry is less concerned about a particular situation than with how many situations compose a person’s life; another being narrative inquiry’s closer attention to esthetics. Indeed, the curriculum of life is central to the narrative inquiry research enterprise.
Chapter 20: John Loughran’s Chapter 20, “Reflection through collaborative action research and inquiry,” moves the focus from teacher research (Richert & Bove), self-study (LaBoskey & Hamilton), and narrative inquiry (Downey & Clandinin) into the terrain of collaborative action research. As with previous chapters, the involvement of others in both individual and shared inquiries is foundational. Loughran’s chapter also stresses the key idea that learning cannot take place without reflection. Also, the idea of distance allowing individuals to view situations from multiple perspectives is emphasized.
Chapter 21: Developing Transformative Curriculum Leaders Through Reflective Inquiry Loughran’s Chapter gives way to Chen Ai Yen and David Ng’s Chap. 21, “Developing transformative curriculum leaders through reflective inquiry.” Yen and Ng’s contribution forges connections between Eastern and Western cultural understandings and reflective inquiry. Concerned with management and leadership, five themes distinguish this work: teachers’ personal beliefs and values and self-learning; students’ learning, their motivation and development in relation to experience; students’ learning and parental support in relation to value education; teachers’ learning about their role in implementing educational policies and reforms; and learning wisdom to make right judgments and decisions on larger educational issues. Also vital to this chapter is the idea of transformation, a concept that received considerable attention in LaBoskey and Hamilton’s Chap. 16.
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Chapter 22: Robert Kegan and Lisa Laskow Lahey’s Chapter 22, “From subject to object: A constructivist-developmental approach to reflective practice,” presents an epistemology of adult meaning-making in the business arena. They describe three successively encompassing epistemologies: socialized mind, self-authoring mind, and selftransforming mind. Once again, the idea of self and transformation emerge as key ideas. Also, the idea of group-think, commonly thought to be an Eastern phenomenon, is interrogated. To Kegan and Lahey’s way of thinking, the origin of group-think has more to do with complexity of mind than a specific culture. Taken together, the chapters in Part V challenge readers to think more deeply and comprehensively about researching and teaching reflective practice. While the units of analysis differ across the featured pedagogical and research approaches, all suggest a “new epistemology of practice” (Schon, I995) – one where showing not telling sits at the core of the reflective practice enterprise. Central to this approach is the professional as person and his or her transformation achieved through interaction and deliberation in community.
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Chapter 16
Inquiry for Equity: Supporting Teacher Research Anna E. Richert and Claire Bove
Introduction I often think that if we knew what worked for kids who are not served well by the existing system, we wouldn’t have an achievement gap, or any of our other labels/euphemisms. So if that‘s true, then inquiry becomes central to our efforts to reach all students; we must discover why and how some things “work” to reach these students and others don’t. However, I also think that we do know many of the things these students need. We just don’t as a society and a system provide them. In which case, it’s not about using inquiry to learn how to effectively teach (or design schools for) low achieving students. Inquiry becomes a tool we can use to document our struggles. Either way, I see inquiry as a chance to shed light on students and issues that are usually overlooked. It’s like trying to navigate across an ocean in the 1400s. There are very few maps, but you can try to use the stars to figure out where to go next. If only we as a society believed that our survival depended on figuring out the route. Inquiry alone is not enough, far from it. But without asking the questions, there is no way to get there. Alex1, 1/08 freewrite
Alex is a high school history teacher in a large, comprehensive urban high school in California. She is part of a teacher research group we co-direct. Her comment highlights the concerns that motivate our effort to support teachers in our community to maintain a reflective inquiry stance toward their practice. Like many of her teaching colleagues, Alex is concerned with the achievement gap at her school – a gap that parallels national trends indicating lower achievement levels in reading and mathematics on the National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP) assessments for African American and Hispanic students than their White peers. These students have lower graduation rates as well (Banks et€ al. 2005). Villegas and Lucas suggest that this “consistent gap between racial/ethnic minority and poor students and their White, middle class peers…is indicative of the inability of the educational system to effectively teach students of color as schools have traditionally been structured” (p. 9) (Villegas and Lucas 2002). In our view, one of the ways in which the traditional structure of school inhibits progress in meeting the learning needs of the increasingly diverse population of students is the lack of learning opportunities they provide for teachers. In order to meet the changing needs students, teachers need to
A. Richert Mills College, Oakland, CA, USA e-mail:
[email protected] The names used in this chapter are actual teachers’ names. Since some of our data are anonymous, not all quotes are identified by name.
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have built into their work opportunities for professional learning and growth. Seymour Sarason warned us decades ago, if schools are not learning environments for teachers, they will never be so for students (Sarason 1990).
The Context The schools in the urban setting, where the project we describe in this chapter is located, are rapidly changing institutions due to demographics, which present many new challenges for teachers. Drawing on the 2003 findings from the National Center for Educational Statistics (NCES), a branch of the US Department of Education, Hollins and Guzman report that “the percentage of all public school students from ethnic minority groups increased dramatically from 22% in 1972 to 39% in 2000” (p. 477) (Hollins and Guzman 2005). They report also that by the year 2035 students of color will constitute the statistical majority in US public schools. By 2050, the percentage of students of color in public schools is predicted to reach 57% (p. 478). Currently, in California where we teach, only 33.3% of the K-12 school population is European American. While the student population in US public schools is becoming increasingly diverse, the teaching population remains predominantly White. Also drawing on the 2003 NCES findings Zumwalt and Craig (2005) report that in 1999–2000, 84% of the public school teaching force was White (Zumwalt and Craig 2005). Of the remaining 16%, “7.8% were African American, 5.7% Hispanic, 1.6% Asian and .8% Native American” (p. 114). A high percentage of US teachers – and most who teach in urban schools – are teaching students whose backgrounds are different from their own, which characterizes the experience of the teachers in our Inquiry Project. The issue of racial and ethnic diversity in public schools is confounded by poverty, which also impacts student achievement and warrants consideration by teachers. According to a 2005 UNICEF report, the US has the highest rate of childhood poverty among Western democratic nations (UNICEF 2005). African American and Hispanic children are hardest hit by poverty; in 2002, the percentage of African American and Hispanics living in poverty was 24 and 22%, respectively. This contrasts with non-Hispanic Whites and Asians whose poverty levels were 8 and 10%, respectively (United States Census Bureau 2003). Socio-economic status adds another dimension of difference between teachers and the children in their charge.
Preparing Teachers to Respond The challenge we face as a nation is how to respond to these demographics so that our educational system meets the needs of our diverse student population. The persistent and growing achievement gap suggests we are not yet successful in doing so. Addressing this problem requires multi-pronged effort that draws on the knowledge and talents of multiple constituencies: school, district, state and national leaders, parents and community members, university researchers, the interested and concerned public, and most centrally, teachers. The approach that we take in our work to address this challenge involves preparing and supporting teachers with the knowledge, skills, and dispositions to change their practice as needed by their changing circumstances. Teachers who have the ability to engage in reflective inquiry are well situated to learn and understand the context within which they work and make adjustments in their practice as needed.
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The project we describe in the following pages is designed to support teachers who teach in urban schools to develop and maintain a reflective inquiry stance toward their work. Alex, whose quote opened our chapter, highlights the reason for our focus on inquiry. She argues that teachers need to “discover why and how some things ‘work’ to reach these students (who are not successful in school) and others don’t.” To discover how some things work to help students engage in school and learn, teachers need to be able to frame questions about their teaching and pursue answers that will guide their evolving practice. They need time and support for pursuing those questions, and an opportunity to share both their inquiries and findings with colleagues.
The Mills Scholars Project The Mills Scholars is a university-based program of professional development for educators,2 designed to provide those resources of time and support for professional inquiry. For over 10 years, the group has functioned to support 15–20 teachers and school leaders each year as they engage in inquiry projects designed to help them understand their practice and the consequence of that practice for their students. The teachers in the project are MA graduates from the university’s teacher credential program who are teaching, or working in leadership positions, in neighboring urban schools. Most hold full-time positions. The work of the Mills Scholars is both individual and collaborative. Each teacher chooses an inquiry question and conducts his or her own year-long investigation. The project has two facilitators who plan for and meet regularly with the scholars.3 One of the facilitators holds a university-based faculty position and the other is a middle school science teacher on leave. Over the course of the school year, the teachers conduct individual inquiries about their practice. After framing a focus question, they collect data in their classrooms and school sites. Once a month, the group comes together to work collaboratively. At these meetings, the scholars work in both full and small group configurations to talk through their project, ask for specific help on difficult issues, and push deeper into the analysis of their data, and the implications of that analysis for changed practice. In addition to the regular monthly meeting, there are optional interim work meetings where the scholars come together at the university to work individually and consult with one another. At the request of the participants, the group facilitators provide a structure for the inquiry work with assignments, readings, and writing prompts to help them move through the inquiry process of identifying and defining a question, collecting and analyzing data, putting the investigation into the larger context through reading the literature, and coming to new understandings of the issues under study. The last step in the process is when the teacher scholar shares his or her investigations and new understandings with a larger audience. For a 2-year period we, as facilitators, have conducted a study of the project for the purpose of understanding its impact.4 By conducting this on-going research, we have been able to respond quickly to events that occur in the work and draw directly on the experiences and expertise of the scholars to do so. This sharing of the meta-analysis of the project
2 The composition of the group changes from year to year. The most recent cohort of Scholars had 18 teachers: two African American, one Asian American, one Latina and two men. The rest were White women. All were teaching in local urban schools. 3 The facilitators of the project are the authors of this paper. 4 An overview of the methodology we used to study the Scholars Project is described briefly in Appendix.
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between the scholars and the facilitators helped establish a forum for shared leadership between the scholars and the group facilitators; the scholars were able to provide feedback to the facilitators about the facilitators’ “findings,” and the facilitators were able to respond immediately. These data sharing conversations are both practical and philosophical. They have created a sense of mutuality and “joint work,” which Little claims is the basis of effective collaboration (Little 2003).
Creating a Community of Support Early on in our study of the project, we learned of how central the intellectual community created by the Scholars Project is to the participants. The teachers report over and over again how important to their sense of themselves as teachers and professionals it is to be part of this research community that is focused on studying practice. They claim the collaborative conversation about teaching that is something which they seldom experience at their schools. One scholar explained, I think this is an invaluable resource as it gives teachers a way to reflect on their own practice as well as connect with other teachers about how to improve their practice. Both of these functions seldom happen in a school day.
Having time for this collaboration underscores the seriousness of the work. Another scholar wrote, This group provides a space for me to reflect and think critically about my practice. At school, often the conversations are brief due to time or based on questions that need immediate answers. Here, I can take a step back from daily pressures and look more broadly at my practice.
High on the list of reasons for joining the Scholars Project is that it offers the teacher participants a way to connect with other teachers who are also concerned about the sad state of the schools in our area and the predictable low achievement of students of color. They explained that studying their teaching is the first step in developing their practice, which in turn becomes the first step in bringing about change. As facilitators, we were curious about this. We wanted to know more about how the scholars viewed and engaged in that change process. At the start, we were particularly interested in the role of community since the scholars mentioned so frequently the importance of being part of this learning community. We wondered if it was simply the act of coming together with like-minded colleagues to talk about teaching or if there was something about the inquiry part of the work that made the change possible. In planning the project, we identified building community as a strategy for supporting inquiry because of our belief that knowledge is socially constructed. If knowledge is socially constructed, then teachers need support for talking with one another about professional matters as they continue to learn in and from their work. While building community was an early goal of the project, however, we had conceptualized inquiry rather than community as the centerpiece. We saw community as a building block for our inquiry agenda. About half way through the year, we reported back to the scholars our growing understanding from their feedback about the importance of the scholars’ community. We explained that data we had studied up to that point caused us to wonder if we might shift our methodology from being a group that has an inquiry focus to be a conversation group that met regularly to talk over the dilemmas of practice in general. We explained that we were curious about the role of inquiry in our group’s methodology. This question and the responses that it generated marked a turning point for both our group and our understanding of the work we were doing together.
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Why Inquiry It was clear from the teachers’ response to our question just how important the inquiry approach is both to their commitment to the project and also to their teaching. In response to our question, the scholars explained that the inquiry questions focused them on an aspect of their practice that they felt ownership of and a commitment to understanding more fully; the shared inquiry practice brings a professional seriousness to the work. One scholar explained, “I think it’s very important to have a focus research question. That’s what makes this group unique and valuable. That’s what we come for – experiencing teaching on an intellectual plane.”5 This serious pursuit of a question brings the scholar face to face with the happenings of her classroom where what she does not know becomes a privileged aspect of her work rather than something she tries to ignore or cover up. “Teaching is so difficult,” one teacher explained, “and this group is so supportive.” She continued, It is okay to ask questions, be unsure and need help. All too often during the day in my struggles to teach I cannot show any weakness. This group nourishes my soul and encourages me when I need it.
The sharing of their questions becomes the basis for the community, which several of the teachers described the difference between the work of the scholars and other forms of professional development. Another explained: It is much more powerful to have a research question focus than to just get together for mutual support. The general mutual support happens naturally as we work through the questions and data. What people here have in common is that they want to look deeply into an aspect of teaching and they really want to know what matters. That’s the lens they want to work through.
The work requires the teachers to “go public” with their teaching. Not only do they share the data they collect, but also their questions, their uncertainties about the work, their fears that they are not meeting the needs of all of their students, and their frustrations about the “system.” They share their “small victories,” and greater triumphs as well. In a setting where their voices and concerns are seldom heard, the collaborative inquiry process keeps the scholars in touch with what matters to them. They explained how sharing their work with others deepens their understanding: There are many benefits to having an inquiry question to focus our time together. One is that it ensures that I will have the time to think with others about what is important to me. Additionally, the inquiry question takes us beyond just being supportive; it has the added bonus of bringing us to a deeper understanding about something that we want to know more about.
Searching for greater focus and deeper understanding in an otherwise cacophonous work life is grounding. Another scholar expresses a similar sentiment, …my question is very real and alive for me, and having it continue to resurface here – opportunity to turn it over and over, with different people, at different moments, with different texts to connect to it, is helpful in keeping it alive and deepening my relationship to it… it’s one of the things that helps me get regrounded as I’m constantly being buffeted by the winds of my work.
Inquiry and Shared Commitments It was interesting to note that while each person in the group is studying a question of her or his own, the shared commitment to inquiry connects the scholars as they push one another to reframe their questions, and then seek to answer those questions in systematic
All of the quotes in the paper are taken verbatim from the data. Whereas they represent one teacher’s voice, we chose them because they were representative of many other of the scholars’ thinking.
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and overlapping ways. Julia’s question, for example, “How to become a better teacher of African American male students in (her) biology class” dovetails with Alex’s who wants to understand why a particular group of African American students in her history class continuously fail to achieve. Alex’s question similarly overlaps with Molly’s, who explored how to address the low level writing skills of her 10th grade English students, and also Suzanne’s who is looking at the concept of “rigor” and what that means in her English class in the urban charter school where she works. As each scholar presents her work at the meetings, they continuously learn from one another. Even though their questions are unique and idiosyncratic to their particular situations, the deeper set of concerns about teaching all students toward excellent and equitable outcomes motivate the scholars’ inquiry questions. This shared commitment to equity combined with the shared methodology of framing research questions, collecting classroom data, and analyzing those data with colleagues brings the group together. The context of the research setting where the scholars meet monthly – or more often – moves the enterprise beyond the typical teacher discussion groups that teachers often experience in professional development settings. One teacher explained, If this were a discussion group it would be more like the problem solving/site specific issues we talk about with colleagues at work (all the time!). While it is important to problem solve and discuss our specific contexts, the research stance of the group allows us to frame our questions, which usually come from site specific issues, in a more global way and then others have access to it so they can see what other teachers think about the same topic.
Inquiry and Equity The “more global” concerns that connect the scholars to one another and to the inquiry methodology are the issues of equity and social justice – issues of top priority to these teachers who are teaching in settings challenged by matters of race and class. An inquiry stance requires teachers to look closely at themselves, their practice and also their students. The stance requires them to ask questions about what is happening in their classrooms and what is not, who is academically successful in the setting and who is not, what pedagogical strategies “work” in the setting and which ones work less well, and so forth. Because most of the teachers are different in background from most of their students, furthermore, the inquiry stance becomes even more important. Jessie drew the connection this way: I would say that inquiry is an essential part of my commitment to equity and social justice for several reasons. First, as an upper-middle class, white female, I feel I have to examine and re-examine my beliefs, assumptions, pedagogy, decisions, etc., to make sure that what I am doing is in the interests of the kids I serve. I teach a population whose culture, socio-economic status, race, etc, is way different from my own. If I assume that my instinctual way of doing things is good for everyone, I could be sorely mistaken. I owe it to those students to constantly reflect on the decisions I make to be as sure as I can that I’m meeting their needs.
As the teachers come to know their students better, which many do because the students and their experience of school are the foci of their investigations, they become smarter about how to meet their learning needs. Jessie, continues on to explain that …inquiry is essential because it helps me focus on core questions I have in the classroom about the choices I am making and whether or not they serve everyone. Inquiry forces me to look closely at all students in my class and whether or not they are doing as well as they could be. It forces me to ask myself hard questions and reflect on my practice, which is essential to equity. If I didn’t inquire and I never questioned anything I did, I don’t know how I could become a better teacher especially since I’m teaching students so different from me.
Jessie, who is a middle school language arts teacher, focused her inquiry on a group of low skilled readers. Her idea was if she could entice the students to read more, their reading skills would improve. She developed a strategy using audio CD’s to accompany their book
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reading, and tracked their work over the period of most of a school year. Additionally, she prioritized in-class reading and was surprised to learn that the practice “directly translated to how much the focal students – resistant, low-skilled readers – seemed to read at home.” She found her focal students more confident as the year progressed and every one of them had improved reading scores at the end of the school year. Jessie’s comments about inquiry and equity illustrate the shift that happens for many of the scholars as they begin to ask themselves why they are doing what they are doing in their practice. The question framing process causes the scholars to focus on their students and student outcomes rather than on themselves, although the focus on their students typically results in their looking back at themselves and their role in creating a context where all students can be successful in school. Molly explains that the inquiry process has helped her shift back from thinking about interesting activities her students could do “to fill up the 90-min blocks” of time in her English class to the core questions of what she wanted her students to learn and why. In her words, she needed to “step back and start thinking about WHY I teach what I teach – the reasoning behind my pedagogy.” She says later, “My question becomes, what do I want my students to learn?” This renewed focus on student learning was a critical shift for Molly. Carrie explained a shift in her thinking that corroborates Molly’s experience. She claims the inquiry process caused her to re-frame her approach and practice in a way that feels more honest. In a post-meeting reflection she wrote: “Inquiry forces me to look closely at my practice. When I look closely I’m trying to free myself from my pre-formed narrative of ‘what’s happening’ to honestly see what’s happening.” She explains that the process requires her to examine her “privilege as a middle-class white woman,” which then opens the door for “questioning the assumptions about the systems in which we operate.” This heightened – or reframed – awareness allows her to make sense of her data in a new way. As she says, she began to see what she is doing “from a different perspective.” Carrie’s study, which she designed to learn about the kinds of questions her students ask, provides an example. The goal of the teaching she investigated was designed to help her second-language learners learn to ask inferential questions. Her data indicated that the students were gaining that skill and asking more inferential questions over time. Probing the data further – a step supported by the scholars process – Carrie realized that while her students asked more inferential questions, they were not pursuing them; rather, they were simply asking them for what she perceived was her approval. As she explains, “ownership” – owning their work – “was not part of (her) pre-inquiry narrative.” She connects this insight to the larger goal of social justice because the ownership issue forced her to “address the mismatch between primary discourse/literacy and the secondary discourse we were working on in class.” Learning what she did from her study took Carrie back to her classroom where she engaged her students in “a discussion on how to ‘pursue questions.’” While her students participated with her wholeheartedly in this conversation, Carrie continued to “wonder if we were talking about the same thing. I was talking about their curiosity and I had the sense that they were talking about the assignment.” She explained that her study “certainly heightened my awareness that I didn’t want to simply teach compliance but I wanted to support curiosity provided a lens for future assignments.” Recognizing this potential pitfall to learning, Carrie began to adjust her teaching accordingly both in terms of the assignments she created and other work she designed for her class.
Collaboration Insights like the one Carrie describes here come about through the scholars’ processes of gathering classroom-based data and then examining those data with valued colleagues. The collaborative structure of the inquiry process, which asks the scholars to share their
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thinking as well as their data with one another, affords them the opportunity to develop the skills of professional speaking and listening. As one scholar explained, “Because of the questions my group members asked me, I had to explain my thinking/reasoning and rationale for my question, which will help me as I talk about my research to others.”6 The process pushes them toward clarity when explaining their work and toward rethinking their ideas upon hearing the different perspectives of their colleagues. As their inquiries progress, the scholars find themselves reframing their questions or concerns based both on the data they collect and/or the thoughtful reactions to those data as viewed by their research partners. With the help of her colleagues, Carrie was able to see her students’ work in a new – and more “honest” way, which had the consequence of changing her teaching. One site to look at this collaborative framing and reframing process is in the defining and redefining of the scholars’ research questions. Interestingly, as the work proceeds over the course of the year and they begin to examine their data, the scholars often find that rather than leading them toward a better understanding of the issue that motivated their project, the original framing of their questions leads them in a different direction Â�altogether. One scholar explained how this aspect of the learning journey works for her: Much of arriving at a question comes from talking through the muddled form they appear in during the initial stages. To be able to do that in the presence of others is SO valuable because they can tease out the complexities and confusing bits – together we chiseled away at our ideas until they took shape. So listening is one important aspect…but synthesis of what was heard is a crucial aspect too. In asking questions about my ideas [my partners] helped me to clarify and separate my thoughts.
By talking about both their question and the initial data they have collected to answer it, the scholars often realize that the question itself needs to be reframed. A conversation Luz had with her research partners provides a rich example. Luz teaches in an elementary school that serves primarily immigrant families. She began her scholars work wondering about how her school – and how she – would meet the needs of a particular child, Maria, who arrived in her classroom as a sixth grader having never attended school in her homeland, Guatemala. When she arrived in Luz’s class, Maria spoke only her indigenous language; she spoke no Spanish or English. Luz’s plan was to document her school’s response to the challenge of teaching Maria. She began her inquiry by collecting data from the teachers who had Maria as a student in their classes. She hoped to bring to life the realities of the work of teaching new immigrant children by examining this one case. Her ultimate goal was to begin the process of developing a more robust learner-centered approach for working with immigrant children. Early in the research process Luz met with her research group to help her reframe her question. Though she had already begun her inquiry work and had begun to collect data, she was uncertain about the wording of her question that was supposedly driving the research. She mentioned this concern to Holly, one of her research partners. The transcript7 of this conversation provides a window on how the framing and reframing work of the scholars unfolds. Holly and Sarah, Luz’s research partners, work to help her gain clarity on what she hoped her study would reveal. Holly: So, shall we help word your question? We have to help word your question. We have time. Luz: at the beginning I said … Sarah: You said something like “How does the school facilitate Maria’s learning?” Luz: That’s the question. And then the question’s going to get narrower. That facilitation will become more like …
The scholars are divided into research groups of three or four for the year. Part of the meeting time at the monthly sessions is spent with the research group sharing each other’s work. 7 This transcript is taken verbatim from the video of this small group discussion. 6
16â•… Inquiry for Equity: Supporting Teacher Research Sarah: But you also used the word accommodate. Luz: Yeah… Sarah: …and I’m wondering if you prefer that word. Luz: So read it back at me. Sarah: You said: how does our school facilitate Maria’s learning? But then later when you were talking with Holly … and you said… Luz: accommodate … Sarah: Is it really facilitate? Facilitating is kind of thinking that you’ve got it figured out, and … Luz: ahhh, accommodate to Maria’s learning. That’s probably better. Sarah: Or adjust maybe it’s about adjusting to her unusual perhaps learning needs?
The group continued on with a discussion on the word “accommodate,” which Holly thought has a negative connotation, or “adjust,” which Sarah thought was a better choice. Then Luz entered back in: Luz: You know, well, we can use this in a different way … flip it around and say, “In what ways does Maria’s learning illuminate the way…illuminate how we look at…illuminate how we teach.” See what I’m saying? What Maria did, really, and this is actually what we really want to know, what she did by coming in there, it made us ask “What are we doing?” It made everyone ask themselves, “Am I teaching in a comprehensible way?” So it made [us] question because we needed to know a deep understanding of the subject matter – you really had to know how to begin to teach number sense – to a 4 year old, then kindergartener, then first grader, then second, then third, then fourth – “ok in order for a kid to have a deep understanding of number sense in the 4th grade, what is it that I really need to teach?” Sarah: Right. Luz: So, by having Maria there, it made everyone ask. She opened, she flipped it around. So it’s not like we accommodate, we actually had to … she came and she made us look at learning … Sarah: … She’s making you look at the whole program up to the fourth grade… Holly: So say that. Luz: In what ways did Maria help? In what ways did Maria … Sarah: You used the word illuminate. I thought that was a good word. Luz: illuminate… She made us look; she made us ask what schools … I don’t know… Sarah: You said In what ways does Maria’s learning illuminate how our school … and then you didn’t finish that … I mean it seems like one thing you could say is like “in what ways does Maria’s learning illuminate how our school adjusts to the needs of the individual learner?” Luz: How a school adjusts … Sarah: But there’s something else… Holly: How our school adjusts to her learning needs? Luz: …to her experience as a learner. She has needs in our context; she doesn’t have needs where she came from… Sarah: You see but there’s another part too. Because it’s not just about you adjusting to the needs of an individual learner, you also are saying that her experience is helping you articulate. It’s also about how her experience illuminates how your school articulates the sequence of learning tasks – you know, like, I was talking about language acquisition, and when I think about that I think about, you concentrate on listening and developing those abilities first and then I start slowly adding in letters and numbers and then the word sounds and that’s something that I’ve figured out. But you’re talking about in general, like, in math, what do you have to develop first and then next. So it seems like you’re talking about – it seems like I’ve heard you talk about two things, one is about teachers adjusting to a student who doesn’t fit the so-called mold, and the other is just what is it that we want our students to know?
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This conversation continued on until Luz came up with the question that guided her research for the year: “What are the questions that students like Maria make teachers ask of their practice?” To investigate her question, Luz tracked the questions she and her colleagues at her middle school asked while teaching Maria. When possible, she also gathered data about how they went about answering them. Her data revealed explorations into subject matter, curriculum, language, development, and pedagogy. As Luz becomes smarter about what teachers – including herself – need to know to teach Maria well, Maria’s opportunities for academic success in her new school are greatly enhanced.
Speaking and Listening as Core Methods As can be seen from these examples, speaking and listening are core to this process of collaborative inquiry in teaching. Talking about her work with colleagues led Carrie to a clearer picture of her students’ understanding – or lack of understanding – of inferential questions. She accomplished this in part by sharing her data with her research partners who looked carefully with her at her students’ work. In a similar way, Luz struggled through the conversation with her colleagues who listened carefully to what she said and helped her frame a question that was aligned with her inquiry goal. About that conversation, Luz reflected later: It was very helpful for me to be able to verbalize what I intend to do. It forced me to think about ways to gather data and how to set up the conversations with the teachers I will be working with. Holly and Sarah were very helpful as they kept asking questions to keep me focused on what I want to look at.
Luz highlights the role of her partners in asking questions that helped her clarify her direction in part by helping her keep focused on her goal for the project. As we note in reading the transcript, they were dogged in helping her find the focus for her research. In this conversation between Luz and her partners, we saw an example of how talking with colleagues helps bring clarity to one’s professional thinking. While contemplating Luz’s use of the terms “facilitate” and “accommodate,” she and her research partners eventually clarified what it was Luz wanted to learn about in her inquiry. When she began her research in the fall, she used the word facilitate to frame her question: “What can the teachers in my school do to facilitate Maria’s learning?” Later she swapped the word “facilitate” with “accommodate,” a language change noted by her colleague, Holly. As we can see in that conversation, that turn of phrase – and her partners’ noting it – was an early step in advancing Luz’s thinking as she worked with them to create a more accurate framing of her question. The value of this listening and speaking process as happened in Luz’s case is corroborated by another of the scholars who reflects: Part of listening is also challenging us to go the next step while remembering – even if they’re (our research partners) just reminding themselves from notes – where we’ve come from.
Listening in this careful professional way is a learned skill that the scholars develop over the course of the time they spend in the project. For some, learning to listen carefully is the most difficult part of the scholars’ work. Part of the challenge comes from the structure of teaching itself, which is fast-paced and solution-oriented. Teachers are people of action. They have little time in their day to contemplate their work or listen as carefully as they wish they could to all of the people and things that occur in their presence. One teacher described the challenge she feels in accomplishing careful listening required of the scholars inquiry process:
16â•… Inquiry for Equity: Supporting Teacher Research When I listen I am trying not to jump to problem solving/advice, but to also ask questions to find out what the person thinks their next steps might be. I find it hard not to jump into advice mode, which I think can be annoying.
Careful listening is a critical component of the collaborative inquiry process. One scholar captured the sentiment of many about the nature and value of these question-and-answer conversations the scholars have about their work: “I appreciate when people ask blunt, hard, challenging questions. It’s like they’re creating a tension for me, which leads me to learn more.” When the scholars listen carefully to one another and ask questions that require a response about their practice and/or their research, there is a tension created that requires engagement for both the speaker and the listener and results in learning for both participants. For “blunt, hard questions” to be useful, the person to whom they are directed must listen thoughtfully and then speak about her practice in response. Asking those questions in the first place demonstrates the listening power of the asker. Paying attention to one’s learning and the intellectual journey of that learning connects the scholars with the intellectual challenges of the work they do every day. One scholar explained, “There’s an intellectual curiosity aspect to this kind of listening – a part of that is nourishing intellectually.” Engaging in this intellectual exchange calls upon the scholars to connect their practice with the larger issues and challenges that face not only them, but also the profession more broadly. “This group and our work also provides a place for me to be academic and scholarly about my practice,” one teacher explained. “This helps me to professionalize the work we do as teachers.” Speaking one’s truth – and being better able to do so given the analysis of one’s data – is part of what adds to the professionalism this teacher refers to. Listening is equally important. As one scholar explained: “It’s also just interesting to listen and intellectually rewarding to look in on and take part in another person’s thinking, which in this group is bound to be about something I care and wonder about too.” Perhaps it is the chance to “wonder” as well as the knowledge, skills, and dispositions to do so in a professional and collaborative manner that makes the process so compelling for teachers who engage in teacher inquiry of the type we are describing here.
Final Thoughts The goal of the Mills Scholars Project is to support teachers as they engage in systematic inquiry about an aspect of their practice that they want to know more about. We have learned that by studying one aspect of their teaching and being supported in their effort to do so, the scholars begin to take an inquiry approach to their work in a general way. One question leads to another. Data gathering that precedes decision-making becomes automatic. Conversations among colleagues become not necessarily commonplace, but definitely sought after. Once the teachers become accustomed to approaching their work in this way, their view of themselves as professionals begins to change as well. As one teacher described, “This group and our work also provides a place for me to be academic and scholarly about my practice. This helps to professionalize the work we do as teachers.” Part of feeling more professional is recognizing the agency one has to change practice and witness results. The scholars provide many examples of changing practice such as those of Carrie and Jessie described earlier. Both approached their work in different ways as a result of the research they conducted on their practice. Krista, a middle school math teacher, provides another example. She focused her inquiry on her low-achieving students and found that they had difficulty explaining their answers, which she found was a barrier to their learning. This finding caused her to focus on mathematical language and provide
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various new opportunities for the students to write and speak about their work. Shelley, a middle school science teacher with a very diverse population of students, looked at differentiated instruction. Together with other teachers at the same grade level in her department, she developed a unit in which students could practice the material, and demonstrate their comprehension in a variety of ways. Shelley tracked student outcomes as part of her study and shared those outcomes with her colleagues. Her project changed teaching practice in her own classroom and in the classrooms of other teachers in her school. These few examples are indicative of the potential power of teacher inquiry for changing practice in schools that need to change. But engaging in systematic inquiry and maintaining an inquiry stance are difficult for teachers. We have learned from the teacher scholars in this project just how important it is to their inquiry process to be supported as they do this work. Schools as we know them currently are not organized to provide the resources – mainly time and/or teaching colleagues with whom to work – to accomplish any systematic examination of practice by teachers. Furthermore, current national, state, and district mandates many of which lead to a central focus on standardized tests hamstring teachers when it comes to taking independent actions in their classrooms. But with support, we see how teachers can break free of those restraints in ways that enhance both their sense of themselves as professionals and the professional work they are then able to accomplish with the children they serve. “Although it is very difficult to find time for research,” one teacher explained, “I think all the teachers here find this community incredibly beneficial in deepening their practice.” Recognizing the value of the work in spite of the contextual limitations she went on to comment, “Unfortunately, schools don’t allow time for this or even give credit or utilize the information gained. This makes the time spent even more valuable as it is only for the purpose of the teacher’s knowledge base.” An e-mail from Shelley reminded us of how learning is invigorating even under the stressful circumstances that frame her life as a science teacher in a richly diverse urban middle school: I’ve got most of my data collected. I’ve transcribed most of my interviews. Now comes the fun and challenging part: synthesizing and writing! As stressed as I am on a daily basis, I still love to collect and analyze my data. I learn so much. … I’m amazed at how much I learn just planning the research and collecting the data. Then the next two huge chunks of learning come when I analyze the data and then when I write about it. It makes spring a bit hectic, but it’s worth it.
Part of what makes the teachers feel more professional when they engage in teacher inquiry is that they see themselves as learners who are not only developing knowledge that will guide their own classroom practice, but they are contributing to the knowledge base of the profession more broadly. Given the challenges teachers in urban schools face such as those in California where the per pupil expenditure is low, and consequently, the conditions under which these teachers teach are less than supportive of their professional work, teacher inquiry situates teachers in an empowered position to make change. “My research gives me a sense of ‘wide-awakeness’ in my practice…I feel like it has fast-tracked my learning and makes me feel more present,” one teacher explained. Her view is corroborated by her colleague who says, “(This work) makes me feel more active and more assertive in dealing with the challenges of teaching.” Teacher inquiry gives teachers a sense of agency. By asking questions of their practice and pursuing answers in a systematic way that looks directly at the happenings of their classrooms and schools, teachers become empowered to make decisions based on what they see are the “real” challenges of their work. An important role for teacher educators and other professional developers who are concerned with the issues of equity and justice is to create the conditions for teachers to engage in systematic inquiry about their practice. Teachers, thus prepared, and supported can act with intention as they work to build opportunities in their schools for all students to achieve academic success. It is with these teachers that we hold our greatest hope for building an educational system that truly does “leave no child behind.”
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Appendix Studying our Practice Given the field’s interest in creating professional learning communities, and our own interest in understanding our work more fully, we conducted this 2-year (06-07 and 07-08) research and documentation study of our facilitation practices and their outcomes for the Mills Teacher Scholars Project. As part of the study, we tracked the inquiry experiences of the scholars including the processes they employed and the products they produced. Our goal was to determine what the learning outcomes were for the different features of the project with a focus on which parts were more or less effective in supporting the reflective inquiry of the scholars. For this 2-year period, we videotaped our monthly meetings including a random selection of the small group discussions that occur regularly at each session. We also collected freewrite feedback from the teachers at every meeting – some of it open-ended and some of it focused on questions about inquiry and the work of teaching. Additionally, we kept track of the evolving questions of the scholars so that we could determine the direction of their studies and the hurdles they encountered along the way. Since the final product of the project each year, for each scholar, was a personal webpage that he or she contributed to regularly throughout the year, we had access to the scholars’ thinking as it evolved over time as well. This study of our facilitation practice mirrored the studies the teachers were conducting of their practice, which provided an opportunity for us to model some of the reflection processes we hoped the scholars would employ in their inquiry work. After each meeting, we analyzed the data collected at that session and then reported back to the scholars at the following meeting. We videotaped the monthly discussion on our “findings” and drew on these data as another source for our investigation. These taped discussions with the scholars also provided a validity check. The videotape and website data provided an opportunity to check for correspondence between what the scholars said they were doing and learning in their monthly feedback freewrites and what we were able to observe in their actual work. Overall, our process was iterative; as we followed our documentation design, questions arose that required collecting additional data. Our on-going analysis allowed us to check for inconsistencies as they arose in the data and to build our understanding of this complex and demanding work.
References Banks, J., Cochran-Smith, M., Moll, L., Richert, A., Zeichner, K., LePage, P., et€ al. (2005). Teaching diverse learners. In P. Teachers (Ed.), Preparing teachers for a changing world (pp. 232–274). San Francisco: Jossey Bass. Hollins, E. R., & Guzman, M. T. (2005). Research on preparing teachers for diverse populations. In M. Cochran-Smith and K. M. Zeichner (Eds.), Studying teacher education: The report of the AERA panel on research and teacher education (pp. 477–548). Mahwah, NJ: AERA/Lawrence Erlbaum Associates Little, J. W. (2003). Inside teacher community: Representations of classroom practice. Teachers College Record, 105(6), 913–945. Sarason, S. B. (1990). The predictable failure of educational reform: can we change course before it’s too late?. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. UNICEF. (2005). Child poverty in rich countries 2005: Report card no. 6. Florence, Italy: UNICEF Innocenti Research Centre. United States Census Bureau (2003). Poverty in the United States, 2002. http://www.census.gov/ prod/2003pubs/p60-222.pdf Accessed 15 April 2007.
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Chapter 17
“Doing as I Do”: The Role of Teacher Educator Self-Study in Educating for Reflective Inquiry Vicki Kubler LaBoskey and Mary Lynn Hamilton
Reflective Inquiry Most teacher education programs in the world today express at least some interest in the promotion of teacher reflection. In fact, the notion has become so deeply embedded in conceptualizations of teaching and learning to teach that many no longer see the need to make such an orientation explicit in the descriptions of their programs, nor do they consider it necessary to define the term. Though, on the one hand, this could be considered good news – this widespread acceptance of the aim – on the other hand, there are at least two significant problems inherent in these circumstances. First, this assumption of settlement does not provoke the ongoing research necessary to the adaptive development of the field. Second, the commonplace usage of the term tends to imply a consistency of meaning that in actuality masks differences so substantial as to make summative interpretation virtually impossible. Most necessary, therefore, is for the teacher educators and researchers who employ the term, reflective inquiry, to make explicit the definition they are using, which is what we intend to do. We will not go into great depth here, since that is the purpose of much of the rest of this handbook. But, we will provide enough information to allow the reader to determine where our work fits within the general research and practice program involved with the development of a knowledge base for informing and transforming education for reflective inquiry. When we refer to reflective inquiry, we are endeavoring to be consistent with most aspects of Dewey’s (1938) foundational definition: “Active, persistent, and careful consideration of any belief or supposed form of knowledge in the light of the grounds that support it and the further conclusions to which it tends” (p. 9). Like Rodgers (2002), we consider it important to reemphasize the following four aspects of this original characterization: 1. Reflection is a meaning-making process that moves a learner from one experience into the next with deeper understanding of its relationships with and connections to other experiences and ideas. It is the thread that makes continuity of learning possible and ensures the progress of the individual and, ultimately, society. It is a means to essentially moral ends.
V.K. LaBoskeyâ•›() Mills College, University of Kansas, Oakland, CA, USA e-mail:
[email protected]
N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_17, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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2. Reflection is a systematic, rigorous, disciplined way of thinking, with its roots in scientific inquiry. 3. Reflection needs to happen in community, in interaction with others. 4. Reflection requires attitudes that value the personal and intellectual growth of oneself and of others. (p. 845) If engaged in this manner, reflection can be the means by which teachers learn from their experiences so as to improve themselves and their profession. It is not a way, but the way for making meaning that is justified – empirically, theoretically, morally. But in order for this promise to be fulfilled, we, like many other teacher educators at present, consider this insistence on deeper learning and transformed beliefs to be a necessary but not sufficient effort. Also essential is greater specification of the ends toward which reflective teaching is directed, and, like Zeichner (1996), we have very particular ends in mind: “I will argue that efforts to prepare teachers who are reflective must both foster genuine teacher development and support the realization of greater equity and social justice in schooling and the larger society” (p. 201). This means that the criteria we apply in determining whether the solutions teachers develop for their dilemmas of practice are meaningful and effective – the aim of professional reflection, according to Schön (1983) – must include indicators of progress with regard to equity and social justice. What is more, the nature of the problems we choose to investigate and the ways in which they are framed are transformed by this orientation: “This involves framing certain educational issues as dilemmas rather than problems with clear solutions and deliberating thoughtfully about decisions that involve competing claims to justice” (Cochran-Smith 2004, p. 15). In essence, we are in the camp of teacher educators who stress the fact that reflection in teaching and teacher education is a means to other ends and not an end in itself. The two, however, are necessarily linked; learning to teach for social justice – the ultimate aim – requires taking what Cochran-Smith refers to as an inquiry stance toward practice, which is what we mean by reflective inquiry. Since this paper is about the role of self-study in educating for reflective inquiry, so defined, it is equally important for us to clarify what we mean by self-study, another educational term with variant definitions.
Teacher Educator Self-Study Self-study is the thoughtful, systematic, critical exploration of the complexity of one’s own learning and teaching practice (Dinkelman 2003; Samaras and Freese 2006). Autobiographical and bound in a particular history, culture, and political structure (Hamilton and Pinnegar 1998), teacher educators bring their personal practical knowledge (Elbaz 1983; Connelly and Clandinin 1985), their personal stories, and their voice (Goodson and Walker 1991) to self-study. In self-study, the self has a part in this work, but the focus is on the spaces where self, practice, and context (Bullough and Pinnegar 2004) intertwine, serving to diminish the gap between theory and practice (Bullough 1997; Hamilton 2004). As noted by Pinnegar (1998), self-study researchers Observe their settings carefully, systematically collect data to represent and capture the observations they are making, study research from other methodologies for insights into their current practice, thoughtfully consider their own backgrounds and contributions to this setting, and reflect on any combination of these avenues in their attempts to understand. They utilize their study to represent for others what they have come to understand in their own practice and ultimately to perfect and improve the quality of their own practice setting. (p. 33)
Thus, she concludes, “Self-study is not a collection of particular methods but instead a methodology for studying professional practice settings” (p. 33).
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According to LaBoskey (2004a), methodology consists of at least five essential elements: it is self-initiated and focused; it is improvement-aimed; it is interactive; it includes multiple, mainly qualitative methods; and it defines validity as a process based on trustworthiness (pp. 842–853). In a self-study endeavor, teacher educators identify a dilemma or interest and move it from reflection on practice to research to be shared with other practitioners. To do this, they gather documentation from multiple sources to provide clear evidence as they move along in their inquiry. Holding a focus on self, others are involved in the process in multiple ways, including, for example, question raising, corroboration of findings, and critical analysis. Honest engagement with students is expected. Each step of the way those involved in self-study act with integrity and trustworthiness, knowing they will share their work publicly to probe professional learning and the development of the professional knowledge base. And to be consistent with this notion of validation as trustworthiness (Mishler 1990), this public sharing of self-study research must include: • Explicit documentation of experiences as they occur • Connection to the literature from the broader research base in teacher education to set the context • Details about the aspects of the relevant practices/issues • Written analysis of data collected for the study, and • Exchange of ideas in public forums with colleagues and interested others beyond the study group. (Hamilton 2009, p. 291) Improving practice, enhancing learning, and contributing to knowledge about teaching (Hamilton et€al., 2008) are three critical elements of self-study, and doing this requires a balance “between the way in which private experience can provide insight and solution for public issues and troubles and the way in which public theory can provide insight and solution for private trial” (Bullough and Pinnegar 2001, p.15). These, then, are our overarching definitions of reflective inquiry and of teacher educator self-study. To better articulate our perception of the role teacher educator self-study can play in educating for reflective inquiry we need to more specifically analyze the many ways we think the two bodies of literature map well onto each other.
Consistencies in the Two Literatures We analyzed these bodies of literature in two ways, both of which supported the conclusion of substantial consistency. First, we extracted some of the primary theoretical and philosophical foundations of both, beginning with the field of self-study and then comparing those to the foundations supporting the aim of educating for reflective inquiry. Second, we categorized some of the key research studies of each domain, beginning with reflective inquiry this time, which resulted in three interrelated continua useful for identifying, differentiating, and evaluating models of reflection in teacher education, which could then be applied to samples of self-study investigation.
Foundational Similarities The theoretical and philosophical foundations on which the empirical and practical efforts in both domains are based have many similarities. Both, for instance, draw heavily on the long-standing conceptualizations of Dewey, Vygotsky, and Schön. Indeed the commonalities
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are substantive and comprehensive enough to make the interconnections apparent, as is evident in these five particularly pervasive perspectives regarding the theoretical/philosophical aspects of the educational endeavor: theories of knowledge, theories of learning, the nature of teaching, the nature of research, and the moral nature of education. Theories of Knowledge Both camps define the knowledge of teaching as contextual, distributed, and uncertain. Using Bruner’s (1985) typology, they believe that the narrative, as opposed to the paradigmatic, better characterizes the knowledge of teaching, especially because narrative knowledge “is concerned with the explication of human intentions in the context of action” (p. 100). Both question the distinction between producing/generating knowledge and becoming knowledgeable or coming to know and thus also, the distinction between research and practice. In the words of Korthagen (1995), “knowledge about teaching develops in the interaction between the individual’s hopes, ideals, and desires, on the one hand, and the feedback, or ‘backtalk,’ from the other participants in the concrete educational setting on the other” and that “knowledge created in this way is uniquely relevant for practice” (p. 102). Teacher knowledge, therefore, develops “through a better understanding of personal experience” (Loughran and Northfield 1998, p. 7). Both fields assume that the way to achieve this better understanding of our teaching experience is through critical reflection (Guilfoyle 1995; Hamilton 1995). This epistemological orientation has clear connections to and implications for the theories of learning that are embraced. Theories of Learning A primary theory of learning accepted by both domains is the Vygotskian notion of the social construction of knowledge. Learning is iterative, idiosyncratic, and facilitated by interactions with multiple, personal and textual perspectives. It is deeply affected by personal history and identity, multiple intelligences, and cultural, social, and political contexts. Both tend to agree with Cochran-Smith and Lytle (1999) who advocate for a conception of teacher learning or coming to know they refer to as inquiry as stance: “The idea of inquiry as stance is intended to emphasize that teacher learning for the next century needs to be understood not primarily as individual professional accomplishment but as a long-term collective project with a democratic agenda” (p. 296). The goal of these learning communities is “building, interrogating, elaborating, and critiquing conceptual frameworks that link action and problem-posing to the immediate context as well as to larger social, cultural, and political issues” (Cochran-Smith 2004, p. 15). This conceptualization of teacher learning as an on-going reflective inquiry process is consistent with the way in which the nature of teaching is perceived in both spheres. The Nature of Teaching Both consider teaching to be an intellectual endeavor that is highly dependent on context. It is an uncertain craft where final answers and particular formulas or recipes are impossible; thus, there is a process over product orientation to improvement. This conceptualization of teaching “implies that we can never be sure; that this intensely interpersonal, highly complex, always changing, moral and political act requires continual monitoring and adaptation” (LaBoskey 2004a, p. 820). That continual monitoring and adaptation are determinants of the purpose and nature of teacher and teacher educator research.
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The Nature of Educational Research In both fields, the aim of educational research is to seek understanding rather than immutable laws. Since that understanding is necessarily impacted and constrained by the context and the individual identities of those in that context, the research appropriate for generating such knowledge needs to be on-going and continually responsive to new input. The purpose of self-conducted inquiry into the teaching/learning process is, therefore, to “provoke, challenge, and illuminate rather than confirm & settle” (Bullough and Pinnegar 2001, p. 20). And because the results of such research are immediately put into practice with the intent of enhancing the educative potential of teacher/learner interactions, those engaged in these forms of educational inquiry recognize and attend to its moral nature. The Moral Nature of Education Both literature domains frame teaching as a “social-pedagogical” task and not just a pedagogical task (e.g., Fenstermacher 1994; Korthagen and Verkuyl 2002). That is, they agree with Korthagen and Verkuyl (2002) that, “one of the central aims of education is… to ensure that students of every race, social class, sex and age are aware of, and give shape to, their own inner potential, strength, talents, value, and dignity, whereby others, including teachers, can provide support and guidance” (p. 44). So good teaching includes, as Shulman (Tell 2001) suggests, “nurturing.” Thus, teacher education needs to be as concerned with the moral, ethical, spiritual, emotional, and political development of student teachers as with the cognitive and strategic. The work of teaching, and therefore, teacher education, is moral and value-laden (e.g., Cole and Knowles 1998; Hamilton 2002; Hamilton and Pinnegar 1998; Whitehead 1989). The consistency revealed by these five substantive areas of overlap in the theoretical and philosophical underpinnings of self-study of teacher education and teacher education for reflective inquiry suggests that the two fields are foundationally compatible. They help confirm our perspective that the two can and do operate in support of one another. Teacher educators who engage in self-study may, therefore, be particularly well situated to facilitate the development of reflective inquiry in their student teachers. They choose to employ and investigate pedagogical strategies that utilize and develop reflective inquiry, e.g., dialogic communities, portfolios, action research, personal histories, reflective journals. But in order to further test and elaborate upon this argument, we needed to look also at how these philosophies are applied in practice, as revealed by the research literature in the two domains. We began with the research into reflective teacher education programs.
Research on Teacher Education for Reflective Inquiry We found that the literature on teacher education programs aimed at the development of reflective inquiry could be categorized according to the foci suggested by Donahue (2005): “In defining reflection, theorists have wrestled with questions of why teachers reflect, what they reflect about, and how they reflect” (p. 39). Studies tended to focus more on one of these three aspects than on the others. More importantly, they tended to vary in identifiable and comparable ways with regard to the orientations taken toward each of those components. This variation might best be characterized by three nondevelopmental continua – purpose, content, and means.
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Purpose This continuum is concerned with the aim of the reflective process – why teacher educators want student teachers to engage in reflective inquiry and what should be gained from that endeavor (LaBoskey in press). At the left end of the continuum (see Fig.€17.1) the focus is on the development of the life-long learning and problem-solving capacities of individual candidates. At the right end, the focus is on the transformation of social institutions and systems in ways more consistent with democracy, equity, and social justice. Again, this is not a developmental continuum; it is not meant to imply that attention to student teacher learning is a lower level or less important area of concern than attention to social transformation. Nor should it suggest that the intention is to move a student teacher or a teacher education program through a series of stages that culminate in an exclusive focus on changing society. What the continuum should convey is a viable range of options. Any purpose not inclusive of at least one end of the continuum would not be consistent with our definitions of reflective inquiry. For instance, a technical orientation intended to help novices enact pre-existing curricular packages would not be considered reflective teacher education because it is outside the range; it could not be placed anywhere on this continuum. What the continuum also embodies are the multiple possibilities for combining both aims. Anywhere on the continuum, aside from the extreme ends, represents some combination of the two. The middle point, therefore, signifies a full and balanced integration of both aims.
Content This continuum is concerned with the content of reflection – what the student teachers are reflecting on and about. It constitutes the target and the source for the issues and dilemmas addressed by reflective inquiry. At the left end of the continuum, attention is directed toward the student teacher self – her or his beliefs, assumptions, attitudes, knowledge, and actions. At the right end, novices interrogate the inequities embedded in educational institutions and systems and the societal structures, norms, and discourses they represent and validate.
Purpose |----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------| Transformation of social institutions and systems Life-long learning Problem-solving capacities of individuals
Content |----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------| Attention directed toward teacher self Novices interrogate the inequities embedded in educational institutions
Means |----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------| Fostering the capacities and propensities necessary Facilitating and encouraging the interrogation and for political activism improvement of personal assumptions, knowledge and pedagogy
Fig.€17.1â•… Continua of Reflective Inquiry–A Heuristicâ•›
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Means This continuum is concerned with how student teachers engage in reflective inquiry, as well as how they learn to do so. At the left end of this continuum are means for facilitating and encouraging the interrogation and improvement of personal assumptions, knowledge, and pedagogy. At the right end are means for fostering the capacities and propensities necessary for political activism. The vast majority of the current research into reflective teacher education seems to be concerned with this continuum – figuring out how to teach and support student teacher reflective inquiry, as well as ensure that candidates incorporate it into their practice for the long-term. These continua of purpose, content, and means are interrelated, meaning that where a model of teacher reflection places on one continuum tends to suggest where it would or should be placed on the others. Taken together, therefore, they can serve as a framework for identifying and differentiating programmatic efforts to develop reflective inquiry, and ultimately, for exploring interrelationships with self-study research.
“Doing as I Do” In general, teacher educators recognize their intentions to bring their students to a greater understanding of the professional knowledge as necessary for those students to become the best teachers possible and view reflection as the means for developing that professional knowledge. Those teacher educators who engage in self-study find that through the study of their own teaching practices they unlock gateways to that knowledge for themselves and in doing so they support the reflective inquiry of their students. When teacher educators engage in the self-study of teacher education practices, they do so to inform themselves, their students, and their extended teacher education community about practice and professional understandings. In a look at the literature on the self-study of teacher education practices, one desire of these teacher educators becomes most apparent – to model – good thinking, good practice and good relations – for their students. To express and live that desire, they make themselves vulnerable and encourage themselves to engage in careful reflection about their practice. In this literature, certain themes emerge that seem critical to this work, including modeling for students, bringing the self to teaching, interacting with others, transforming reflective teacher education via teacher educator self-transformation, asking meta-questions, and theorizing about knowledge. To better probe the ways that the works of self-study contribute to the development of reflective inquiry in student teachers, this section offers examples from each of the themes. Moreover, as we present examples from self-study, we will make connections, where possible, to the continua of reflection in teacher education.
Modeling for Students Although many teacher educators may recognize their positions as role models for their students, teacher educators engaged in self-study consciously situate in that position and draw attention to that position throughout their courses. As LaBoskey (2004a) suggests, the literature on self-study,
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V.K. LaBoskey and M.L. Hamilton Is replete with instances where there is explicit acknowledgement that, “one of the purposes in this self-study is to model professional learning in ways that support candidates just beginning to understand the nature and challenges of professional action and learning from experience” (Russell 2002, p. 84; see also Hutchinson 1998; Kitchen 2002; Lomax et€al. 1998; Peterman and Marquez-Zenkov 2002; Schulte 2002; Schwabsky 2002). But, the modeling of which we speak is somewhat different than that intended by more traditional pedagogies. This is due in part to the nature of what we are instantiating, and in part to the rationale for it. We are not simply presenting a “model” of practice for our students to imitate; we are engaging in the process to improve ourselves, as much as we are to improve them. (p. 840)
For example, Anderson-Patton and Bass (2000) explore the ways they model their research stance for their students. These self-study researchers believe that they can provide no better way to illustrate a research stance than to model the way they do so in their own work. Kosnik et€ al. (2002) more directly state that, “we strive for ethical and moral integrity in our research to practice efforts as we reflect and study our own teaching to better serve as a role model to our students” (p. 48). Researchers engaged in self-study examine their practice to, consciously and with forethought, undertake the best teaching and pedagogy possible. Dinkelman (2003) affirms this when he suggests that if, “indeed students learn from the methods and manner of their teachers, and reflective thinking is an aim of instruction, then teachers should consider the ways in which their own work models reflective thinking. Simply put, students learn reflection from watching their teachers reflect” (p. 11). He pushes harder into the possible contributions of self-study to reflective inquiry when he asserts that teacher educators, Model, or fail to model, their reflection in various ways in their daily activity (Valli 1989). For example, students see reflection when a teacher educator pauses in class to consider a remark or through the care and effort a supervisor puts into an observation visit post conference. These instances of reflection are important, but self-study exemplifies a different sort of reflection. As a deliberate and more formalized form of reflection, self-study sends a message that reflective teaching is more than a hollow slogan and that teacher educators are disposed to practice what they preach. It establishes that they genuinely believe in the method they recommend and the philosophy they advocate. (p. 11)
An example of modeling for preservice students from a self-study methodology comes in the work of Freese (2006) where she worked with a small group of students. She modeled her reflective skills and expected her students to follow along as they all explored their learning-to-teach processes. To do that, they collected a broad selection of their own writings and work over a two-year period. Together Freese and her students examined and adapted this work into text for use by her future preservice students. While the students used Freese’s modeling to inform their thinking about practice, Freese used the work of her students to nudge forward her thinking about her own teaching. Freese and her students explored classroom management, the uncertainties of teaching, and preparation for teaching, as well as the shift from self-focus to student-focus that her students experienced in their classrooms. As Freese wrote about her students, she also found that she gained insight about herself and the ways that she organized and presented theories and concepts to her students. She found the students’ work to be “invaluable sources of information about learning to teach, because these preservice teachers articulated and made public the personal knowledge, background and philosophies that influences their beliefs about teaching and their practice” (p. 77). As she did this, she modeled the ways that reflective inquiry informs her work as a teacher educator engaged in self-study and the ways her students might use self-study in their own classrooms. When working with students, modeling the reflective process can be critical (Korthagen et€al. 2001). Teacher educators, like Freese, model reflective practice by engaging in their own reflections alongside the students. While engagement in extended self-study may not be possible early in their development as a teacher, the preliminary work in university
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classes can set the foundation for their work when they reach their own classrooms. Freese saw her self-study work as a move along this process. Other examples of teacher educators using self-study to model for their students include the work of Oda (1998) who wanted to model what she learned from her self-study, “to assist my students in sifting through issues of diversity they will confront when they begin their teaching” (p. 113). At the end of her study, Oda found that modeling her perspectives helped her students open up, at least in small ways, to diversity. In contrast, Kaplan (2006) used self-study to pinpoint where he did not model teaching practice in the ways that he hoped, as well as to draw students’ attention to ways he could improve that practice. The commitment to present themselves as organic instructors who grow and learn throughout their careers, this modeling for students, is a conscious positioning to demonstrate for them how to engage in reflective inquiry.
Bringing the Self to Teaching Key in the work of the self-study of teacher education practices is the foregrounding of self in this research. In the development of professional knowledge, teacher educators recognize the power of self-awareness to influence the change process. They take seriously the assumption that to align your beliefs and actions you must consciously study and reflect upon your practice. In this work, self-study researchers begin with attention to self, to their individual teaching, and to the development of individual practice. Self-study researchers situate themselves in their work. In turn, this commitment to self-study supports the universally agreed upon and necessary goal of reflective teacher education to foster self-growth in individual student teachers. Tidwell (2002) offers one example of a researcher bringing her self to teaching. During one semester, Tidwell examined her experience and her teaching with students in her own classroom. She identified that her “interest in better understanding this connection between my teaching beliefs and my teaching practice served as the catalyst for [this] self-study” (p. 31). Here, the struggle of aligning belief with action, a reoccurring theme in self-study, emerged. In her investigation, Tidwell attended to her relationships with particular students. The interactions between Tidwell and her students raised questions about selfidentified beliefs regarding teaching and choice. Tidwell’s study offers readers insight into practice when she exposes her conceptions of her teacher self in her analysis of her own teacher behavior as she interacted with her students. As she does this, she offers the readers possible reflective points on practice as she pushes on the weaknesses she sees in her beliefs and her pedagogy. As we read her work, we, as teacher educators, must consider our own impact on our own students. Tidwell lays bare the balancing act of teacher educators as they attempt to value individual students and meet perceived goals as teachers. As teacher educators, we must see beyond our own students into the public school classrooms to consider the effects of our actions, our discrepant beliefs and actions. In a straightforward and relentless way, Tidwell uses self-study to examine her choices as a teacher educator for ways to improve her practice. As we examine her work, the ways she engaged in her reflective process to solve problems, situate her self as a teacher, and interrogate her own practice to improve her pedagogy helps other teacher educators consider their positions in their own classrooms. By locating the self in the act of teaching, self-study researchers demonstrate for their students possible ways to engage in reflective inquiry within their own classrooms. How does a teacher educator situate her or himself in front of a classroom? When employing self-study methodology, there are a variety of ways for this to happen.
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As described above, Tidwell sought to define the balance she did not find in her classroom. Berry (2007) studies her own practice as a teacher educator as she prepares biology teachers. While engaged in her teaching, she uses her study of her own practice to inform the practice of her students. As she studies her practice, she identifies moments in learning about teaching where tensions develop to push thinking and learning to a new level. She finds that affecting practice begins at a personal level and sees reflective inquiry as a tool. Placier (1995) details her experiences of becoming a teacher educator. In her study, she questions if the work of others can help her understand her own. She explores comments from students that begin with, “I have to have an A.” While she listens, she does not really understand their notions that seem to come from the transmission models of teaching. Their ideas confront her ideas that could be best situated in a transformative model of teaching. She describes her fiascos of experience as she works through her teaching. In the end, she asks her students to grade themselves and provide reasons for the grade. As she struggles to understand the differences between her students and herself, she writes, “In retrospect and as a researcher, I am embarrassed by the ad hoc, individualistic qualities of my development as a college teacher” (p. 60) and wish that they could “resolve the grading dilemma together” (p. 61). For Placier, her self-study offered her a way to probe the intimacies of failure. As we read her study, we understand her commitment to students and can situate ourselves in that experience. Others, like Craig (2006), situate themselves within the throes of teacher education reform or, like Kitchen (2002), situate themselves so as to study their relationships with their students. For these teacher educators engaged in self-study research, taking a careful look at themselves will help them better model teaching practice for their students.
Interacting with Other Texts and Colleagues Interactivity is an integral part of the work of self-study. Most often, this interactivity suggests critical friends who engage in dialogue about choices and actions to press the self-study researchers as they examine their practice. These researchers involve colleagues into their work to ask questions and help the researchers probe their ideas (Kelchtermans and Hamilton 2004). When self-study researchers have no colleagues with whom they might engage, they bring representative others from texts they have read or experiences they have had. For example, Hamilton (2005) examines her teaching practice in a graduate research class with attention to her desire to help her students better understand certain research concepts. To support the examination of her work, she selects the works of American artist Winslow Homer as a reflective tool. In her self-study, she attempts to make evident her own thinking as she moves from classroom to art gallery and back again. As Hamilton progressed in her study, she used Homer’s work and his artist context to nudge her thinking about practice. More commonly, self-study researchers engage with colleagues on-site or at-a-distance who support their examination of practice. These researchers utilize a hermeneutical frame where they read, critique, and reflect on their practice; their readings and the critical friends both support and help reframe ideas within the study (Kelchtermans and Hamilton 2004). For Bodone et€ al. (2004), “self-study research transcends the individual through collaborative, questioning, dialogic, and action-oriented processes that have been described as ‘essential’ to the dissemination of authentic educational knowledge” (p. 745). Loughran and Northfield (1998, p. 16) call this the “shared adventure” of exploring knowledge and practice. This collaboration encourages a synergy that is “…rooted in a shared context [and] characterized by common experiences stemming from participation in a mutually
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constructed set of teacher education activities” (Dinkelman 2003, p. 14). In fact, Barnes (1998) and LaBoskey (2004a) recognize interactivity as critical to the work of self-study where the, “value of the involvement of others becomes evident in practice and is well demonstrated when interpretations, conclusions or situations resonate with others” (Loughran and Northfield 1998, p. 12). The Arizona Group (Guilfoyle, Hamilton, Pinnegar and Placier 1994, 1995, 1996, 1997, 1998) offers an example of interactivity that describes the development of their professional knowledge and identities. Using journals, email communiqués, and other qualitative strategies, they discussed their experiences in their teacher education classrooms. In “Obligations to Unseen Children” (1997), the Arizona Group address their difficulties as they attempt to align their beliefs with their actions in their teaching practice. Their writing focuses on the contradictions they experience between their desires to engage students in dialogue and the resistance they experience from their students. As they explore their struggles with their experiences, the exchanges they share illustrate their synergy and their ability to support each other’s thinking. When teacher educators engage in self-study, whether individually or collectively, they interact with text and with colleagues as they examine their work. As they engage in this work, they demonstrate through their actions the ways that reflective inquiry can contribute to the practice of their student teachers.
Transforming Reflective Teacher Education Via Teacher Educator Self- Transformation Teacher educators engaged in self-study look for ways to transform teacher education. Among these researchers, there are widely held beliefs regarding the relationships between expectations for students and self-expectations. These researchers recognize the potential contradictions between expecting students to broaden their thinking without doing the same. For these researchers, it follows that they “cannot help [students] to detect and interrogate their biases if [they] do not detect and interrogate [their own]” (LaBoskey 2004a, p. 840). Self-study researchers, feeling some moral commitment to the transformation of students’ ideas about teaching and thinking, focus on developing their own voices within their own settings to explore the “power to critically examine a situation and confront it, rather than be dominated by it” (Hamilton 1995, p. 39). In turn, they hope to support their students in this process. As an example, Korthagen and Verkuyl (2002) engaged in a self-study that asked whether they, as teacher educators, could influence student awareness of their profession, help them develop their professional identities, and affect their commitment to the profession. Early in their work, they realized that they, “could not undertake this enterprise without questioning our own professional identities and missions as teacher educators” (p. 43). Many self-studies focus on the transformation of teacher education that fits toward the left side of the reflection continua (e.g., Austin et€al. 1999; Johnston 2000). These studies situate the student teachers or the teacher educator in the foreground where each group echoes the ideas of the Other during reflective inquiry and practice. Fewer self-studies of this sort can be found on the right side of the reflection continua. The scholars whose work might be situated here attempt to place themselves in the broader context of society that includes race, class, and gender dimensions. Placier et€al. (2005, 2006), a group of colleagues at the University of Missouri, offer a strong example of this work. These teacher educators came together to design and enact a particular pedagogical method, Theatre of the Oppressed, in their classrooms out of their desire to push their students, their program, and themselves forward in their thinking
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and understanding of diversity and issues of social justice. Initially, over a semester these teacher educators (five faculty researchers and six graduate assistants) used student journals, observation, and their own reflections and email memos to chronicle and interrogate their own teaching processes and the thinking of the students involved in those teaching processes. As they designed, presented, discussed, and considered their practices, these teacher educators hoped to identify more meaningful ways to address issues of diversity and social justice in their classrooms. Their experiences could be described as neither even nor easy. Moments of possible impediment and uncertainty emerged. They persisted, resulting in a systematic study of their experience that documents the development of their thinking about their teaching and the responses of their students to that teaching. They have continued to develop this work over time. The students in these classes saw their initial resistance dissolve slowly into some understanding of diversity. For them, the experiential nature of the method, while not comfortable, helped them as they probed ideas. Transformation for both teacher educators and students, however, proved elusive. In this study, the teacher educators found reminders to build trust and attend to potential differences between the beliefs of the students and themselves as well as the beliefs among students. They also found that simply “‘talking about’ the power of TO [Theatre of the Oppressed] would have been insufficient, student teachers need to experience it first hand” (p. 145). They concluded that with “the insights gained through this research we will be able to better structure courses to build on and move beyond the traditional transmission approach” to knowledge building (p. 145). Furthermore, the teacher educators found that examining their own beliefs as their students did the same, enlightened both groups and contributed to the learning in the classroom. The modeling of reflective inquiry for their students occurred in their public interactions with their colleagues and students in the classroom and the ways each group pulsed the other to think beyond traditional frameworks.
Asking Meta-Questions Another way that teacher educators engage in self-study that contributes to reflective inquiry comes in the questioning of ways to best prepare teachers and facilitate ongoing thoughtfulness about teaching practice. These teacher educators take practical concerns about teaching and the education of teachers and attempt to develop better ways to address the learningto-teach process, as well as explore stronger ways to expose and examine issues related to professional knowledge. Hamilton (1995) asserts that as teacher educators, “We can examine ourselves in our own acts of teaching. If we can understand how we ourselves teach, we can inform ourselves about how others might teach (p. 39).” In turn, teacher educators engaged in self-study can look more broadly at the learning-to-teach process to ask those larger, meta-questions about teaching and professional knowledge. Employing aspects of self-study methodology directly links these ideas to reflective inquiry. In an example of this work, Trumball (2006) looks to explore the ways her students reflect and how to add depth to those reflections. To do this, she uses her own reflections about her own teaching to model reflective practice. Her students write their own reflections in class, but as a final examination question, she asks her students to compare her experiences in class with their experiences in class. Her journal contains candid details about her perspectives on her own teaching. Her students’ responses address a range of perspectives from identity development to course structure. Trumball wanted to explore the nature of her students’ reflections and the ways they engaged in thinking about teaching. Along the way, she also probed the nature of her own reflections as well as the nature of reflective inquiry itself.
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Trumball hoped to help her students develop their problem-solving skills through reflection described by the left side of the Purpose continua; she looked at the content of the student reflections as well as her own reflections that focus on the teacher-self on the left side of the Content continua; and she expected the students (and herself) to question and strengthen notions about teaching building on personal assumptions, knowledge and ideas about practice, found on the left side of the Means continua. Trumball sought ways to improve the reflective inquiry of her students throughout this study. Other studies that focus on asking larger questions about teaching and professional knowledge include Brandenburg’s (2008) work where she asks, “what is the big idea?” to explore with her students the multiple understandings in the teaching of mathematics. Brandenburg positions teacher educators as knowledge producers that challenge traditional notions about knowledge and situates “the foundation for this process…on the having of experience” (p. 13). To do this, she suggests that self-study emerges from questions about practice and self-study researchers aspire to closing the “space as it were between accepting challenges and working toward new knowledge and deeper understanding of practice” (p. ix). Brandenburg looks at the impact of reflective inquiry on the practice of her students while studying her own practice. For her, reflection “can be understood as one means of assisting in the construction of knowledge from experience. Experience alone is not the best teacher and often without guided analysis experience can reinforce traditional stereotypes or preconceived notions” (p. 179).
Theorizing About the Knowledge Constructed From Reflective Inquiry Making their research public is important to teacher educators involved in the self-study of teacher education practices. These teacher educators attempt to theorize about their understanding of practice in order to contribute to our understanding of professional knowledge. This takes time. LaBoskey (2004a) suggests that self-study “is not the same … as reflective practice, though it includes and embraces it. It is sequences of reflective instances that are responded to with action and informed by a variety of viewpoints. The critical reflection that is employed must be publicly articulated” (p. 825). Because teaching is particular, teacher educators involved in self-study employ exemplar-based validation. In self-study research, the “authority of experience [serves] as a warrant for knowing” (Pinnegar 1998, p. 32). This means that those reading the text develop their own sense of strength, of reliability, and of the trustworthiness of the basis for the ideas and experiences presented. An example of theorizing about the knowledge constructed from reflective inquiry would be the work of a group of researchers at the University of British Columbia who created an alternative teacher education program based on the concepts of inquiry and community (Clarke et€al. 2005). With a firm commitment to preparing the best teachers possible, they found that the development of community and a strong practice of inquiry would best serve their students (Farr-Darling et€al., 2007). Their view of teaching “consists of a complex set of actions structured around sets of relationship and communicative practices that enable others to learn different forms of knowledge and ways of knowing” (p. 188). In their work, they claim to create a “community of memory” where those involved (teachers, teacher educators, and students) can look back-and-forth in time as they develop their professional knowledge. For these researchers, their self-study work is “a recursive process of doing, thinking about what was done, making adjustments, and doing again” (Clarke et€al., 2005, p. 175) where they “strive to provide convincing and rigorous evidence” (p. 175) for public scrutiny.
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There can be little expectation by self-study researchers that their students publicly present their work given their level of professional development. As LaBoskey (2004a) suggests, We engage our student teachers in “self-study-like” activities. I say self-study-like because I do not consider strategies to facilitate the learning of our students to be the same as self-study. Though some in the field would disagree with me, I believe that, in most instances, student teacher assignments are lacking in certain requirements of self-study, most particularly in the metacognition involved in theorizing the learning experience and in the formalization of the work. There are many ways, however, in which the activities are very similar. (p. 827)
Yet teacher educators involved in self-study can demonstrate ways that work can be presented publicly when these students have their own classrooms. For 8 years Schuck (2006) studied her teaching to consider how she developed her ideas over time. She suggests that self-study work must always begin with big questions that concern the practice of teacher educators. For her, “Reflection and critical analysis of our practices may help us see that the answers are not as expected” (p. 213). Schuck found over the course of her study that, “the iterative and evolving nature of…self-study provides a powerful way of exploring the dynamic and complex nature of teaching and learning. It acknowledges that new challenges will always arise in…teaching and that we need ways of resolving these” (p. 219). While she knew that the study of her own practice might not be a top priority for her students, she knew that the knowledge that emerged from her study might help those students understand their learning-to-teach process. Importantly, in the theorizing process reflective inquiry contributes strongly to the work of self-study. Here the self-study researchers must scrutinize their ideas and their assertions to assure the thoughtfulness and trustworthiness most associated with the methodology of self-study.
Mutual Benefits Our analysis of the theoretical and philosophical foundations of self-study of teacher education and of teacher education for reflective inquiry revealed substantial consistency that should make the interaction between the two both natural and productive. Most fundamentally, both conceptualize the means by which we develop a better understanding of teaching practice, which can then contribute to the knowledge base of teaching, as critical reflection. Furthermore, the comparable emphases and outcomes in the two bodies of research help clarify the specific role teacher educator self-study might play in the development of reflective inquiry. Very specifically, the following characteristics, concerns, and engagements of self-study should be particularly beneficial to the development of the skills and dispositions of reflective inquiry: bringing the self to teaching, interacting with others, modeling for students, transforming reflective teacher education via teacher educator self-transformation, asking meta-questions, and theorizing about knowledge. But this potential can only be fully realized by more explicit attention, in both research and practice fields, to this relationship. Another way that both domains might be strengthened is revealed by the continua. At this point in time, the research in both arenas is situated primarily at the left ends of those continua. Though there are significant exceptions in both camps, the call for a shift is perhaps more emphatic in the literature on reflection in teacher education. Indeed, as previously noted, scholars like Zeichner (1996) have been claiming for awhile now that reflective inquiry is meaningless, if not clearly tied to goals of greater equity and social justice. Some self-study researchers, like Brown (2004), argue that “self-study is uniquely suited to contribute to an understanding of race and social class issues in
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education” (p. 520). “Self-study’s focus on educators’ self-reflective inquiry at the point of practice and construction of inside-out versus outside-in knowledge may promote substantive changes in teacher education and support democratic, transformative efforts to provide a quality education for all students” (p. 543). But again, this can only happen if those in self-study ask these questions, something many believe has yet to happen to any substantive degree (e.g., LaBoskey 2004b; Schulte 2004; Whitehead 2004). By giving more explicit attention to the development of reflective inquiry, as currently defined, this self-study aim may be better achieved.
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Using pictures at an exhibition to explore my teaching practices. In C. Mitchell, S. Weber & K. O’Reilly-Scanlon (Eds.), Just who do we think we are? Methodologies for autobiography and self-study in teaching (pp. 58–68). London: Routledge Falmer. Hamilton, M. L., Loughran, J., & Marcondes, M. I. (2008). Teacher educators, student teachers and the self-study of teaching practices, chapter 14. In A. Swennen & M. Van der Klink (Eds.), Becoming a teacher educator (pp. 205–218). Dordrecht, The Netherlands: Springer. Hamilton, M. L., & Pinnegar, S. (1998). Conclusion: The value and the promise of self-study. In M. L. Hamilton (Ed.), Reconceptualizing teaching practice: Self-study in teacher education (pp. 235–246). London: Falmer Press. Hutchinson, N. L. (1998). Reflecting critically on teaching to encourage critical reflection. In M. L. Hamilton (Ed.), Reconceptualizing teaching practice: Self-study in teacher education (pp. 124–139). London: Falmer Press. Johnston, M. (2000). Students of color as cultural consultants: A self-study. In J. Loughran & T. Russell (Eds.), Exploring myths and legends of teacher education. Proceedings of the third international conference on self-study of teacher education practices (pp. 122–125). Herstmonceux, England. Kingston, ON: Queen’s University. Kaplan, J. (2006). Self-study of teacher education practices: Merging the affective and the effective in classroom methodology. In L. Fitzgerald, M. Heston & D. Tidwell (Eds.), Collaboration and community: Pushing boundaries through self-study. Proceedings of the sixth international conference on the
17â•… “Doing as I Do”: The Role of Teacher Educator Self-Study in Educating for Reflective Inquiry self-study of teacher education practices, Herstmonceux Castle, East Sussex, England (pp. 138–142). Cedar Falls, IA: University of Northern Iowa. Kelchtermans, G., & Hamilton, M. L. (2004). The dialectics of passion and theory: Exploring the relation between self-study and emotion. In J. Loughran, M. L. Hamilton, V. LaBoskey & T. Russell (Eds.), International handbook of self-study of teaching and teacher education practices (pp. 785–810). Dordrecht: Kluwer. Kitchen, J. (2002). Becoming a relational teacher educator: A narrative inquirer’s self-study. In C. Kosnik, A. Freese, & A. Samaras (Eds.), Making a difference in teacher education through self-study. Proceedings of the fourth international conference on self-study of teacher education practices, Herstmonceux, East Sussex, England (pp. 36–42). Toronto, ON: OISE, University of Toronto. Korthagen, F. A. J. (1995). A reflection on five reflective accounts. Teacher Education Quarterly, 22(3), 99–105. Korthagen, F. A. J., Kessels, J., Koster, B., Lagerwerf, B., & Wubbels, T. (2001). Linking practice and theory: The pedagogy of realistic teacher education. Mahwah: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Korthagen, F., & Verkuyl, H. (2002). Do you meet your students or yourself? In C. Kosnik, A. Freese, & A. P. Samaras (Eds.), Making a difference in teacher education through self-study. The proceedings of the fourth international conference of the self-study of teacher education practices, Herstmonceux Castle, East Sussex, England, August, 2002 (Vol. 2, pp. 43–47). Kingston, ON: Faculty of Education, Queen’s University Kosnik, C., Freese, A., & Samaras, A. (2002). Searching for integrity in our research and practice. In C. Kosnik, A. Freese, & A. P. Samaras (Eds.), Making a difference in teacher education through self-study. 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Oxford, United Kingdom: Elsevier Limited. Lomax, P., Evans, M., & Parker, Z. (1998). For liberation…not less for love: A self-study of teacher educators working with a group of teachers who teach pupils with special educational needs. In M. L. Hamilton (Ed.), Reconceptualizing teaching practice: Self-study in teacher education (pp. 167–177). London: Falmer Press. Loughran, J., & Northfield, J. (1998). A framework for the development of self-study practice. In M. L. Hamilton (Ed.), Reconceptualizing teaching practice: Self-study in teacher education (pp. 7–18). London: Falmer Press. Mishler, E. (1990). Validation in inquiry-guided research: The role of exemplars in narrative studies. Harvard Educational Review, 60(4), 415–442. Oda, L. K. (1998). Harmony, conflict and respect: An Asian-American educator’s self-study. In M. L. Hamilton (Ed.), Reconceptualizing teaching practice (pp. 113–123). London: Falmer Press. Peterman, F., & Marquez-Zenkov, K. (2002). Resiliency and resistance in partnering to prepare urban teachers. In C. Kosnik, A. Freese, & A. P. Samaras (Eds.), Making a difference in teacher education through self-study. The proceedings of the fourth international conference of the self-study of teacher education practices, Herstmonceux Castle, East Sussex, England, August, 2002 (Vol. 2, pp. 84–90). Kingston, ON: Faculty of Education, Queen’s University. Pinnegar, S. (1998). Introduction to part II: Methodological perspectives. In M. L. Hamilton (Ed.), Reconceptualizing teaching practice: Self-study in teacher education (pp. 31–33). London: Falmer Press. Placier, M. (1995). ‘‘But I have to have an A’’: Probing the cultural meanings and ethical dilemmas of grades in teacher education. Teacher Education Quarterly, 22(3), 45–64. Placier, P., Burgoyne, S., Cockrell, K., Welch, S., & Neville, H. (2005). Learning to teach with theatre of the oppressed. In J. Brophy & S. Pinnegar (Eds.), Learning from research on teaching (pp. 253–280). Oxford: Elsevier. Placier, P., Cockrell, K., Burgoyne, S., Welch, S., Neville, H., & Eferakorho, J. (2006). Theater of the Oppressed as an instructional practice. In C. Kosnik, C. Beck, A. R. Freese, & A. Samaras (Eds.), Making a difference in teacher education through self-study (pp. 131–146). Dordrecht, The Netherlands: Springer. Rodgers, C. (2002). Defining reflection: Another look at John Dewey and reflective thinking. Teachers College Record, 104, 842–866. Russell, T. (2002). Can self-study improve teacher education? In J. Loughran & T. Russell (Eds.), Improving teacher education practices through self-study (pp. 3–9). London: RoutledgeFalmer. Samaras, A., & Freese, A. (2006). Self-study of teaching practices. NY: Peter Lang.
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V.K. LaBoskey and M.L. Hamilton Schön, D. A. (1983). The reflective practitioner. New York: Basic Books. Schuck, S. (2006). Evaluating and enhancing my teaching. In P. Aubusson & S. Schuck (Eds.), Teaching learning and development (pp. 209–220). Dordrecht: Springer. Schulte, A. K. (2002). “Do as I say.” In C. Kosnik, A. Freese, & A. P. Samaras (Eds.), Making a difference in teacher education through self-study. Proceedings of the fourth international conference on self-study of teacher education practices, Herstmonceux, East Sussex, England (Vol. 12, pp. 101–105). Toronto, ON: OISE, University of Toronto. Schulte, A. K. (2004). Examples of practice: Professional knowledge and self-study in multicultural teacher education. In J. J. Loughran, M. L. Hamilton, V. K. LaBoskey & T. Russell (Eds.), International handbook of self-study of teaching and teacher education practices (pp. 709–742). Dordrecht: Kluwer. Schwabsky, N. (2002). How do principals’ problem-solving and self-study complement each other? In C. Kosnik, A. Freese, & A. P. Samaras (Eds.), Making a difference in teacher education through selfstudy. The proceedings of the fourth international conference of the self-study of teacher education practices, Herstmonceux Castle, East Sussex, England, August, 2002 (Vol. 2, pp. 106–110). Kingston, ON: Faculty of Education, Queen’s University. Tell, C. (2001). Appreciating good teaching: A conversation with Lee Shulman. Educational Leadership, 58(5), 6–11. Tidwell, D. (2002). A balancing act: Self-study in valuing the individual student. In J. Loughran & T. Russell (Eds.), Improving teacher education practices through self-study (pp. 30–42). London: RoutledgeFalmer. Trumball, D. (2006). Sharing my teaching journal with my students. In P. Aubusson & S. Schuck (Eds.), Teaching learning and development (pp. 67–82). Dordrecht: Springer. Valli, L. (1989). Collaboration for transfer of learning: Preparing preservice teachers. Teacher Education Quarterly, 16(1), 85–95. Whitehead, J. (1989). Creating a living educational theory from questions of the king, “How do I improve my practice?”. Cambridge Journal of Education, 19(1), 1–11. Whitehead, J. (2004). What counts as evidence in self-studies of teacher education practices. In J. J. Loughran, M. L. Hamilton, V. K. LaBoskey & T. Russell (Eds.), International handbook of self-study of teaching and teacher education practices (pp. 871–903). Dordrecht: Kluwer. Zeichner, K. (1996). Teachers as reflective practitioners and the democratization of school reform. In K. Zeichner, S. Melnick & M. L. Gomez (Eds.), Currents of reform in preservice teacher education (pp. 199–214). New York: Teachers College Press.
Chapter 18
Professional Pedagogies and Research Practices: Teaching and Researching Reflective Inquiry Through a Medical Portfolio Process Martina Kelly
Context Teaching and Researching Reflective Inquiry: A Personal Perspective Reflection is a key part of my work as a family doctor. On my daily commute, it has become habit to mull over the stories of my day – considering why a patient has returned with a seemingly trivial problem or if I could have handled a conversation with a colleague better. Over the years, this practice has helped me understand people and myself. I believe it has improved my interaction with patients, their families and colleagues. It has also rescued me (and my family!) on the days I felt like giving up as I try to cope with all the emotions that I encounter on a daily basis. Reflection contributes to my ability to be successful and happy in my chosen career. My introduction to educational portfolios and a more structured approach to reflection came as a student myself, while participating in a teaching program run by my university, which was attended by teaching staff across the campus. This process culminated in a master’s degree, assessed by portfolio submission. Throughout the course, many of us struggled with the portfolio. Those of us with a science background were frustrated by what we felt were a lack of clear objectives. Years of working in a scientific paradigm made me reluctant to share my opinions or acknowledge the role of feelings as part of my professional identity. It was strange to write things down, committing private thoughts to paper. I felt exposed. Sharing these with colleagues and knowing my peers would read them were threatening – I appreciated the student perspective with new eyes! Yet as I engaged with the portfolio, I realized the many advantages it had to offer. This was the first time I formally engaged with learning as an adult – the process was just as important to me as the outcome. I was not driven by the need to get a first class honor – this was more about learning how to improve my teaching and to understand how to continue that process when the course was over. All of us really enjoyed the lively debates that emerged as we shared our teaching experiences. The cycle of thinking, writing, and discussing became very important to me. The best bit, of course, was then implementing things that emerged with my students. I also felt part of a larger community –and still do. The use of a portfolio to stimulate learning has fostered institutional change by bringing
M. Kelly University College Cork, Cork, Ireland
N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_18, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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diverse faculty together to share the intimacies of our classroom experiences. It kindled a sense of collegiality and ownership where a sense of isolation and lack of confidence had once resided. I was keen to share this approach to learning with my students and introduced a portfoliotype approach in my course. However, in doing so, I realized that my dual role of doctor/ educator has allowed me insights into two very different worlds, where reflection is constructed differently. In this chapter, I share the mechanics of what I have learnt and consider some of the issues that make this ambition so challenging.
The Bigger Picture: The Imperative for Reflection in Professional Medical Training Reflection, in particularly documented by means of portfolio, is widely advocated across the continuum of medical education, at undergraduate level (Epstein 2007, General Medical Council 2003), for postgraduate training (Harden 2006, Accreditation Council for General Medical Education, American Board of Medical Specialities) and for continuing professional development (General Medical Council 2000, Mathers et€al. 1999). Why is this and where did the idea originate? The 1990s saw increasing public disquiet with the nature of medical professionalism. Traditional professional privileges such as autonomy and self-regulation came under increasing scrutiny; not helped by a series of high profile cases e.g., Shipman, the Bristol Heart case (Mohammed et€al. 2001; O’Neill 2000). Tensions between commercialism and professionalism were highlighted as the nature of medical practice became more complex. The intimacies of the consultation are no longer confined to patient and doctor – other voices have a say – ‘its not just patients and doctors anymore; purchasers, regulators and other practitioners must be brought into the [social] contract’ (Wynia 2008). Many patients were disillusioned with their doctors, who seemed to have become increasingly distant and unresponsive to the needs of an evolving society. It was apparent that the medical profession was in crisis. The profession responded with a re-examination of professionalism itself (Swick 2000, Cruess et€al. 2002, Inui 2003, Arnold and Stern 2006) and consideration of how best to ensure core principles, such as altruism, accountability, humanism and a commitment to excellence, remain enshrined in practice. There is now widespread support that professionalism must be taught actively and explicitly, and portfolio use is widely advocated as a means to achieve this (American Board of Internal Medicine 1995, American College of Physicians-American Society of Internal Medicine Foundation 2002, European Federation of Internal Medicine 2002, Royal College of Physicians of London 2005). Congruent to this movement was the growing recognition that medical training in its entirety needed to change, stimulated by a critical review of the General Medical Council (1993). The late 1990s also saw the emergence of ‘competency based’ training (Scottish Dean’s Medical Curriculum Group 2000; ACGME Outcome project 2000; General Medical Council 2003), which emphasizes an outcome based educational framework (Harden et€al. 1999), i.e., what the doctor can do. Conventional methods of teaching and assessment, which focused primarily on the acquisition of knowledge were inadequate for the task. Modern medical training aims to promote high quality learning by fostering deep approaches to learning and metacognitive skills such as personal organization and reflection (Mattick and Knight 2007). Consequently, a number of new learning strategies are being employed; learning in the tiered lecture theater is being complimented (and in some cases replaced) by small group activities, such as problem-based learning. Curricula at both under graduate and post graduate level include courses on personal and professional development which embrace principles of adults learning; the emphasis is placed on being learner centered,
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using experience as a source of learning and flexibility to allow for differences in learning styles. Portfolios are lauded (General Medical Council 2003, Accreditation Council for General Medical Education) as the ideal means to demonstrate these approaches. Let us consider in more detail, what exactly a portfolio is. Reflection and Professionalism; Assumptions in the patient doctor relationship…. Traditionally, medical students learn about the importance of confidentiality by means of a lecture. Following this, there is an assumption that they will treat all patient information accordingly. In contrast, in this reflective piece, we see how the student considers the concept from a personal perspective, followed by a more general deliberation. After my history and having examined the patient, I thanked him for spending his time and helping me. I turned to leave, when he tugged my coat and called me back. ‘Look, you won’t be going off now and telling this to everyone will you?’ He croaked. Taken aback, I asked if he had told the doctors the same story. ‘No, no, not the doctors’ he continued ‘you won’t go to your friends now and be talking about me, will you?’ I assured him that everything he told me was in utter confidence and that nobody other than the doctors and nurses would know about it. Walking away I wondered why had he been so worried? Did I appear untrustworthy? Had something happened in the past? Had I given the impression that I was going to present his history to the hospital over a loudspeaker? This was the first patient I had met to ever mention confidentiality to me. I had assumed, until now, that it was taken for granted. But I realized I had never said this to any patient. Should I? Such an important foundation on a trustworthy working relationship and consultation, never mentioned? I wondered whether or not it was something I should mention, or would this arouse suspicion? How much else is taken for granted in patient doctor relationships? That the doctor knows what is happening, that the doctor is always right, that the doctor know what is best. The relationship seems based on assumptions and a stereotypical image of the physician and this was first patient I met who actually was not sure of this and wanted confirmation. Because it is taken for granted, is it possible for a physician to forget€all these things and to forget what the patient is assuming simply because he never needs to say it? If so, should the doctor remind every patient of what to expect from a consultation and indeed from the physician himself? Finally, could the assumptions have negative consequences and cause the physician to attempt to live up to the stereotype to the detriment of patient care?
What Is a Portfolio? Portfolio use in medicine originates from a working paper published by the Royal College of general Practitioners in 1994. Indeed, much of the initial work on portfolios in medical education is based on the research on trainee family doctors (Snadden et€al. 1996; Snadden and Thomas 1998). Two key papers outline the rationale and use of portfolios in medical education; that of Snadden et€al. (1999) and that of Friedman Ben David et€al. (2001). The term portfolio itself is rather vague. A portfolio may be defined as a collection of work that demonstrates that learning has taken place (Davis et€al. 2001) (see Table 18.1). In its simplest form, a portfolio is a compilation of documents – digital or paper based. This may more correctly be termed a logbook. Logbooks are frequently used in medicine to track the incidence of educationally relevant activities such as the number of procedures performed. A portfolio on the other hand is more demanding. Reflection is a fundamental part of the portfolio process. Thus, the term portfolio in its true sense is more than a container – it is a mode of inquiry (Lyons 2002). Entries explore activities facilitating a transformation of perspective. Students not only focus on the outcome but also on the process of their experience. Through reflection, the student reconsiders his or her experience, examining what went well and what did not. Most importantly, the student examines why. Finally, he or she arrives at conclusions that will inform future practice. Inherent in this engagement is the idea that students are learning about how they learn, that reflection a self-monitoring process intrinsically linked to experience and change.
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Unfortunately, if we look at how portfolios are used in practice, their investigative nature is not always realized. Webb et€al. (2002) examined the use of portfolios in nursing education. They concluded that four models of portfolio construction exist; the shopping trolley, the toast rack, the vertebral column and the cake-mix (see Table 18.2). They suggest that these models may represent some form of continuum, evolving as educators become more familiar with the use of portfolios. Can this model be applied to medical education? It is difficult to tell. One problem relates to the quality of traditional reporting in medical education. While much is written about portfolios, the detail required to make comparisons is not obvious. Can we compare a portfolio report on undergraduate training with one at postgraduate level? We simply do not usually get enough information to make that decision. A number of in depth case studies exist which indicate that a number of universities are certainly producing some delicious cakes, e.g., Maastricht and Dundee. It is obvious in these examples that ‘reflective practice and reflexivity are not subjects but a pedagogical approach which pervade[s] the curriculum.’ (Bolton 2005 p. 3). However, we do not know how many courses at the level of module or curriculum have not reached these lofty heights as we do not tend to publish our ‘failures’, and the proponents of reflective portfolios are more likely to spread the good news. It is also apparent that these universities have invested hugely to reach this level – a recent paper by Dannefer and Henson (2007) at the Cleveland Clinic Lerner College of Medicine gives a detailed account of the effort required. Anyone involved with curricular reform will realize the huge amount of time, energy, and determination required to implement such changes. My suspicion is that on the ground many of us are struggling; while a number of us aspire to a ‘cake mix’ practical issues inhibit this attempt. I also suspect that the ‘shopping trolley’ may actually provide a ‘tick the box’ approach required for external bodies in terms of providing diversity of teaching instruction and assessment on paper, while maintaining the status quo. The only way to clarify this is to ensure that some key material is provided when publishing work on portfolio use. Tentatively, I would suggest that a minimum requirement includes an outline of the objectives of the portfolio, the context in which it is used (which is usually given) and, most importantly, how reflection is taught.
Instructing with Reflective Portfolios In this section, I examine the literature on how to set up and use a reflective portfolio – the nuts and bolts of adopting a portfolio approach. A number of authors (Driessen 2007a; Pinsky and Fryer-Edwards 2004; Wade and Yarbrough 1996) give guidance on some of the secrets of success when choosing to implement a portfolio. These are 1. Clear purpose and structure 2. A supportive learning environment 3. Adequate learning experiences 4. Clear assessment guidelines. Each of these is examined separately.
Clear Purpose and Structure Clear instructions are one of the key requirements for students and staff alike. Instructors need to decide what type of portfolio they are using – which relates to the objectives of the
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course/module. Generally, portfolios fall into two broad categories; the ‘work-based portfolio’ and the ‘outcome-based portfolio’. In a work-based portfolio, the student documents his or her work and demonstrates how he or she is learning. It can include everything from brainstorming activities to drafts to finished products. It can include the best and weakest of student work. The collection becomes meaningful when specific items are selected out to focus on particular educational experiences or goals. In contrast, the ‘outcome-based’ (showcase) portfolio is best used for summative evaluation of students’ mastery of key curriculum outcomes. It should include students’ very best work, determined through a combination of student and teacher selection. The work-based portfolio is used to facilitate student learning, whereas the showcase portfolio is used to demonstrate the achievement of learning objectives. This issue needs to be clarified initially by staff and then communicated explicitly to students as clarity re-assessment is probably one of the biggest obstacles I have encountered when introducing a reflective portfolio. An orientation session is useful, supplemented with working examples (which may need to be borrowed from colleagues or mocked up), to stimulate discussion. The approach needs to be contextualized by supplying evidence for the need to adopt a reflective approach (as above). The flexible format of portfolios is both an advantage and a challenge. Flexibility accommodates multiple ways of demonstrating achievement but makes assessment more difficult. The introduction of e-portfolios has extended the range of material that learners may choose to incorporate. A recent review shows that this flexibility is an important feature of the successful portfolio (Driessen 2007a). However, a balance must be maintained. Students should have the freedom to select material they feel is pertinent, while at the same time have some guidance on what is expected. In particular, students bemoan the amount of paperwork involved in compiling a portfolio. (Rees and Sheard 2004; Elango et€ al. 2005; Kjaer et€ al. 2006). Instructors should suggest a ‘lean’ (Driessen et€ al. 2008) and ‘smart’ (Mathers et€ al. 1999) approach to portfolio making, reducing paperwork and increasing feasibility – for example, consider capping the word count. Having some working examples are again very useful in this regard.
Table€18.1â•… Models of portfolio structure (a summary of Webb et€al. 2002) Linking to learning Model Contents and reflection Little cohesion Dependant on student Shopping trolley – a Little or no student evaluation – anything used or vehicle to collect of contents in relation to produced during items learning objectives learning Material related to each Level of reflection determined Toast Rack – the rack by individual module module, slots in to is a convenient No overarching narrative to overall portfolio device to collate connect items material No reflection on how items selected Spinal Column –central Each item is used once; Series of competency statements/vertebrae form if repeated, it is column and the central column of reproduced at the evidence slots in assessment appropriate level of students must link evidence the spinal column to these Individual items Students must produce Cake Mix – the evidence linking material portfolio has an to learning objectives integrative function Reflective writing is used to link these objectives
Assessment Formative May not be seen by teacher Each item assessed individually, by different assessors – no linkage between items May or may not be interlinked competencies
Overall product is assessed – overarching course objectives
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Learning plans Learning diaries Reflections on work-life balance Encounter cards Logbooks Essays Notes on readings (e.g., novels, humanities or social sciences) Case studies Ethical dilemmas Audit Critical review of articles Peer feedback Faculty evaluation forms Standardized and real patient evaluations Poetry Video clips Audio clips CD rom material
Organizing material selected and explaining why it has been chosen an important part of the reflective process when compiling a portfolio (Wisker 1996). Students are expected to demonstrate ‘a personal investment – evident in the student’s selection of contents, the criteria for selection and the student’s self-reflection’ (Gisselle and Martin-Kneip 2000). The process should develop a student’s abilities to identify his or her strengths and weaknesses in addition to indicating his or her developmental needs (Priest and Roberts 1998). More recently, attention has turned to the use of electronic portfolios (Lewis and Baker 2007; Kalet et€ al. 2007; Sandars et€ al. 2008) and the use of multimedia as a means of developing reflective skills. The electronic format allows faculty and other professionals to evaluate student portfolios using technology, which may include the Internet, CD-ROM, video, animation or audio. The use of hyperlinks and varied formats may stimulate learners to include diverse material and organize their thoughts in a more structured, concise manner. Barrett (2006) considers that ‘digital story-telling is a highly motivating strategy that can make reflection concrete and visible.’ Driessen et€al. (2007b) compared the use of paper with web based portfolios in a class of first year medical students and concluded ‘web-based portfolios were found to enhance students’ motivation, were more user-friendly for mentors, and delivered the same content quality compared with paper-based portfolios. This suggests that web-based presentation may promote acceptance of portfolios by students and teachers alike’ Of interest is that students spent more time preparing web-based portfolios and were more likely to include visual material. There was no significant difference in satisfaction between the two formats. The web-based portfolio was more appealing to tutors as they were able to access student material more easily; which has practical implications. One of the key advantages to e-portfolios is that they offer practitioners and peers the opportunity to review, communicate and assess portfolios in an asynchronous manner. A potential drawback to the use of e-portfolios is that technology may become the focus of attention rather than the quality of learning (Dornan et€al. 2002; Dagley and Berrington 2005). As in all decisions within education, the decision to use a paper or web based portfolio is dependant on the purpose of the course and the intended students. Practical issues such as technical support and cost also need consideration. The use of technology and learning style may be of relevance. The provision of reflective space (aka the portfolio) does not always lead to reflection (Pearson and Heywood 2004). Grant et€al. (2006) noted that undergraduate medical students who did not fully engage with reflective learning
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often stated that the process did not match their learning preferences. To date, learning style has received limited attention in medical programs (Cook and Smith 2004; Laight 2004). However, recently, it has been suggested that there are fundamental differences in the way students of the ‘Net Generation’ learn (Oblinger and Oblinger 2005). They prefer to be actively engaged in tasks, rather than writing about them, and are motivated to learn from being actively involved in projects. They also prefer to work in groups in which they can talk about what they are doing and help fellow group members. Initial work by Sandars and Homer (2008) provides some evidence for this, emphasizing the need for educators to carefully consider how reflection is taught within a program.
A Supportive Learning Environment The successful implementation of reflective portfolios requires students and staff ‘buy in’. Students value the input of mentors, reporting that a supportive relationship fosters reflective learning (Snadden et€al. 1996; Pearson and Heywood 2004; Mathers et al. 1999; Driessen et€ al., 2005a). The challenge to educators is to ensure that participants feel enable to engage in such dialog. To achieve this, there must be a good relationship between students and supervisor. Grundy and Kemmis (1982) stresses the need for learners to have the freedom to make a genuine choice, rather than conform to the influence of the teacher and other students. For this to happen, she argues that there must be a structure that allows equal power relationships between group members, including the facilitator, if the freedom to choose is a valid one. Reflection, therefore, challenges the traditional role of teachers in medical education from that of authority figure to that of facilitator. Using a reflective portfolio requires the student to act as his or her own expert; the student determines material suitable for entry relative to learning needs. Thus, the attitude of faculty to reflection is fundamental to the success of portfolio implementation. Lack of familiarity and experience may be a barrier – most of the day-to-day teaching of students takes place in the hectic clinical environment. As Branch and Paranjape (2002) conclude, ‘while feedback is not used often enough, reflection is probably used even less.’ They postulate that this may be due to physicians’ personal discomfort with exploring emotions, as most doctors are trained to think concretely. Expert clinicians have little exposure to reflection as a structured activity yet primarily lead teaching. They tend to recognize their expertise from a cognitive and technical perspective. Many are unaware that they reflect intuitively. Fryer-Edwards et€ al. (2006) underscore the need to involve faculty from the outset, e.g., the program should be framed as a pilot, and initial ideas can be presented in a ‘works-in-progress’ format. Even if faculty nominally value the concept, my experience is that they find the practicalities of applying reflective learning difficult. Pee et al. (2000) reports on a qualitative study in dental practice, where tutors and students were asked their opinion of reflective learning. Although tutors responded that they thought reflection was useful, they tended to see it as something additional to their regular teaching and learning activities. The view that reflection was peripheral to both dental education and to the learning process itself was prevalent: “there is little time left for this type of ‘extra’ activity.” The influence of the hidden curriculum (Hafferty and Franks 1994; Coulehan 2005) should be discussed. Studies as far back as the 1950s (Eron 1955), until present day show that the experience of being a medical student is stressful and uncomfortable (Radcliffe and Lester, 2003; Sarikaya et€al. 2006). More worrying is the evidence demonstrating a decline in certain attributes such as moral reasoning (Feudtner et€ al. 1994; Patenaude et€ al. 2003). ‘Good students – bad schools’ (Hafferty 2006) sums up the image portrayed.
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Reflective portfolios may help counteract this as one of the fundamental roles of reflection to stimulate change. Bolton (2005, p. 1) considers this in her introduction to reflective practice – ‘the paradox is that reflective practice is required by the system- yet its nature is essentially politically and socially disruptive; it lays open to question anything taken for granted’. She continues by quoting Reid and O’Donohue (2004, p. 561) enquiry based education ‘education for creativity, innovativeness, adaptability, ease with difference and comfortableness with change….[is] education for instability.’ This is supported by the work of Harvey and Knight (1996) who emphasize the need for higher education to play a more active role in fostering ‘transformatory learning’. This argument is of particular relevance to medical training. The apprenticeship model which has traditionally existed in medicine is one in which the apprentice is unquestioning. Some students may be afraid to adopt a critical perspective for fear of the consequences, e.g., future assessment or employment opportunities. Yet for professional education to flourish, if the profession is to retain its privileged position in society, this perspective must be encouraged. Role models and mechanisms which foster reflection in the form of self and peer review are fundamental to this process. This is emerging at present within medical education and continuing professional development, e.g., the integration of student evaluation of staff as part of teaching portfolios and patient feedback as part of professional reaccreditation. It is important that this process is made overt to students to avoid the perception that double standards are being applied – one rule for students and one for faculty (Leo and Eagen 2008). Reflection and the learning environment: are we ready to act on the outcomes of reflection? A student believes he or she has discovered that medical negligence may be the cause of his or her patient’s illness. The student reflects; This case raises a number of challenging issues for me as a medical student. When I approached my tutor about using this case as part of my portfolio, he was very cautious. He was quite worried that I might be seen to be criticizing his colleague and in the process overstepping professional bounds. I couldn’t help but feel as if he was more concerned about the potential fallout than about the strictly medical issues raised by the case…… I continued to wonder about my role as a medical student, stirring the pot in my GP practice. Is there a place for student investigation of gray issues such as this and should I cautiously proceed to explore the case (in the face of my tutor’s resistance) if I genuinely thought my work might have the potential to inform future patient management and avoid similar outcomes for other patients? We are encouraged to think critically and to question the rationale for established clinical decisions and therapies, but what if we impinge of a practitioner’s ‘authority’?
A Word on Ethics The provision of a supportive learning environment goes beyond rhetoric. ‘Primum non nocere’ (‘first, do no harm’, Hippocrates) is the fundamental principle of medical practice. Could reflective practice have the potential to harm? Let us consider the example of a student who explores his or her feelings unearthing some personal conflict. It may be that as a result the student needs counseling – or help that goes beyond teacher-student relationship (which can already be challenging in medical settings where most teachers are clinicians). Appropriate support in the wider context of the educational setting should be discussed by staff so that clear guidance is available to them. On a more personal note, I sometimes think – what right do I as a teacher have to ask my students to explore, what may be painful issues? On one hand, I am hoping that the process will help them (and their patients) in the future. However, I am conscious of the lack of conclusive evidence in this regard. The issue of ownership also needs deliberation. If students entrust us with personal material, we must carefully think about who has access to this information; how it will be stored and for how long. There may be legal implications also – e.g., there is growing evidence that lapses in professional behaviour observed in medical school are associated with subsequent unprofessional conduct in practice (Papadakis et€al. 2005; Kirk and Blank 2005).
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It is possible that student material could be used as evidence of poor professional behavior? What is the responsibility of the university in this regard?
Adequate Learning Experiences Reflection is not intuitive and students need help. A number of frameworks exist to help stimulate reflection – that proposed by Johns (1995) (Table€ 18.3) is commonly used in medicine (although developed in nursing). I also like to keep asking ‘why’ – why did this happen, why did I feel this way, why did I react like this? I hope that by continuing to probe (why) students will gain a deeper understanding of their experience. Jenny Moon (2000, 2004) also provides a number of useful tips, which, because of their generic nature, help students focus in the process of reflection (Table 18.4). Some of these exercises are fun and well placed in the orientation session, many of these are available at her website; http://www.cemp.ac.uk/themes/reflectivelearning/ Material needs to be supported by evidence. This helps to give a concrete feeling to the portfolio. Discussion on assessment results is usually useful – students never tire of learning how they could do better! As the students’ skills develop, flexibility should be allowed to display the personal qualities of the student (Dreissen et€al. 2005a) (Table 18.5). Table€18.3â•… Questions to help students reflect on an event (based on Johns 1995) Description – describe the event. Describe the context/background of the experience. Describe your thoughts and feelings Reflection – exam your motives and the consequences of actions for yourself/others (including possible emotional reactions) Influencing factors – what internal and external factors influenced the event? Alternative strategies – what options/choices did you have? What were the consequences of these options? Learning – what have you learnt? What will you do (or not!) the next time? Table€ 18.4â•… Moon’s levels of reflection (2004) – useful for students and teachers From descriptive to reflective account From no questions to questions to responding to questions Emotional influence is recognized, then handled increasingly effectively ‘standing back from the event’ Self-questioning – challenge own ideas Recognizing the relevance of prior experience Taking others views into account ‘Metacognition’ – the review of the reflective Table€18.5â•… Student Tips for constructing a successful portfolio (Azer 2008) • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Take action – start today Understand what is needed from you Have a clear purpose Invest in reflection and critical thinking Be creative Provide examples Keep organizing your portfolio Be committed Enjoy what you are doing Receive feedback Learn from your failures Look for improvements Keep asking questions Keep your focus Eliminate negative thoughts Monitor your progress
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Portfolio entries document context specific evidence of learning. Each reflection is unique to that experience. Context is receiving increasing attention in education. Clinical skills, laboratories and the use of simulation now provide a safe environment in which students can learn. However, this only provides the ‘shows how’ of Miller’s pyramid (Miller 1990), the ‘does’ can only be provided in real-life settings. Again, we return to the idea that the essence of professionalism is the ability to manage the unfamiliar; adaptability. Reflection allows analysis of the authentic context specific events. It allows us to study the reality of practice versus the theory. In this way, the subtleties of practice can be examined and learnt from, including the ‘hidden’ and ‘null curriculum’ (as above). The study of context is also important when assessing professionalism, e.g., in what circumstances do doctors decide that patient ‘deception’ is acceptable? Is honesty always the best policy? (Ginsburg et€al. 2000) Ginsburg observes such questions usually emerge in a situation of conflict, often between two (or more) equally worthy professional or personal values and the ultimate decision depend on the specifics of the situation. In addition, independent of the outcome, the process of how the decision is made is just as telling and deserves specific attention. Single encounters in clinical practice are ideal for this method of reflection. The use of critical incident technique (Flanagan 1954), singly or by means of grand rounds, morbidity and mortality conferences or audit reports are also valuable methods to promote reflection. Standard instructions for writing a critical incident report for use in medical education are usually open-ended. The writer is asked to describe an incident judged to be of great importance to his or her practice. It could be a learning experience, an especially challenging or meaningful moment, or an event witnessed by the writer that proved highly influential or even disturbing. More focused instructions may also be used, if, for example, one wished to focus on a particular objective. Critical incident reporting is encouraged in undergraduate education and is standard practice in many forms of postgraduate training and continuing professional development (Branch et€al. 1993; Branch, 2005; Chisholm and Croskerry 2004; Allery et€al. 1997). The technique is especially useful to explore underlying assumptions (Brookfield 1990) and facilitates ‘transformative learning’ by providing access to experiences that encourage personal growth (Mezirow 1990). I, particularly, like this method of teaching as it encourages students to be self-critical from an early stage. It discourages students from seeing doctors as infallible –‘to err is human’– what is important is that we acknowledge our lapses and learn from them (Kohn and Corrigan 2000). The method is also gaining increasing importance as a means for reducing medical error (Wolff and Bourke 2000). In this way, reflective thinking is not only fostering change at an individual level but within the profession itself. By learning from our mistakes in a transparent and publically accountable way, the medical profession has the opportunity to reassert its professional status. Used in this manner, reflection has the capacity to turn a negative experience into a positive one (Branch 2005). On this note, I agree with the suggestion of Driessen et al. (2008) that in examining experiences that we also pay attention to our success stories. We learn just as much from what we do well and perhaps this area could receive more attention in the literature. Other professionals might reflect differently– but in medicine, it is rare to read about our accomplishments. Yet we must be doing some things right!
Writing and Reflection Traditionally, portfolio entries are written. The use of journal writing as a means of promoting reflection and learning in educational settings has been widely advocated (Boud et€al. 1985; Charon 2000; Hawkins and McEntyre 2000).
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Journal writing is used to enhance self-awareness, interpersonal understanding, critical analysis, cognitive learning, and clinical reasoning skills. The process of committing details to paper is useful as a means of stimulating observational skills but also as a means of allowing the observer to recall seemingly meaningless details; which may assume greater meaning upon reflection. The process of writing can ‘enable a harnessing of material such as memories which we do not know we remember and greater access to the possible thoughts and experiences of others’ (Bolton 2005). Use of creative writing (Charon 2001; Kasman 2004) including poetry (Poirier et€al. 1998; Henderson 2002) also enables understanding of different perspectives. Indeed, the role of narrative has gained increased attention recently within the medical literature (Greenhalgh and Hurwitz 1998; Engel et€al. 2008; Kumagai 2008). Proponents, in particular, emphasize the value of these records as a means of encouraging students to pay more attention to their feelings and develop their empathic skills (DasGupta and Charon 2004, Hatem and Ferrara 2001). Emotional maturity is an essential part of professional development (Hilton and Southgate 2007). A student reflects on the conflict between the doctor’s and patient’s perspective: Therefore, the doctor orders a battery of tests in order to give the patient the best treatment. But this is cancer, and the stigma involved with the disease sets up a vicious cycle of uncertainty between the patient and the doctor. The doctor knows he has bad news to deliver, but if he waits for all the tests to come back, he will be able to tell the patient more. The patient, on the other hand, has feared the worst for many months and is sick of fearing the unknown. Each day brings more tests, but never the answer. I stop by lending some moral support and see how the patient is doing. The patient keeps repeating how scared she is. I learn first hand why the doctor is deliberating – this is a fragile patient, but also see it through the patient’s perspective of how utterly terrifying it must be waiting for news which almost certainly gets worse the longer they go without hearing anything.
Writing is not for everyone. One of the most frequent complaints from my students is their dislike for writing – its time consuming and they say, does not increase their learning (‘I would have thought this anyway’); they are not alone – this has also been documented by Jasper (1999) and Chirema (2007) in their work with nursing students. There is a danger that journal writing can become just another chore (Jung and Tryssenaar 1998). It is worth noting that writing, although an essential professional skill, is not addressed in a structured fashion in traditional medical curricula. Yet the written word is one of the key ways by which doctors communicate. By fostering students’ ability to think and describe their feelings in relation to certain events, it is likely that we can help develop students’ affective learning skills. It might also be important to clarify to students that they are not assessed on the quality of their writing but the content (Gearhart and Wolf 1997). In fact, Driessen et€al. (2006) conclude that irrelevant criteria such as writing style and lay-out had negligible effects on the assessment of a reflective portfolio. This may be important for students where English is not their first language– common within medical education in the Irish context.
Visual and Audio Methods Pictures (Miles and Kaplan 2005), films (Blasco et€al. 2006) and music (Blasco et€al. 2005) are also strategies useful to the promotion of reflection. Recently there is much interest in the role of medical humanities (Frich and Fugelli 2003; Gordon 2005; Dittrich 2003) within medical education as a means of supporting ‘mindfulness’ (Epstein 1999). These methods are generally used as stimuli to engage learners – the depth of reflection remains
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the responsibility of the learner. In my experience, I have found the use of movies to be particularly useful in exploring emotional issues. Film allows an immediacy, which has great practical use – one can get to the nub of the problem quickly. They are also useful for exploring students’ personal feelings and challenging stereotypes. This can be used to discuss issues before they arise – a form of anticipatory reflection per se. For example, many students are concerned about how they might deal with a patient who is angry or crying. By examining a series of film clips, students can explore hypothetical situations in a protected environment. Challenging stereotypes using film Gender is recognized as an important issue in healthcare. Yet it is difficult to engage students in a meaningful way, in particular, to explore their attitudes. As part of a student selected module, students are asked to watch a number of films by Jane Campion (The Piano, Holy Smoke, In the Cut, Portrait of a Lady). The class is presented as a means of studying her skills as a director. Students select clips and discuss the issues arising in the films. Following class discussion (usually intense!), students are asked to reflect on what they learnt. Unsurprisingly, the issue of gender roles emerges strongly (the objective of the class). Students write about their discomfort of seeing weak male role models; of their unease with a sexually aggressive female. They question the way they have adopted certain attitudes to men and women. For example, Harvey Keitel usually plays the archetypal male – students express dismay at seeing him disempowered (including wearing a dress) in Holy Smoke
Additional Resources Kasman (2004) gives a concise overview of how to introduce reflective writing. Driessen et€ al. (2008) give a practical overview of how one might adopt a reflective approach with a student in difficulty. The E-portfolio website of Faculty of Medical Sciences Computing & School of Medical Education Development, Newcastle University is full of tips and has key articles available via hyperlink, visit http://www.eportfolios.ac.uk (accessed 20/1/09) and Helen Barrett has an excellent site on digital storytelling, with numerous links http://electronicportfolios.com/digistory/ (accessed 20/1/09).
Clear Assessment Guidelines and Evaluation The role of portfolios in assessment has been written about extensively (Friedman Ben David et€ al. 2001; Shumway and Harden 2003; McMullan et€ al. 2003; Carraccio and Englander 2004). A fundamental advantages of portfolio based assessment is that it avoids a reductionist approach to assessment, allowing multiple ‘bites at the cherry’. A portfolio amalgamates evidence from different sources, allowing assessors to make an overall judgment of competency. Portfolios are recognized for their ability to assess complex integrative competencies in authentic situations. They are especially used to evaluate areas that are difficult to assess by traditional methods, e.g., teamwork & self-directed learning (Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons of Canada 2006). Should Reflective Portfolios Be Assessed? Within the literature, as alluded to earlier, one of the key issues to clarify is the purpose of the assessment and the need to make these explicit to students. A number of
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authors express concern that introducing assessment will inhibit reflection and diminish its value (Bolton 2005; Brockbank et€al. 1997). Even if one decides to assess – will it be summative or formative? The fear is that students will not be honest in their reflections, if they are assessed. However, studies examining the combination of formative mentoring and summative assessment in a single portfolio (Mathers et al. 1999; Driessen et al. 2005b) did not report this conflict between learning and assessment. A practical suggestion to overcome this issue is to engage different instructors for formative and summative purposes, e.g., in Maastricht, all mentors form part of the portfolio committee but do not mark their own students’ portfolio for summative purposes. An additional safeguard is the Patchwork Text assessment (Winter 2003). This requires students to present a series of fragments created over time from their learning experiences, synthesized into a final submission. Failure to assess portfolios may undermine their use (Pearson and Heywood 2004; Snadden & Thomas, 1998). Driessen et€al. (2007a) conclude that summative assessment is essential if portfolios are to be successfully integrated into the curriculum – summative assessment not only drives learning but that it also serves to recognize the amount of time that students and staff commit to the process.
Quantitative or Qualitative Approaches? The discourse on the role of portfolios in assessment reflects the tension between quantitative and qualitative paradigms currently within medicine. Major concerns exist about the lack of evidence of reliability and validity (Roberts et€ al. 2002); which has limited the widespread adoption of portfolios for high stakes summative assessment, particularly at undergraduate level. However, it is of note that these concerns do not seem to be matched at postgraduate level. Inter-rater reliability is examined in a number of studies (Tate et€al. 1999; O’Sullivan et€al. 2004; Herman et€al. 1995; Pitts et€al. 1999; McMullan et al. 2003; McCready 2007; Driessen 2007a). Within the current literature, inter-rater reliability averages 0.63, indicating moderate agreement. A value of 0.8 is recommended for high stakes examination. To achieve high levels of inter-rater reliability of portfolios, they should be carefully introduced to well prepared students and should be of uniform content. Using a small pool of experienced, trained scorers who use clearly articulated criteria is advisable. Assessors need to have a shared understanding of the purpose of assessment and a deep understanding of expected student performance. There is some evidence that using these principles may increase inter-rater reliability (Pitts & Coles 2003). The issue of portfolio validity is subject to less scrutiny. Again, Driessen et€al. (2006) lead the field and have developed the Portfolio Analysis Scoring Inventory to examine the impact of form and content on portfolio assessment. In practice, portfolio committees are frequently used. The latter usually comprises teachers who have supervised portfolios for a particular cohort; they may or may not be involved in the assessment of their own students. Global assessments are usually awarded, e.g., pass or fail as opposed to percentages (Davis et al. 2001; Tate et€al. 1999; O’Sullivan et€al. 2004). Assessors must be supplied with pre-determined (and preferably discussed) rubrics or benchmarks for each grade. Areas that might be assessed relate to identification of personal learning needs, consideration of past learning experiences (how students build on prior knowledge), level of reflection (see below), framing of learning within a wider context, the ability to draw conclusions in relation to learning objectives for the module, overarching course and future learning. Double marking is advised. It must be noted that
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the process is time consuming – assessment for the final medical exam in Dundee takes at least 3–4 examiner hours for each student, a total of 400–500€h of examiner time (Davis et€al., 2001). Challis (2001) suggests that portfolios should offer students the opportunity to engage in a ‘professional conversation’, as part of the assessment process. A number of institutions do include interviews to supplement the written work (Gordon 2003; Hays 2004; Davis et al. 2001). This involves a discussion on material (often randomly selected), the main purpose of which is to assess the students’ ability to demonstrate insight into their own performance. Questions might address why material is included; how it relates to the curriculum and how it has informed future learning. In particular, attention should be given to how the material selected relates to overarching competencies (see the cake mix concept above). Evidence supporting these claims should be sought. Formative feedback often forms part of the interview process, even if it is being used summatively. It is interesting to note that the tripartite interview (student, practice mentor and academic supervisor) model commonly used in nursing has not transferred to medical practice. Interviews have the potential to contribute to course evaluation in addition to their role in student assessment (Hays 2004; Beveridge 1997). They also foster closer greater understanding between students and staff (Norman 2008; Dannefer & Henson 2007). Recently, Burch and Seggie (2008) have suggested that a 30-min structured interview is a feasible and internally consistent method of assessing reflective portfolios. They suggest that this may overcome resource issues when using portfolio based assessment. It is interesting to note that Pitts and Coles (1999), and Pitts et al. (2001), who have conducted considerable research on inter-rater reliability, argue against the use of standardized (quantitative) approaches to portfolio assessment, suggesting qualitative approaches are more appropriate (Pitts and Coles 2003). The adoption of a holistic interpretive approach is supported by Webb et al. (2003) and Driessen (2005b). Thus, issues of credibility, transferability, dependability and confirmability need to be addressed in a systematic manner. Driessen et€al. (2005b) present a case study of how they did this in first year undergraduate medical degree course. Five qualitative research strategies were used to achieve credibility and dependability; triangulation, prolonged engagement, member checking, audit trail and dependability audit. Students had to submit information from different sources (triangulation) and discuss their portfolio with their mentor at least twice during the year (prolonged engagement). Mentor and student discussed the year of year grade (member checking) which was confirmed by an independent rater (to separate formative and summative assessment). If there was disagreement between mentor and student, two raters reviewed the portfolio. Disagreement between the latter resulted in the portfolio being discussed by the full committee. They conclude that the process was feasible and most importantly of a high standard. In my opinion, many of the concerns raised in the debate on portfolio based assessment mirror issues that are challenging the assessment in general. With the exception of purely factual tests, there is an element of subjectivity in most of the tools we use to assess students. The use of standardization methods, e.g., examiner training, written rubrics, etc. helps address this issue.
Assessing Reflection The discussion so far has focused on the assessment of the portfolio in general terms and places heavy reliance on the role of the assessor. Are there any means of assessing the skill
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of reflection in ways that are more specific? Unfortunately, although the general literature is resplendent with theoretical frameworks in this regard, it seems singularly absent from medical writings. The closest we seem to have come is the development of a number of self-report scales, which focus on gaging students’ openness to reflection. These are the Reflection-in-Learning Scale’ (RLS) (Sobral 2000, 2005); the Groningen Reflective Ability Scale (GRAS) (Aukes et€ al. 2007); the Self-reflection and Insight Scale (SRIS) (Grant et€al. 2002, Roberts & Stark, 2008) and that of Boenink et€al. (2004), where case vignettes were used. The development of these scales varies, and although reference is made to a number of theoretical frameworks, only the SRIS is firmly rooted in a theoretical concept, that of self-regulation. These scales are not advocated for assessment purposes but rather as a means to evaluate educational interventions. It is, however, interesting to note that our attempts to examine the depth of reflection have focused on quantitative approaches. I am unsure if this reflects the large class sizes that predominate in medicine and necessitate economical measures (an area medicine could perhaps contribute to the field in general) or if perhaps, it underscores our fundamental need to quantify and measure?
Destructing Reflective Portfolios: The Problems in Practice So far, we have examined primarily the mechanics of portfolio making. Yet, even if I adopt all the advice given above (as I have, well tried to!), I hypothesize that educators will run into problems. In this section, I present a critical overview of what I perceive to be the key issues blocking the advance use of reflection in medical education. My argument is based on the observation that our positivist heritage eschews the value of tacit or personal knowledge, and it is intolerant of the concept of uncertainty. Both are fundamental to reflection. While the literature indicates a current re-evaluation of these concepts, this is led by an academic minority. Historic and practical issues pervade the day-to-day delivery of teaching. Consequently, reflection, as currently used, lacks definition and a theoretical framework with which to progress much of the valuable work currently undertaken in the field. What is reflection? Examining the literature, we see diverse representations and uses (see Table€18.6). Aukes et€al. (2007) propose that reflection in medicine falls under three broad categories; clinical reasoning, with problem-solving as its focus (doctor as expert); scientific reflection
Table€18.6╅ Scope of reflective practice use in professional training, with sample of literature Scope of reflection General literature Medical literature Sobral, (2000) Marton et€al. (1984) Stimulate deep learning Shumway and Harden (2003) Moon (2000) Develop critical thinking Campbell et€al. (1996) Mezirow (1990) Foster self-directed learning Mathers (1999) Enable students to examine problems Bolton (2005) Driessen et€al. (2003), Driessen (2005) from multiple perspectives Kjaer et€al. (2006) (Clinical reasoning and Scientific Maughan et€al. (2001) reflection) Boud and Walker (1993) Charon (2001) Awareness of emotions DasGupta and Charon (2004), Moon (2000) Develop self-awareness Hattem and Ferrara (2001) Herman and Winters Mindful practice Kumagai (2008) (1994) (Personal reflection) Gordon (2003) Epstein (1999)
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refers to evidence based critical thinking (doctor as scholar) and finally personal reflection (doctor as person), with the key function of optimizing balanced professionalism. Their sub categorization provides a useful framework with which to examine the range of papers published on the role of reflection and portfolio use. However, it also highlights one of the biggest problems facing teachers, researchers and most importantly students – reflection seems to be all things to different people; such as the portfolio, it can be a catchall phrase – put the two together – and chaos can emerge! In my experience, although few can define reflection, there is a working concept, that is summed up in the response given by most of my colleagues; they ‘know it when they see it’ (Justice Potter Stewart’s definition of obscenity (Jacobellis v Ohio, 378 U.S. 184, 197, 1964)). Yet, as a teacher, particularly if I choose to assess students work, I need a working definition. Driessen and his colleagues in Maastricht are leading authorities on reflection and portfolio use in medical education, and they provide a practical definition; ‘reflection means letting future behaviour be guided by a systematic and critical analysis of past actions and their consequences.’ (Driessen et€al. 2008). Reflection is viewed as a cyclical process. Students start by analyzing their learning experiences. They then distil learning objectives from the strengths and weaknesses emerging from the analysis. These are then pursued by students in subsequent learning experiences, at which point the cycle starts again. The portfolio is used as a vehicle to record these investigations and is supported by mentor meetings. In their work, Driessen et€al. are influenced by the work of Korthagen et€al. (2001) and advocate the use of the ‘ALACT’ model as a useful means to instruct students in the skill of reflection. In their recent paper, Driessen et€al. (2008) give a practical outline of how this model works in practice, outlining how common strategies to foster reflection in medical education such as audit and critical incident analysis are well supported by this model (Table€18.7). It is worth noting the similarity with Kolb’s (1984) model of experiential learning, which would be familiar with those in medical education, facilitating its use in clinical settings. Is this definition enough? How helpful is this model? I believe this definition and model are the ideal starting points for reflection, particularly in the initial stages of undergraduate level. In addition, how they are applied to a case study is extremely useful to teachers in the clinical setting. However, from my own perspective as a teacher, I feel I need a more in depth model to inform how I construct reflection. My own experience would suggest that ‘awareness of essential aspects’ is quite complex and more demanding than a single step. I base these observations on my own classroom research, which formed the basis of my master’s thesis and is provided as a case study below. I suggest that a more complex model is needed if we are to explore the potential of reflection as expressed by its diverse use. Table€18.7â•… Comparing experiential learning and the ALACT model
Trial Testing new situations
Forming abstract concepts
Action
Concrete experience
Observation and Reflection
Kolb’s model of experiential learning
Creating alternative methods of action
Looking back on the action
Awareness of essential aspects
ALACT model showing phases of learning
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In fact, it was as I worked on this project that I became more aware of the dearth of empirical evidence on how reflection is constructed in medical education. Others have noted this – in Driessen’s (2007) systematic review on the successful use of portfolios in medical education only 30 studies reported concrete data. Of those, only two studies reported outcomes in terms of performance improvement (Gordon 2003; Campbell et€al. 1996). There has also been some suggestion that reflective deep processing of information may be associated with diagnostic ability (Bordage et€al. 1990; Sobral 1995; Mamede et€al. 2008). Mamede and Schmidt (2004), examined reflection in relation to problem-solving and provided a tentative theoretical framework based on the administration of a questionnaire to a group of family doctors. The dimensions they propose are deliberate induction, deliberate deduction, testing the hypotheses against the problem at hand, an attitude of openness towards reflection and meta-reasoning. The issue of openness to reflection has received considerable attention in the literature and is the basis of many of the scales mentioned in the section on assessment. The suggestion is that openness to reflection indicates an interest in engaging in the process, which is important with regard to self regulation, a cornerstone of professional education.
Case Study In University College Cork, students become fully immersed in clinical work when they are in third year. They leave the security of the classroom to enter a hectic new world; one with a different language and hierarchy. Although students have prior clinical exposure, this is relatively protected. In third year, they are expected to fully absorb themselves into the teams to which they are attached. Congruent to this is the expectation that they are more assertive in the pursuit of their own learning needs; the knowledge part of the course is virtually complete – this is about application of their knowledge in the clinical context. It is a difficult time for students. Having read the theory, I was interested to see what reflection could tell me about how students learn. I asked students to write reflections on each clinical attachment addressing 3 questions; What did I expect? What did I learn? Where next? In the first question, students were asked to identify strengths and gaps in their learning which they needed to pursue to guide their learning during the attachment. After the attachment, they needed to consider what they learnt and what they did not learn (e.g., if it had been identified as a learning goal). Finally, they needed to suggest specifically what they would now do to further their learning. Students handed over their reports after each rotation. I adopted an action research approach. Each batch of reflections was analyzed by qualitative content analysis and some of the key themes, particularly ones that seemed to be causing students’ difficulty were discussed in class, albeit within a large group setting (i.e., I used a ‘lecture’ slot to present some of the findings and discuss them). I also used a class survey and learning style questionnaire at the end of the year to see what students thought of the process and to see if those students with a reflective learning style preferred reflection. Three key themes emerged from my data; these were the personal foundation of knowledge (which related to students ideas, concerns and expectations), experiential learning as a cognitive, affective and skill based process and social professionalization. The model of reflection processes as proposed by Boud and Walker 1993 seemed best to fit my findings. There was lots of evidence of ‘reflection in action’, which feel under the theme of ‘thinking on one’s feet’. The constant nature of this was initially very challenging for students, but they soon adapted and seemed to enjoy it ‘My experience showed me that the best way to learn is to participate and actually try to perform not merely observing. Hopefully, this is something I can incorporate into my future studies.’
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The model also highlights the role of the learner (personal foundation of knowledge and intent). This is something, which has rarely been the focus in medical education, but is important if we consider we are adopting a constructivist approach to learning. For example, one student wrote about her concern of going to the oncology ward as her aunt had died of cancer relatively recently. In fact, one of the most striking findings from my project as a teacher was how isolated many of the students were concerning their emotional learning. They were confused between maintaining a level of professional objectivity and learning to cope with a range of intense emotions. The role of context and learning environment (the milieu) also emerged strongly. To help students feel supported in critical evaluation in their learning environment, I encouraged them to make reference to the ‘Policy on the rights of patients in medical education’ (Doyal 2001) This was written by students in St Bartholomew’s and the Royal London School of Medicine and Dentistry as a means of addressing the conflicts they experienced while on clinical attachments. To fully address all my findings, I further integrated this model with the concept of single and double-loop learning (Argyris and Schön 1974), as advanced by Hawkins (1997) and Brockbank and McGill (1998). This allowed me to account for what I termed the ‘eureka moment’ – that sudden realization that sometimes occurs during reflectionin-action, which gives new insights into a given situation and allows for a paradigm shift. My final model (Fig.€18.1) is shown below. The next challenge, therefore, is to examine the barriers that are preventing further elaboration of reflection. Paulson and Paulson (1994) discuss approaches to portfolio making, distinguishing between a positivist and constructivist philosophy. In a positivist portfolio, “the purpose of the portfolio is to assess learning outcomes and those outcomes are, generally, defined externally. Positivism assumes that meaning is constant across users, contexts, and purposes.
Preparation
· Learner · Social Context · Skills/Strategies
Emergent Knowing
New Understanding
Paradigm shift
Eureka Moment Personal foundations of knowledge/intent Cognitive domain
Affective domain
Reflection in action
Re-evaluation of experience Attend to feelings Return to experience
Skills domain After (Reflection on action) Social-Political context Experience (Reflection in action)
Fig.€18.1╅ Model of reflection processes in learning from experience (Boud and Walker 1993, p. 77)
18â•… Professional Pedagogies and Research Practices Aktins & Murphy, (1993)
Schon (1983)
Mezirow (1981, 1991)
Boud et al (1985)
Non Reflectors Return to the experience
Self awareness Description (verbal / written)
Critical analysis
Surprise Conscious reflection
Criticism
Synthesis Evaluation
New Perspective (Learning)
Reflectors Attend to feelings Awareness of thoughts and feelings Association (reflectivity) Psychic reflectivity
Action
Van Mannen (1977, 1995) 0 Non Reflective (irrelevant or no entry) 1 Everyday thinking and acting (technical reflection)
2 Reflection on incidental and a limited way on practical experiences of everyday life (Practical reflection)
369 Zeichner & Liston, (The Reflective Index, 1987)
Griffiths & Tann (1992)
I Factual
1. Rapid reflection Immediate and automatic Reflectionin-Action 2. Repair
II Prudential Evaluates the effectualness of actions or suggests alternatives
Integration
3 More systematic III Justificatory reflection on own Examines reasons experience and that of why actions others occurred
Critical Reflectors (challenging one’s underlying assumptions)
Validation
4 Reflect on the way we reflect on the form of our theorising Could show transformation of knowledge or belief (emancipatory)
Changed perspective (perspective transformation)
Change in cognitive, affective perspective, may lead to change in behaviour
Appropriation
IV Critical Referring to values, beliefs, assumptions underlying the reasons given to support a course of action
Thoughtful Reflectionin-Action 3. Review
Surbeck, Han, and Moyer (1991)
Reacting commenting on feelings towards the learning experience, such as reacting with a personal concern about an event.
Less formal Reflectionon-action at a particular point in time 4. Research Elaborating – Comparing reactions More with other systematic experiences, such Reflectionas referring to a on-Action over a period general principle, a theory, or a of time moral or philosophical position. Retheorizing Contemplating – and research focusing on constructive personal insights or on problems or difficulties, such Long term as focusing on Reflectioneducation issues, on-action training methods, informed by future goals, public attitudes, ethical academic matters, or moral theories concerns.
Hatton & Smith (1995)
Moon (2000)
Descriptive: Describing events without reasons
Noticing: Basic seeing and memorising
Descriptive reflection: Describing events and providing reasons (mostly personal opinion)
Making sense: Coherent reproduction but not related to previous learning
Dialogic reflection: Mulling over reasons and exploring alternatives internal dialog
Making meaning: Integrated and well linked ideas
Critical reflection: Sophistocated reflection, taking account of social and political context
Working with meaning: Relating new material with previous learning
Transformative learning: Strong restructuring of ideas and ability to evaluate the process of learning
Fig.€18.2╅ Model of reflective learning shown by my students
The portfolio is a receptacle for examples of student work used to infer what and how much learning has occurred.” In contrast, the constructivist portfolio “is a learning environment in which the learner constructs meaning. It assumes that meaning varies across individuals, over time, and with purpose. The portfolio presents process, a record of the processes associated with learning itself; a summation of individual portfolios would be too complex for normative description.” They continue “The two paradigms produce portfolio activities that are entirely different…. The positivist approach puts a premium on the selection of items that reflect outside standards and interests…. The constructivist approach puts a premium on the selection of items that reflect learning from the student’s perspective.” (p. 36) The tension between these two paradigms is apparent in medical education. The positivist approach has traditionally dominated medical training. The constructivist approach challenges some key features of medical training, particularly in terms of the student-teacher relationship and how knowledge is defined. As I consider these issues, I realize that the question of expertise is fundamental to how reflection is conceptualized within medicine. Specialized Knowledge A short time ago, knowledge was hard to come by and experts were people with a lot of it (Fraser and Greenhalgh 2001). Medical knowledge is based on a positivist approach – ‘empirical science is not just a form of knowledge but the only source of positive knowledge’ (Comte and Ferre 1988). The duty of trainees was to memorize this knowledge – this in turn would enable them to develop expertise. The art of medicine was
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Â� considered important in an abstract way, but this was downplayed when compared with the importance of science. “With the incoming of scientific precision there is the outgoing of so-called art. Diagnosis by intuition, by careless ‘rule of thumb’… is as little trustworthy as the shifting sand of the Sahara” (Dr. John Musser, president of the American Medical Society 1904 in King 1983). However, it is only of late that this perspective has been subject to more critical evaluation. Eraut (1994) provides a useful framework to contextualize this analysis. He defines four types of professional knowledge; propositional, personal, process (including metaprocessing) and ‘know-how’. Propositional knowledge refers to what most people call fact; it is this codified knowledge that has been the traditional focus of medical education. It forms the basis of conventional educational activities and remains an important component of assessment. However, this type of knowledge is only the initial building block in the development of clinical competence (and beyond). It provides the language with which we understand and communicate our expertise. Self-awareness of gaps in our knowledge directs ongoing learning. The most part propositional knowledge is explicit. It can be quantified, modeled and readily communicated. This forms the basis of important activities such as the development of evidence-based guidelines. Yet possession of this type of knowledge alone fails to address the complexity of professional practice – if this was the case, computers would be doing my job! More recently, attention has focused on the idea of ‘personal knowledge’ – ‘what individual persons bring to situations that enables them to think, interact and perform.’ (Eraut 1994) It is a ‘collection of information, intuitions and interpretations that guides professional practice.’ (Polanyi 1974). It also includes emotions. The practitioner may be unaware of this knowledge but apply it unconsciously. This type of tacit knowledge usually learnt through practice and observation (Epstein et€al., 1998; Teunissen et€al. 2007) and includes learning of the ‘hidden’ or ‘null’ curriculum. Increasingly, there is recognition that tacit knowledge plays an important part in clinical reasoning and professionalism. Indeed, some authors have progressed these ideas, re-iterating the value of imagination and creativity ‘problem-solving in a complex environment requires cognitive processes similar to creative behaviour’….we believe the imaginative dimension of professional capability is best developed through nonlinear methods – those in which learners embrace a situation is all its holistic complexity.’ (Fraser and Greenhalgh 2001). Furthermore, failure to acknowledge feelings may have a detrimental effect ‘unexamined negative emotions lead to emotional distance and arrogance’. (Epstein 1999). Many of the strategies used to foster reflective practice focus on the development of personal tacit knowledge, e.g., creative writing and the use of narrative. The reconsideration of how knowledge is defined has a direct bearing on how reflection is conceptualized in medical practice. The cycle of history shows medicine as a philosophy, an art and a science. Now we are attempting to embrace all three aspects, and reflection is posited as the vehicle to help deliver this. This may be fine in theory, but how is this applied in practice? The stimulus for the use of reflection is coming from outside (i.e., society) and above (medical regulation bodies) whereas many practitioners are busy trying to keep up to date, in the false belief that increasing their prepositional knowledge is what is required from them, as this is what has traditionally been presented to them as valid. The emergent interest in personal knowledge is very challenging to most practitioners as it has never really been valued within our profession. Therefore, we come to a position of conflict. Students are being told to reflect but are being taught (in the majority) by a group of physician’s who have been trained themselves with a totally different value system. Those of us in medical education are caught somewhere in the middle. The question of expertise also implies an inherent hierarchy of ability. This issue is not addressed in the current medical literature on reflection. Rather reflection is presented as ‘a done deed’; studies on undergraduates and postgraduates fail to distinguish between the level of reflection achieved. This is in stark contrast to the work by other professions which abound in attempts to rationalize the process of reflection (see Fig.€18.2).
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A number of studies in medical education are published showing student views on reflection (Rees and Sheard 2004; Pee et€ al. 2000; Mathers et€ al. 1999; Gordon 2003; Tigelaar et€al. 2006) with mixed results. Yet the kernel of why this may be, is indicated by a number of observations. Hays (2004) writes ‘younger students respond differently to the idealised model, which may well apply better to more mature professional learners. Many students have little understanding of self-directed learning and want to focus on the curriculum before them’. Indeed, a number of studies have shown that students with less academic and professional maturity need support and clear instructions when starting out (Scholes et€al. 2004; Boenink et al. 2004). King and Kitchener (1994) also show that graduate students have persistently higher scores in the reflective judgment interview. Driessen et€al. also indicate the need for students to have more support in the initial stages of portfolio use. This all makes intuitive sense. Experience is the basis for reflection, students need adequate experiences to reflect on. I will expand this observation, again, in the context of how we view professional knowledge. To facilitate this discussion, I will draw on the model of reflective judgment proposed by King and Kitchener (1994), which builds on the work by Dewey (1916, 1933), Perry (1981), among others. The conceptual framework for reflective judgment is that of a stage model characterized by seven distinct but developmentally related sets of assumptions about the process of knowing (view of knowledge) and how it is acquired (justification of beliefs). Each successive set of epistemological assumptions is characterized by a more complex and effective form of justification. The seven developmental stages of the Reflective Judgment Model may be broadly summarized into three levels: pre-reflective (Stages 1–3), quasireflective (Stages 4 and 5), and reflective thinking (Stages 6 and 7) (see Table€18.8). The key principle here is uncertainty. In order for reflection to occur, uncertainty must be recognized. This was part of Dewey’s original premise and is supported by the observations of Schön. an intellectualisation of the difficulty or perplexity that has been felt (directly experienced) into a problem to be solved, a question for which the answer must be sought Dewey, 1933 In each instance, the practitioner allows himself to experience surprise, puzzlement, or confusion in a situation which he finds uncertain or unique. He reflects on the phenomena before him, and on the prior understandings, which have been implicit in his behaviour. He carries out an experiment, which serves to generate both a new understanding of the phenomena and a change in the situation. Schön 1983: 69
Yet traditionally, uncertainty is poorly tolerated in medicine. Of note, family practice, which acknowledges the centrality of this as a concept has been one of the driving forces behind the advancement of reflection and portfolios. In my own experience, it takes considerable maturity and skill to recognize and acknowledge uncertainty. It is relatively uncommon at a junior level and indeed is something that traditionally we have not fostered ( I would even suggest the opposite!). Certainly, when admitted at this formative stage, it tends to be in terms of knowledge gaps – at the level of quasi-reflective reasoning. Additionally, students need some grounding before they can be enabled to adopt a critical perspective; maybe this is why portfolio use at an early stage is more challenging. I also suspect there may be confusion between what teachers and students expect. Teachers attempts to address this by emphasizing that the need for a more individual perspective is confused with what students believe is a request of a more personal nature and, therefore an intrusion on their personal thoughts. For example, many of the definitions of professionalism describe attributes, rather than behaviours, which has serious implications in terms of how best to teach and evaluate professionalism (Wear and Kuczewski 2004; Leo and Eagen 2008). I hypothesize that the freedom to acknowledge uncertainty comes with knowledge Â�proficiency. I suggest that recognition of uncertainty, in the context of complex problems, is an advanced skill. The acknowledgement of uncertainty as a key requirement is lacking
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M. Kelly Table€18.8â•… Model of Reflective Judgment (King and Kitchener 1994, 2002) Pre-reflective Reasoning (Stages 1–3): Belief that knowledge is gained through the word of an authority figure or through firsthand observation, rather than, for example, through the evaluation of evidence. People who hold these assumptions believe that what they know is absolutely correct, and that they know with complete certainty. They treat all problems as though they were well-structured.QuasiReflective Reasoning (Stages 4 and 5): Recognition that knowledge-or more accurately, knowledge claims-contain elements of uncertainty, which attribute to missing information or to methods of obtaining the evidence. Although they use evidence, they do not understand how evidence entails a conclusion (especially in light of the acknowledged uncertainty), and thus tend to view judgments as highly idiosyncratic. Reflective Reasoning (Stages 6 and 7): People who hold these assumptions accept that knowledge claims cannot be made with certainty, but are not immobilized by it; rather, they make judgments that are “most reasonable” and about which they are ‘relatively certain,’ based on their evaluation of available data. They believe that they must actively construct their decisions, and that knowledge claims must be evaluated in relationship to the context in which they were generated to determine their validity. They also readily admit their willingness to re-evaluate the adequacy of their judgments as new data or new methodologies become available.
from the medical literature. In the context of Driessen’s work, this may be appropriate as most of his work is based on undergraduate students. We recall that Schön’s work was on the observation of practicing physician’s, not medical students. Thus, the use of some framework that links level of reflection with level of expertise may be helpful in terms of scaffolding reflection. For example, if we could relate the Dreyfus and Dreyfus (1980)model of competence (novice, advanced beginner, competent, proficient and expert) with Moon’s levels of reflection (2004), we might be able to clarify to both students and ourselves about our objectives in terms of using reflection. Certainly, the tolerance of uncertainty requires an environment, which is open to such concessions. This environmental change is underway in medicine, albeit slowly.
Constructing Reflection: The Way Forward Not all is doom and gloom. It is apparent that a number of medics are actively working in the area of reflection and engaging with the problems we currently face. Although I have adopted a critical perspective on the work of Driessen et€al., their commitment and drive to develop the use of portfolios and reflection demonstrates the tenacity of those involved in the reflection revolution. Perhaps, the area where reflective portfolios have gained the most attention and are likely to flourish is in the field of medical competency and self-regulation. Portfolio use emanates from the postgraduate arena, and it is there I see it progressing. A distinction is presently made between continuing medical education (i.e., that which focuses on knowledge and skills) and continuing professional development (Handfield-Jones 2002). The latter is a broader concept encompassing the wide-ranging activities (e.g., medical expert, communicator, collaborator, manager, advocate, scholar and professional) of contemporary practice (Prideaux et€al. 2000). The integrative nature of professional competency is acknowledged in the definition provided by Epstein and Hundert (2002). Competency is ‘the habitual and judicious use of communication, knowledge and technical skills, clinical reasoning, emotions, values and reflection in daily practice for the benefit of the individuals and communities being served.’ Reflective portfolios remain one of the key methods proposed to examine how competency is maintained. Yet, the ability of doctors to self regulate is coming under increasing scrutiny. A recent systematic review (Davis et€ al. 2006) suggests that physicians have a limited ability to Â�accurately self-assess. Norman (2008) also queries the value of portfolios on this basis.
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However, a core learning objective when adopting portfolios is to foster the skill of critical self-appraisal. Boud (1999) recommends ‘the phrase self-assessment should not imply an isolated or individualistic activity; it should commonly involve peers, teachers and other sources of information’. This distinction between reflection as a personal process and public process has received much attention in the general literature. There is recognition that reflection in isolation could be self-confirming (Bleakley 2000; Moon 2000; Land 2003). More recently, the idea of ‘making public’ reflections has been espoused (Shulman 1998; Lyons et€al. 2002), particularly within higher educational settings. This idea is further endorsed by Brockbank and McGill (1998) who emphasize that ‘reflective practice undertaken through reflective dialogue with another, or others, may promote transformational learning.’ This they term ‘reflexive dialogue’. Another term used is that of ‘collaborative reflection’. This ‘making public’ is what makes reflection an act of scholarship (Shulman 1998). Although such public confessions are rare in medicine (fear of litigation included), there is change in the air. The relationship between feedback and reflection is noted by Branch and Paranjape (2002) and further expended by Fraser and Greenhalgh (2001) who add that feedback on performance is a key step in transformational learning. Eva and Regehr (2008) expand on the concept of self-assessment and suggest that Boud’s model is more appropriately entitled ‘self-directed assessment’ as it describes a pedagogical activity of looking outward for formative and summative assessment of one’s current level of performance. Increasingly, attempts are made to learn from our mistakes, and the horror of Shipman and other scandals is impetus for many doctors who want to reassure patients that we are not all carved from the same ilk. Finally, the work of Epstein deserves mention. Epstein (1999) draws attention to the concept of mindfulness, which he proposes as an advancement on the concept of reflection. Mindfulness refers to a meditation practice that cultivates present moment awareness (Ludwig and Kabat-Zinn 2009). Epstein applies the concept to professional training, suggesting it offers a means to unite the technical, cognitive, emotional and spiritual aspects of practice. The goals of mindful practice are to become more aware of one’s mental processes, listen more attentively, become more flexible, recognize bias and judgments and thereby act with principles and compassion. Epstein lists the characteristics of mindful practice as follows; active observation of oneself, the patient and the problem, pre-attentive processing, peripheral vision, critical curiosity, courage to see the world as it is rather than as one would like to have it, willingness to examine and set aside categories and prejudices, adoption of a beginner’s mind, humility to tolerate awareness of one’s areas of incompetence, connection between the knower and the known, compassion based on insight and presence. Epstein suggests five levels of mindfulness (Table€18.9).
Table€18.9╅ Levels of mindfulness (Epstein 1999) Level Characteristic 0 Denial and externalization 1 Irritation: behavioral modeling 2
Curiosity: cognitive understanding
3 4
Curiosity: emotions and attitude Insight
5
Generalization, incorporation and presence
‘mindless practice’ i.e., recognizes problem, conforms but does not understand why Rely on evidence but ignore tacit, personal knowledge and emotions Understand the problem Understand how it might be solved Understands the interconnectedness between practitioner and knowledge Use insight to generalize, incorporate new behaviors and attitudes, express compassion
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In his stimulating paper, Epstein develops these ideas, emphasizing its relationship to critical reflection. Epstein’s levels are somewhat in line with ‘levels’ advocated by other professionals (Table€18.9, as before).
Conclusion Fifteen years ago Herman and Winters (1994) concluded that ‘Well-designed portfolios represent important, contextualised learning that requires complex thinking and expressive skills…. Portfolios are being heralded as vehicles that provide a more equitable and sensitive portrait of what students know and are able to do. Portfolios encourage teachers and schools to focus on important student outcomes, provide parents and the community with credible evidence of student achievement and inform policy and practice at every level of the educational system’ (p. 48). Since then, portfolio use has become widespread, especially in professional training. A cornucopia of literature exists extolling their value, primarily based on adult learning theory and drawing heavily on the writings of Dewey (1916, 1933) and Schön (1983). The problem for many of us in the classroom is that much less is presented in terms of empirical research. In this chapter, I consider first the mechanics of portfolio construction – some of the secrets of success identified by my peers and the techniques commonly used to stimulate reflection in clinical education. I then consider the theoretical aspects of portfolio use and present a personal reflection on the barriers I perceive to the advancement of reflection in medical education. I relate this to some of the practicalities of wrestling with how to successfully adopt the use of portfolios. Many issues arise not only in relation to students but with regard to the wider educational milieu. In my opinion, reflective portfolio use is difficult and not for the faint hearted. They require time, resources and commitment. One needs to carefully consider exactly why the approach is being used – and if it is the most appropriate one. To truly adopt a reflective portfolio approach, we need to open our hearts and minds to uncertainty and admit the limits of our knowledge. Attributes such as intuition, emotion and imagination need to be valued and creativity fostered. This is challenging in the face of the dominance of positivist thought. The emphasis must change to the how, not the what. However, change is in the air. In order to move forward, we need empirical research on the nature of reflection within medicine. We need to develop a discipline specific framework that deepens our understanding of exactly how reflection operates in medical practice. Linking the needs of our learners with the advances in our own discipline will enable us to forge new responses (Lyons 2004). The emergent theories can help us understand how learning occurs and with this understanding, we can organize instruction in meaningful ways (Hall 1996). In this way, we will contribute to development of discipline specific pedagogy as part of an evolving profession. Reflective portfolio use stimulates a range of questions for educators and highlights some of the tensions faced in professional training, in particular with regard to issues such as student centeredness and the role of assessment. Will the use of reflective portfolios result in a better professional? Will it improve our abilities to self-regulate performance and place people’s needs ahead of our own, as Epstein (2008) suggests? ‘reflective practice sessions have evolved to provide self-knowledge and a corrective to the natural human tendency to self-deceive.’ Other questions remain. Reflection as described by Schön was nearly an unconscious activity. Is it possible that reflection is a personality trait? For example, the study by Mamede and Schmidt (2004) showed that some doctors, never engaged in reflection. The levels proposed across the professions include that of ‘nonreflector’, implying a minimal level. However, it seems plausible that professionals may still be successful without reflecting. What strategies are used by this group? Surely,
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reflection is not the only show in town? Does gender play a role? Professions embracing reflection are predominantly female, e.g., teaching and nursing. Law and medicine, traditionally male preserves, would appear to value (from an educational perspective) reflection less. If we invest in reflection as a core skill for professional training, we need to examine the long-term consequences. If I am taught to become a reflective practitioner, does this mean I will automatically practice as one? Theoretically, if a doctor is more reflective and aware of his or her practice, he or she should be able to seek help (cognitively, skills wise or emotionally) when appropriate – will that be the case? This and many other questions remain unanswered. At present, I suggest that medicine is a little lost behind the looking glass, we cannot afford to assume the position of the Cheshire cat, but need to come back to the real world and re-evaluate where we are going
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Chapter 19
Narrative Inquiry as Reflective Practice: Tensions and Possibilities Charles Aiden Downey and D. Jean Clandinin
Introduction In this chapter, we take up the task of exploring the intersections, overlaps and tensions between narrative inquiry and reflective inquiry. We frame our exploration as a journey taken into the unmarked commonplaces and edges of these two methodologies to preserve how we muddled in, and sometimes up, what, at first, appeared to be familiar territory. The metaphor of a journey fits well with our goal to produce a sketch of our travels in, and between, these two methodologies rather than a bird’s eye view map. We hope that our journey will open up for the reader what it opened up for us: new ways of thinking about both narrative inquiry and reflective inquiry. Partly we assumed that this journey would be straightforward, as both narrative inquiry and reflective inquiry have roots in Dewey’s philosophy of experience. We begin with a brief explanation of how Dewey understood human experience as an unfolding inquiry. From this common ground, we will then engage in a showing rather than a telling of narrative inquiry, foregrounding key concepts and terms as we go in order to hold them next to our understandings of those of reflective inquiry. Along the way we keep an eye on where we started by tracing terms and concepts back to Dewey’s notion of experience to better understand how each methodology works with it. Finally, we turn to consider each methodology in terms of its broader goals – what we have come to call its “end game” – to chart possible intersections, overlaps, and tensions between these two forms of inquiry.
Dewey’s Philosophy of Experience Reflective inquiry and narrative inquiry both claim Dewey’s notion of experience as a foundational concept. While Dewey continued to develop his understanding of experience over his career we will work with his definition in Democracy in Education: When we experience something we act upon it, we do something with it; then we undergo and suffer the consequences. We do something to the thing and then it does something to us in return: such is the peculiar combination (1916).
C.A. Downeyâ•›() Centre for Research for Teacher Education and Development, University of Alberta, Room 633 Education Building South, Edmonton, Alberta, T6G 2G5, USA e-mail:
[email protected]
N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_19, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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For Dewey, doing can lead to undoing in the sense that our actions in a world act on us, with the result being an irrevocable alteration in both “it” and us. Dewey understood “us” and “it” not as distinct entities but rather as parts or aspects of an experiential whole, a point he struggled to make in a language prone to dichotomies. For our purposes, we take him to mean that to undergo an experience that occurs in the relationship between what we do in the world and what this does to us, the relationship between actions and reactions. Dewey’s two criteria of experience are continuity and interaction. By continuity he means “…every experience both takes up something from those which have gone before and modifies in some way the quality of those which come after” (1938). While Dewey believed continuity to be part and parcel of all experience, he considered growth to be the overarching goal of any experience, which he understood in terms of the quality and type of experiences any experience leads up and opens into. Critical to Dewey is the emerging vantage point created by the unfolding of experience, with each subsequent situation offering us a novel perspective to look back on the experiences leading up to, and out of, an experience, making “growth” provisional and emergent rather than fixed and found. For Dewey, this retrospection is always prospective, a looking backwards in the service of looking, and ultimately moving, forward towards both an immediate and more tangible goal, such as getting to work on time and the less tangible and more slippery goal of all experience: growth. His second criterion of experience, interaction, involves the interplay between “objective” and “internal” conditions (Dewey 1938). In The Child and the Curriculum Dewey (1902) explains his idea of interaction as a means to argue for a radical rethinking of education as neither child-centered nor curriculum-centered but rather focused on the creation of educative situations. In the same spirit as the explorers whose notes contributed to the making of the map, creating situations meant neither to have students simply follow the finished map nor to wander aimlessly in the wilderness, but to find a middle ground on which students learn how to “get the benefit of past effort in controlling future endeavor” (Dewey 1902). Dewey understood well that we each live in, and on, our own experiential middle grounds, always somewhat stuck in the mud of trying to get from here to there, from is to ought, and that this muddling around was something we should work on, as doing so would prepare us for the inevitable muddling that comes with the unknown of the future.
Reflective Thinking While Dewey considered continuity and interaction part of all experience, he believed a particular kind of thinking to be best suited for living in the midst and muddles of experience and as such capable of increasing the overall value of any experience. He termed this reflective thinking and built his entire notion of education around fostering it. Within Dewey’s concept of experience, we understand that for him the goal of reflective thinking is learning to make connections between what we do and what it does to us: To “learn from experience” is to make a backward and forward connection between what we do to things and what we enjoy or suffer from things in consequence. Under such conditions, doing becomes trying; an experiment with the world to find out what it is like; the undergoing becomes instruction – discovery of the connection of things (1916).
For Dewey, learning from experience is less a connecting of the dots of our doing to what it does to us than a reconsideration of the dots themselves. Most profoundly, this makes education an ongoing “reconstruction” of experience in the service of enhancing its meaning and one’s ability to “direct the course of subsequent experiences” (Ibid).
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Dewey linked his conception of learning to the inevitable muddiness that comes with muddling along; the turns that shift us from our original course of action, pointing us instead onto unexpected and unmarked routes that we then struggle to learn to navigate. Learning begins only when certainty ends. Following from this view, reflective thinking within Dewey’s concept of experience with its criteria of interaction and continuity, …involves a state of doubt, hesitation, perplexity, mental difficulty in which thinking originates; and an act of searching, hunting, inquiring, to find material that will resolve the doubt, settle and dispose of the perplexity (1910).
Revisiting Dewey then, we note that while doubt, uncertainty and perplexity are parts of situations, the distinction between reflective inquiry and narrative inquiry lives in whether, and how, these can be rung out of situations. While both narrative inquiry and reflective inquiry are concerned with how humans connect what they do to what their doing does to them, they take different tacks on the ways continuity and interaction impact on what we learn from experience. Perhaps, in our view, reflective inquiry stays closer to Dewey’s ideas and pursues “reflective thinking” as the best way to get after the making of connections. Narrative inquiry understands “stories both lived and told” as the connector of the person in the world, framing narrative as both phenomenon under study and method of study (Clandinin and Connelly 1990). We will return to this distinction later in the chapter, but with it in mind we now turn to narrative inquiry.
Narrative Inquiry We begin with what we know best and how we best know it by engaging in a showing rather than a telling of narrative inquiry. We hope to illustrate how narrative inquirers work within a metaphorical three dimensional narrative inquiry space in which they use a set of terms that point them backward and forward (Dewey’s continuity), inward and outward (Dewey’s interaction), with attentiveness to place or a series of places (Dewey’s situation). We see these dimensions as directions or avenues to be explored in a narrative inquiry (Clandinin and Connelly 2000). We do not see the terms in the same way that others might see them if they were positioned within a more conventional research paradigm, that is, as a set of analytic terms. Thinking narratively means keeping the terms close to their experiential origins, to think of them “not so much as generating a list of understandings achieved by analyzing the stories” (Clandinin and Connelly 2000) but rather thinking with them to understand the lives being lived.
Showing a Narrative Inquiry: Mapping Our Journey As we wondered about the intersections, overlaps, and tensions between narrative inquiry and reflective inquiry, we were taken particularly with the central concern of reflective inquiry as the interrogation of puzzling or problematic situations involving teaching and learning. Struggling with just what this meant we sought to ground it in own experiences. Jean told a story of a situation that unfolded in a classroom where she was a researcher to illustrate her understanding of a problematic situation. In response, Aiden told a story of what he considered a problematic situation from his experience as a student teacher in an inner-city high school that occurred over 10 years ago. The story appears below not exactly as he told it but as he wrote it later that same day.
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Telling the Story “This is bullshit! Why we gotta know this?” Dewarn’s words stopped me in my tracks. He and I were the only ones standing in the class, me inches from the blackboard and him at his lab bench three rows back. All of the students turned to look at him and then fixed their eyes on me. Worse yet this moment was being immortalized, as Janet, the field supervisor for my student teaching, had her eye in a video recorder aimed at me. Just moments earlier I had been selling atoms, trying to get the students in my ninth grade physical science class interested in what the state said I had to cover, knowing it would all go a lot easier if I could make these little bits of matter matter to them. About fifteen minutes into my well-planned pitch- one in which I sought, as I had been taught, to create “cognitive dissonance” in the students- Dewarn had slapped his hand on his desk, stood up and torpedoed my lesson plan, which had been designed to spark student questions and avoid this question. What to do, what to do…I had been stopped in my tracks. I had created cognitive dissonance to be sure, but now it was my own, as I struggled to think of how to answer the question and not look at the camera, which was closing in on me as Janet made her way up the side of the classroom. I honestly can’t remember what I said next. The “lesson” went on, as it had to, and the film continued to roll. Smiling, Janet handed me the tape at the end of class, but in the ten years since I have never watched it. I am not exactly sure why. But I often look at this tape and have made sure it has moved with me over the years. Dewarn’s words have always stuck with me, as I have told endless versions of this story, some to teachers, others to friends, and many to myself. When I think about teaching, learning, and curriculum he is there, standing his ground and challenging mine.
Retelling the Story We worked together to engage in the narrative inquiry into this story. Working within the three-dimensional narrative inquiry space, we first talked our way through what we might do and then decided to write in a relational way about the retelling we were engaged in. Aiden began in a long ago past as he described the encounter with Dewarn in the midst of enacting a carefully planned lesson with a video camera rolling. He slid even further backward as he described the moments leading up to the encounter and what he had been doing. He then slid even further back to give a hint of what he had been taught to do as a science teacher, that is, to create cognitive dissonance in and for his students. He slid forward again but provided no details on how he completed the lesson. He knew he took the videotape from his supervisor as he has it still, although he has not watched it. He then moved temporally forward saying he has recounted this story many times. He finally arrived at the present where he acknowledged that this moment with Dewarn is always with him when he thinks about teaching, learning and curriculum. The past moment with Dewarn stays with him as Dewarn continually stands his ground and challenges Aiden. Temporality was interwoven with place for Aiden told Jean the story first as they sat together in the Centre for Research for Teacher Education and Development on a cold winter day. The sky was blue outside but we both knew that the window was holding back the frigid temperatures. Aiden took us to another place, an inner-city high school classroom located far away in time and place. We left the warmth of the Centre place for that place that lives now only in Aiden’s memory. Aiden slid us inward and outward. As we began the story he told of Dewarn standing up and confronting him, slapping his hand against his desk, a move that stopped Aiden and caused him what he called the cognitive dissonance he had hoped to create for his students.
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A Reflection on Our Narrative Inquiry At this point in our journey, we pause to reflect on the central concepts and terms of narrative inquiry, first tracing them back to Dewey and then considering them in relation to our understandings of those of reflective inquiry. As we noted above, narrative inquiry takes up Dewey’s criteria of experience–interaction and continuity – to create a metaphorical three-dimensional narrative inquiry space: …our terms are personal and social (interaction); past, present, and future (continuity); combined with the notion of place (situation). This set of terms creates a metaphorical three-dimensional narrative inquiry space, with temporality along one dimension, the personal and social along a second dimension, and place along the third (Clandinin and Connelly 2000).
These terms point us in directions along the continuum of experience, which we understand as a narrative composition. Through stories humans create coherence through time, between the personal and social, and across situations. Stories are not just about experience but experience itself; we live and learn in, and through, the living, telling, retelling, and reliving of our stories (Clandinin and Connelly 2000). Narrative inquirers do not live outside of the three-dimensional inquiry space but rather live in it, alongside and in relation with their participants. Narrative inquirers tell stories about the stories they and others live and tell, keeping in mind how their own stories shape how they understand and tell the stories of others. They understand story as the fundamental unit of experience; one that cannot be broken down into smaller pieces without a loss of the wholeness of the life that produced it. In narrative inquiry, we try to understand the stories under or on the edges of stories lived and told, as no story stands on its own but rather in relation to many others – including the stories of the narrative inquirer. Returning to Aiden’s told story of Dewarn and our subsequent retelling of it, we see that it has not been reduced to a story about “this or that.” We have, rather, traced its movement within the three-dimensional narrative inquiry space to show how Aiden took us to a distant place and time to recount a moment that is anything but distant to him. We pointed to the different places and times Aiden wove into his story as possible avenues for further exploration. In narrative inquiry, the story itself stands, shifting the focus of the inquiry to understanding the many stories it stands on, beside or among, in order to render an account of life as it is lived.
A Turn Toward Reflective Inquiry Reflective inquiry also takes up Dewey’s notion of experience and reflective thinking to focus on what Dewey himself spent a great deal of time considering: how to best learn from the reactions to our actions. We borrow Lyons (2002) definition of reflective inquiry: Reflection is an intentional act engaging a person alone, but especially in collaboration with others – students, teachers, practitioners, other researchers or colleagues – in systematic inquiry, interrogating a situation of teaching or learning, usually one presenting some puzzle, to construct an understanding of some aspect of it. Such an act looks both backwards and to the future. It is in service of understanding and meaning that will shape action. It involves gathering and documenting evidence of the inquiry. It likely involves narrative for it is the story of meaning, and it can raise ethical issues for the people involved.
We return to Aiden’s story of Dewarn with this definition of reflective inquiry in mind to explore the possible intersections, overlaps, and tensions between narrative inquiry and reflective inquiry. We consider each form of inquiry in terms of situation, method, the place of unexpectedness, and perspective.
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Situation Narrative inquiry and reflective inquiry define situation slightly differently. Reflective inquiry usually focuses on a particular situation set within a particular context, such as teaching and learning. In Aiden’s story of Dewarn, this might be Aiden being challenged by a student about the relevance of learning the atomic model. If we imagine an inquiry soon after this event, it might involve focusing on how Aiden designed his lesson plan and the broader unit. It would certainly ask hard questions about what Aiden might possibly do next in this classroom and what he might do in future classrooms to avoid it. Perhaps it might consider how Aiden framed this situation, focusing on “the problem of a problematic situation” (Schön 1995) to offer Aiden the opportunity to see his thought in the situation. As we showed in the previous section, narrative inquiry takes Aiden’s story as the situation, one filled with multiple and shifting situations. It pays attention to the many places and times visited in the unfolding story and, as such, is focused less on the understanding one can draw from any particular situation than from the many situations that make up a life. Narrative inquiry understands any situation as nested within an almost endless array of other situations and, rather than sort them out, seeks to understand and explore the layers of complexity involved in living a life. We believe reflective inquiry and narrative inquiry take a different view of the situation, with reflective inquiry focusing in on a particular situation as a means to further understanding and action, and narrative inquiry focusing out from any situation to further understand how it might be woven into a life. We return to Aiden’s story to further distinguish between how narrative inquiry and reflective inquiry define a situation by focusing on the lines of inquiry each might take up in respect to Aiden’s story. By focusing on the situation as one event within a larger narrative, reflective inquiry might ask Aiden to consider how he might handle his confrontation with Dewarn differently in the future, probing for alternative ways he might think about it and his own teaching, particularly those that incorporate how his students might experience it. In narrative inquiry, the framing of Aiden’s entire story as the situation opens up questions of what lies at the edges of this framing, or the stories of experience that stand at the edges of this one, that may lead up to, and out of, this story. Possible lines of inquiry might include asking Aiden about his other tellings of this same story, what the tape means to him and why he has, as of yet, not watched it and how this story might shift or shape other ones, such as his story of leaving teaching and becoming an educational researcher.
Method Reflective inquiry both builds on and aims to foster Dewey’s notion of reflective thinking articulated in How We Think (1910). In this work Dewey lays out how he thinks we should think in order to best learn from experience. His conception draws heavily on the scientific method, which he believed served as the best model for learning from experience. Yet Dewey was well aware of the problems associated with transporting the scientific method into the uncontrollable uncertainty of everyday life, what Donald Schön (1992, 1995) referred to as the “swamp” of practice. Yet, even as the uncertain messiness of life is acknowledged, reflective inquiry takes a more instrumental path to build on Dewey’s notion of the scientific method as an archetype for thinking through the problems encountered in the living of a life. As we showed in the previous section, narrative inquiry takes a more aesthetic path following Dewey (Jackson 1998; Granger 2006). The purpose of method for both reflective inquiry and narrative inquiry is to gain a better understanding of how to proceed. However, in reflective inquiry, the method or path to understanding starts in a puzzling around concrete
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situations with an intention that this will lead to change in the understanding of a situation. In narrative inquiry, the starting point is an attempt to understand an unfolding life in all of its temporal, social, cultural, and contextual complexity as a means to better understand concrete situations. In part, then the difference is in the starting point for the inquiry. From these starting points, the two forms of inquiry set off in pursuit of very different, if not antagonistic, ends. In reflective inquiry, a story might be sacrificed for the evidence it might contain about a particular situation, while in narrative inquiry, the story remains, serving as a starting point for exploring the many other stories that live in and around it and make up a life. The difference here lies in the part stories play in the living out of a life. In reflective inquiry, the story is a resource for thinking while in narrative inquiry, the story is the way we live, tell and inquire into our lives. Applying this distinction between narrative and reflective inquiry to Aiden’s story opens up different lines of inquiry. A more reflective inquiry into Aiden’s story might seek more concrete evidence to corroborate his story, such as viewing the videotape or seeing the lesson plan. The line of inquiry would cross the line of the story in the sense of dismantling it with, and for, a more scientific or instrumental form of thinking. It would become a form of evidence to be interrogated like any other. Narrative inquiry would do quite the opposite, honoring the story by inquiring into the stories that live on its edges as a means to better understand the stories that Aiden lives and tells in composing his life. This might mean asking Aiden to tell other stories that have influenced his ideas about teaching, learning, and curriculum.
The Place of Unexpectedness Dewey’s early writings on the role of reflective thinking in experience can be thought of as a field manual for how to deal with unexpectedness, a guide on how to best make our way through the inevitable “surprises” (Schön 1983) that greet us as we try to get on in the world. For Dewey, reflection involved learning to detect, dispatch of, and come to expect unexpectedness, as reflective thought best helped us out of and ironically then back into problematic or puzzling situations. As Carol Rodgers notes: The process of reflection, Dewey claims (1916/1944), moves the learner from a disturbing state of perplexity (also referred to by him as disequilibrium) to a harmonious state of settledness (equilibrium). Perplexity is created when an individual encounters a situation whose “full character is not yet determined” (Rodgers 2002).
Dewey considered living in the world to be living in a “series of situations,” many harboring enough unexpectedness to produce perplexity and uncertainty. As noted earlier, Dewey believed education to be the process of putting unexpectedness to work for, and ultimately on, us, harnessing it to foster growth and thereby deepen and direct future experience. Through reflective thought we bring an order to the situation and ourselves, banishing unexpectedness into the future to be met again and again. The “swamp” of practice is momentarily drained, allowing us to stand on the firm ground reflective inquiry yields before the water begins to rise and the ground begins to give way again. As Donald Schön reminds us so well, we can never defeat uncertainty so much as push it in a favorable direction: …what John Dewey called inquiry: thought intertwined with action – reflection in and on action – which proceeds from doubt to the resolution of doubt, to the generation of new doubt. The inquirer is in, and in transaction with, the problematic situation. He or she must construct the meaning and frame the problem of the situation, thereby setting the stage for problem-solving, which, in combination with changes in the external context, brings a new problematic situation into being. Hence the proper test of a round of inquiry is not only “Have I solved this problem?” but “Do I like the new problems I have created?” (Schön 1995)
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Inquiry is a sort of Sisyphean task with an important twist: the experiential boulder we push up and to some degree out of doubt rolls down yet another unexpected slope, ending up in another swamp of uncertainty, another problematic situation, waiting to be pushed up, out and into another one. As mentioned earlier, reflective inquiry focuses in on a particularly problematic situation, aiming to better frame, understand, and to some degree solve a particular problem, while simultaneously honing our more generic ability to solve problems. The translation of what is learned from solving any particular problem into a more generic “this is how to solve problems” form is crucial here, as learning means our boulders should never roll back down the same hill but rather down new ones that we cannot see until it is too late. Again, as our metaphorical boulder goes careening down into yet another unexpected and unexplored swamp of uncertainty, we are left to consider just what went awry, sifting through our previous efforts to figure out what to leave, what to take, and what we must improvise, or make, to move this boulder “onward,” which less means forward than in a favorable direction out of this situation, toward growth. In narrative inquiry, unexpectedness takes on a slightly different meaning, as situations are understood less as occurring in a series but rather in parallel, or alongside many other situations. For narrative inquirers, the situation “not yet fully determined” is life as it is lived, replete with situations nested, tangled up in and woven into the complexities of the lives of many others. To inquire narratively is to focus on experience as stories lived and told with an understanding that uncertainty lives in and between the situations or lived and told stories. Concretely this means focusing out from any one situation to see peripherally the many situations that compose a life (Bateson 1994). The process of looking across the many stories that compose a life fosters its own form of unexpectedness, one brought on by seeing not only how we have gone about composing a life, but also how we might now go about composing it differently. In narrative inquiry, unexpectedness also lives in, and through, the unfolding relationship between researchers and participants. Living one’s life in the midst of others’ lives opens us up to the possibilities of what this experience will call forth and lead into. This unexpectedness is not only expected in narrative inquiry but also one of its goals, as inquiring narratively with others opens up the possibility for growth, by which we mean coming to tell and live what at least seem, in the moment, to be better stories. While both narrative inquiry and reflective inquiry harness unexpectedness in the service of understanding, they go about this slightly differently. For reflective inquiry, the unit of analysis is an unexpected and puzzling situation within a certain context, the systematic interrogation of which can yield understandings that inform both a specific course of action and our more generic ability to inquire. For narrative inquirers, any one situation or lived story is understood as a part of many others, as situated within an unfolding life. Unexpectedness lies in the process of inquiry, as it opens up the possibility of seeing, telling, and living our stories differently. Returning to Aiden’s story we understand narrative inquiry and reflective inquiry to focus on two different places of unexpectedness. For reflective inquiry, the unexpectedness occurs in the story, which is, in part, about an unexpected or problematic moment early in Aiden’s teaching career. The story might be viewed as a “case” with which to teach beginning teachers, an example of the bumps and surprises that can occur in a classroom with the intention of helping them learn how to anticipate and solve the surprises that will inevitably occur in their classrooms. In a narrative inquiry, the unexpectedness occurs in the telling, which might mean encouraging new teachers to attend to their own stories of experience that Aiden’s story calls forth and opens up for inquiry. Not to foreshadow too much of what is to come, but this is indeed what Jean does by telling a story about a student she has not thought about for many years, a story that returns to her unexpectedly, “catching” her while in the midst of attending to Aiden’s story.
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Perspective It is difficult to think of reflection and not think of a mirror, as Dewey, much like Marx’s (1964) concept of labor, considered experience an opportunity to contemplate, through our actions and the world’s reactions, ourselves in the world. One might consider Dewey’s notion of reflective thinking a method for refining this mirror, making it more capable of continuously remaking the connections between means and ends. The better our ability to reflect, the more able we are to make the connections between before and after, self and world, that enable us to deepen and ultimately direct future experience. We are cautious in our metaphor of thinking as a mirror, as it does not adequately reflect Dewey’s idea that we live in both a world and the world. We always live in our world, living in the midst of a life that won’t sit still, one always still unfolding. Experience is just that, the schlepping of our world in the world, a trying or doing that can lead to unexpected outcomes, including a very trying undoing of aspects of our world. Dewey understood this as life itself, an inescapable and often hard fact of experience but yet the harbinger of growth, something to be welcomed and worked with rather than avoided. These Deweyan ideas, up to this point, underpin both narrative inquiry and reflective inquiry. However, playing further with the metaphor of a mirror, we turn to a poetic rendition of a shattered mirror: All Faith is false, all Faith is true: Truth is the shattered mirror strown In myriad bits; while each believe His little bit the whole to own (The Kasidah of Haji Abdu El-Yezdi, “translated” by Richard Burton, 1880 and as quoted in Appiah 2006).
We played with the idea of a shattered mirror that, for us, could be an uncertain situation within both narrative inquiry and reflective inquiry in order to show tensions and overlaps between what we see as perspective in both reflective inquiry and narrative inquiry. In reflective inquiry, there is a process of trying to frame a problem in order to move through the uncertain situation. Knowing that the metaphoric “myriad bits” of the “shattered mirror” can be reassembled in multiple ways, the challenge is to carefully attend to this multiplicity of ways. Reassembled in one way the mirror allows one path forward, reassembled in another offers another way and so on. The process, though, is one of reassembling the bits in order to generate new understandings meant to guide action toward the resolution of the problematic situation, at least for the moment. In narrative inquiry, there is more attention to the pattern in which the mirror has shattered, seeing the “myriad bits” as a life, as stories lived and told by a person in particular times and places. While there is also uncertainty in this moment, in narrative inquiry, we do not intend to reassemble the bits but rather to enter the strewn bits of a person’s life in the midst and in relational ways, attending to what is possible in understanding the temporal, social, and place dimensions within an ongoing life. Attending to the multiplicity of what becomes visible in the unfolding life, the narrative inquirer attends to the particularities of each “bit” or shard in order to compose multiple possible story retellings or ways to move forward in imaginative and narratively coherent ways. A tension lives between reflective inquiry and narrative inquiry in how the “strewn” bits of mirror are understood and in the ways multiple alternative perspectives are understood (as multiple possible problem framings or as multiple possible retellings and relivings) as both lead toward action. To us, reflective inquiry keeps one eye on the problematic situation while training the other on possible solutions, giving its perspective a certain direction, one oriented towards action and resolution. In terms of Aiden’s story, this means finding
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and framing the problematic situation and then charting a careful and considered course toward a possible solution. By contrast, narrative inquiry focuses one eye on stories lived and told and the other on the stories and lives that live at their edges, creating an orientation that can feel more dizzying than directional, more a muddling around in the myriad of stories that compose a life than making any situation in it clearer with the goal of moving it along. In Aiden’s story, this would chart a course toward the inclusion of other stories rather than the solution of the perceived problem in this particular story, to better understand where this story, bit or shard, stands in relation to the many others that compose his life. We see this metaphorical muddling as generative, and, as we will now show, narrative inquiry often involves a muddling up of a situation or story with the telling of another one.
Unfolding of the Narrative Inquiry In Jean’s listening to Aiden’s story as a narrative inquirer, she listened first to his story, moving imaginatively to what it must have been like for him as a beginning teacher, to what he was experiencing at the moment. She also listened carefully to how he told the story, attending carefully to the plotline he composed, to how he positioned himself in time, in place, to his feelings, his moral sensibilities, the aesthetic sense in the lived moment. But as many authors have noted, when we listen to stories as narrative inquirers, stories are called forth from the stories of the listeners. This process of calling or catching threads from the teller’s story is, as Hoffman notes, a process of resonant remembering. Hoffman (1994) describes resonant remembering as “the kind of palpable precise, personal memory in which the emotional meanings of events is recognized, for subjective thought, and for the probing of survivors’ own internal journeys.” We take Hoffman’s idea of resonant remembering, of remembering what happened within each person, and wonder about how we catch resonant threads as we listen to another’s story that call up our own internal journeys. As memory “responds more than it records” (De Certeau 1984), resonant remembering can, we see, be triggered by others’ stories. As Jean worked with the retelling of Aiden’s story, she was caught by a story from her own experience, not a story which resonated from her student teaching but an encounter from her first year as a full-time teacher in the late 1960s. The experience of moving imaginatively with Aiden calls forth a story in Jean, one she has not thought about for years. It is there, always, as its remembering involves a form of forgetting, one in which a memory is not lost forever but rather lived out in who she is. As she and Aiden inquired into his story, she began to tell, and later wrote, the following story. Thorpe, a slightly overweight nine-year-old boy, was in my Grade Four classroom, a classroom situated in a “portable” classroom, one of several hauled into the parking lot of this overcrowded suburban school. Alongside the portable where I came to know Thorpe were two other portables with classes taught by two other beginning teachers. Thorpe had already made a significant impact on the story of the classroom by that late September afternoon when I sat alone at my desk, working on plans for the next day’s class. The door opened and a big burly man came in and took a seat at the back. He said gruffly, “Oh, they gave him to you, a beginning teacher and a woman. How are you doing?” I, startled at his presence, said, “Pardon me, can I help you?” He responded gruffly, “Thorpe. I’m the assistant principal at the neighboring school and I taught him last year. Are you having trouble with him? Do you want to know what I did?” I remembered the surprise I felt at the intrusion but responded, “Okay. What did you do?” I recalled the hesitance I felt for I had not told anyone but my husband that I was having trouble with a student. He said, “ I tied a rope around his neck and whenever he wasn’t
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paying attention, I tugged it. You might try that. I also kept chalk at my desk and when I wanted his attention, I lobbed a piece at him. That won’t work for you because you probably can’t throw very well.” I said, “well I don’t think I will try that but thanks for telling me”. The visitor stood abruptly and said, “Well, call me if you want some help.” I never called but the moment continues to live with me. That moment was the moment Jean recalled as she and Aiden worked to retell Aiden’s story. It had been several years since she consciously remembered Thorpe but the moment of meeting the vice principal came flooding back as she read of Aiden’s encounter with Dewarn. The moment with the vice principal was a moment that made Jean think about teaching, learning, and curriculum making, about what mattered to her. Thorpe is always there, first as Jean worked that year to make a relationship with Thorpe, a relationship where they could learn together and where he might learn to see himself as a member of a classroom community, not as someone who did not belong in a classroom, something he had learned from the vice principal. During the long fall term, Jean recounted that she worked to compose a relationship with Thorpe, calling on the other two new teachers to take Thorpe to their rooms when she could no longer see Thorpe as other than an aggravation and felt her frustration rising. She created spaces where they could talk, she chose books she thought he might like, she gave him responsibilities and slowly, slowly, slowly, he began to live and tell another story of himself as a child in school. And Jean continued to imagine how to live and tell a story of her as a teacher who attended to children’s lives.
Retelling the Story Working within the three-dimensional narrative inquiry space, we saw that Jean began to tell her story working with, and in, Aiden’s story, an experience that called forth her story of a student she had not thought of for years. Jean slid back in time to her first year of teaching in a portable classroom outside of an overcrowded school to a particular moment about a month into the school year. Sitting at her desk after school she was visited by the vice principal from Thorpe’s previous school, who had come to offer her advice on how to deal with him. Jean learned that Thorpe, the student she is struggling with, had a rope put around his neck and chalk thrown at him by this man, who not so subtly questioned whether Jean, a beginning female teacher, could control Thorpe. Jean then slid forward to the present to lay her story of Thorpe alongside Aiden’s story of Dewarn, as that moment with the vice principal had, in the moment of living, made her consider what mattered to her as a teacher. As Jean laid her story alongside Aiden’s, she then returned to her first year of teaching to tell of her efforts to develop a relationship with Thorpe in which Thorpe could come to see himself as a member of the classroom community. Jean developed strategies to prevent herself from seeing Thorpe as the vice principal did, strategies which included sending him to another beginning teacher’s portable when she could no longer see Thorpe as a child. Jean worked hard with Thorpe, and his small progress in terms of coming to see himself as a member of the school community fed Jean’s imaginings of herself as a teacher who attended to children’s lives. Thorpe’s slow transformation showed Jean the difference she made in a student, which in turn fueled her imagination as to how to better attend to students’ lives. Jean’s temporal and spatial movement back and forth from the present to a long ago past weaves her story of Thorpe into Aiden’s story of Dewarn. Jean’s temporal coming and going from the present situation transforms it into something else, something less bounded and quite quickly multiplying in time, social and the place. Her telling continues the unhinging of place and time, opening up the possibility for a new story to be told about an old one.
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Jean’s telling of her story in response to Aiden’s story binds them together much like a book. The possible threads attaching them remain to be discovered, making the point of Jean’s telling of this story a retrospective endeavor. Laying these stories side by side allows for further narrative inquiry into their resonances. As these stories were told during Jean and Aiden’s conversations about the relationship between narrative inquiry and reflective inquiry, they already resonated in and through their place in an ongoing dialogue, as Aiden’s story of Dewarn emerged from Jean’s story from an ongoing research project and, in turn, prompted Jean’s story of Thorpe. Jean’s notion that while working with Aiden’s story of Dewarn she was “caught” by the story of Thorpe is powerful and quite apt to the way these stories emerged, as we less fished them from our memories than they caught us in a moment that reminded us of other moments, ones which had not faded with time and appear to us as vivid as if they happened yesterday.
The End Game Schön’s (1992) concept of generative muddiness is, perhaps, a way to think about the end game, Dewey’s end in view for both narrative inquiry and reflective inquiry. Both forms of inquiry are pointed into the future, toward future action, and both carry within a sense of movement or action. For both narrative inquiry and reflective inquiry, there is a living out in further action. Thus, temporality and action are central to both forms. However, as we sift through the uncertainty, Schön’s (1992) muddy messiness, some distinctions become clearer. In narrative inquiry, there is no certainty in what future stories will be lived and told, even in the near future. There is no plan that can be implemented in action. People, places, other events, emotions, moral judgments, and aesthetic responses continually shift and change the array of possible plotlines open to each person. As narrative inquirers we can map out possible plotlines, hint at that array of possibilities but all we can say is that this is how, inquirers and participants, are living and telling the stories for now. We follow one possible trajectory and move forward into other possible uncertainties. Our research texts point to an array of possibilities. In reflective inquiry, there is also uncertainty but, perhaps, reflective inquiry, with the movement from problem framing through to problem resolution and action, has, at least momentarily, a clearer sense of certainty. There, too, however, as action is taken, new situations open themselves to new tensions, new problems and the inquiry process opens again. We understand the goal of reflective inquiry as standing, if only temporarily, on the firmer ground yielded by thinking about a perplexing situation in a disciplined manner. By contrast, we see narrative inquiry as a muddle through the much more spongy terrain of experience, one which pulls us in, gets us muddy and shows our tracks. In reflective inquiry, there is the possibility, at least for a time, of standing on the solid ground of certainty, whereas in narrative inquiry, we find that we continue to compose our inquiries and lives within spongy uncertain ground. We stay, we might say, within the peaty spaces of possibility. We now turn back to Dewey to better understand the commonplaces and tensions in the end games of narrative inquiry and reflective inquiry. Specifically we draw attention to Dewey’s (1916) emphasis on the future-oriented and tentative nature of thinking: “to consider the bearing of the occurrence upon what may be, but is not yet, is to think.” Dewey’s italicization of the word “bearing” signals to us his desire for readers to pay close attention to what he might mean by this word. For us, his use of the word “bearing” opens up the possibility of understanding thinking as simultaneously both an instrumental and artistic endeavor. On the one hand, “bearing” signals an act of taking stock of our current position or situation, our “here” in relation to a hoped for “there,” and charting a new course or direction towards it. On the other hand, “bearing” points to the fruit borne in the process, which one might consider an artfully composed life, one that coheres in and
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around the possibilities that open up in a constant state of becoming. If we imagine these two takes on the word “bearing” as two hands on a clock, we might see the more directional and instrumental take as being the minute hand, one in constant movement in and through the situations that make up our lives. The more artistic take on “bearing” might more resemble the hour hand, one that is moved by and composed of many minutes. While the little hand moves through situations, the big hand moves situations into a life, weaving them into stories of who we are and still might become. For us, this is what we take Dewey to mean by “bearing”, the double movement of pushing uncertainty and incompleteness in a favorable direction while artfully moving toward the composing of a narratively coherent life. Thus for Dewey, the necessary incompleteness (Greene 1995) of life makes thinking a prospective endeavor, one that looks back into the past to look forward in the future: For we live not in a settled and finished world, but in one which is going on, and where our main task is prospective, and where retrospect – and all knowledge as distinct from thought is retrospect- is of value in the solidity, security, and fertility it affords our dealings with the future (Dewey 1916).
For Dewey, the meaning of any event always remains a little beyond us, in the possible futures “it portends.” This includes the past, which itself remains undetermined and to a certain extent unmoored, as it too awaits the meanings afforded it by the emerging vantage points of ongoing experience. Much like the two protagonists in Samuel Beckett’s play Waiting for Godot, our past is always somewhat provisional, always waiting for the closure that will never come, yet in the meantime getting on as best it can. Yet, much like Godot, the future is not a complete stranger to us, as getting on in the world entails imagining worlds that have not yet been but yet might be, worlds our concerted actions aim to bring into being. The past and future are, as Lissa Malkki (2000) argues, “only different chapters of the same narrative story, informing and justifying one another.” What brings them together into a temporal whole is our ability to narratively imagine our lives from many different temporal vantage points. While Dewey does not think of experience narratively, he does emphasize that human time is fluid, as we travel prospectively into possible futures and retrospectively back into possible pasts. The reconstruction of experience involves the reconsideration of not only what happened but also a concurrent reconsideration of what might yet happen, all set within situations that are still happening. As we have yet to find a way off of the ever-shifting and peaty grounds of human experience, we, as narrative inquirers, look for a different sort of terra firma, one much more provisional, prospective, and tentative. We play with Bruner’s (2002) notion of narrative as subjuntivizing experience as a way to think about the end game of narrative inquiry: Through narrative, we construct, reconstruct, and in some ways reinvent yesterday and tomorrow. Memory and imagination fuse in the process. Even when we create the possible worlds of fiction, we do not desert the familiar but subjuntivize it into what might have been and what might be. The human mind, however cultivated its memory or refined its recording systems, can never fully and faithfully recapture the past, but neither can it escape it. Memory and imagination supply and consume each other’s wares.
We would add that for us this is true not only of fiction but also of human experience, as stories lived and told, which is always in the midst of an unfolding life. Narrative inquirers less try to drain the “swamp” of experience though a systematic analysis of particular aspects of situations than try to make its muddiness, if anything, even more generative in the sense of opening up possibilities for it to be otherwise, for different stories to be lived and told.
Conclusion as Invitation We hope the story of our journey through the intersections, overlaps and tensions between narrative inquiry and reflective inquiry will be, in some way, as generative for readers as the journey has been for us. We leave it here, for now, knowing that we have neither fully
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traversed nor definitively mapped the common and uncommon grounds of these two forms of inquiry. Indeed, we may have, with our stories and metaphors, made the grounds more muddled than demarcated. Our inability to draw sharp distinctions or boundaries is less an unintended shortcoming than an intentional stopping short, as, for us, going further would begin to feel like draining the metaphoric swamp of our experience of what it holds best – possibility. As we reflect on our journey, we now see the terrain we trudged, and particularly places we bogged down, not as the way but rather one way of traversing the intersections, overlaps, and tensions between narrative inquiry and reflective inquiry. We understand the product of this wandering as less a map than a story, one meant to invite others in to these wonders.
Epilogue Our stories in their retellings and reliving continue, as we continue to narratively inquire into them. As we inquired into Jean’s story, she began to see threads emerging from, and woven into, her ongoing passion for understanding how curriculum can be reimagined as a curriculum of lives, a way of conceptualizing curriculum-making with children’s and teachers’ lives at the heart. But narrative inquiry offers both forward and backward looking stories, backward looking stories that allow Jean to see these interwoven narrative trends, and also forward thinking stories that take up these reimagined shifting stories as ways of living in the world. Without knowing with certainty which of these multiple possible stories might be called forth by new situations, Aiden sees students’ responses as calls for him to live differently in relation to each student, attending more closely to what matters in the space between him and a student.
References Appiah, A. (2006). Cosmopolitanism: Ethics in a world of strangers (1st ed.). New York: W.W. Norton. Bateson, M. C. (1994). Peripheral visions: Learning along the way (1st ed.). New York: HarperCollins. Bruner, J. S. (2002). Making stories: Law, literature, life (1st ed.). New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Clandinin, D. J., & Connelly, F. M. (1990). Stories of experience and narrative inquiry. Educational Researcher, 19(5), 2–14. Clandinin, D. J., & Connelly, F. M. (2000). Narrative inquiry: Experience and story in qualitative research. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. De Certeau, M. (1984). The practice of everyday life. Berkeley: University of California Press. Dewey, J. (1902). The child and the curriculum. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Dewey, J. (1910). How we think. New York, NY: Heath and company. Dewey, J. (1916). Democracy and education: An introduction to the philosophy of education. New York, NY: The Macmillan Company. Dewey, J. (1938). Experience and education. New York, NY: Collier Books, Macmillan. Granger, D. A. (2006). John Dewey, Robert Pirsig, and the art of living: Revisioning aesthetic education (1st ed.). New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Greene, M. (1995). Releasing the imagination: Essays on education, the arts, and social change. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass Publishers. Hoffman, E. (1994, January 23) Let memory speak. The New York Times Book Review, pp. 1–4. Jackson, P. W. (1998). John Dewey and the lessons of art. New York: Yale University Press. Lyons, N. (2002). The personal self in a public story: The portfolio presentation narrative. In N. Lyons & V. K. LaBoskey (Eds.), Narrative inquiry in practice: Advancing the knowledge of teaching. New York, NY: Teachers College Press. Malkki, L. H. (2000). Figures of the future. In D. Holland & J. Lave (Eds.), History in person: Enduring struggles, contentious practice, intimate identities (pp. 325–348). Santa Fe, NM: School of American Research Press.
19â•… Narrative Inquiry as Reflective Practice: Tensions and Possibilities Marx, K. (1964). Economic and philosophic manuscripts of 1844 (1st American ed.). New York: International Publishers. Rodgers, C. (2002). Defining reflection: Another look at John Dewey and reflective thinking. Teachers College Record, 104(4), 842–866. Schön, D. A. (1983). The reflective practitioner: How professionals think in action. New York: Basic Books. Schön, D. A. (1992). A theory of inquiry: Dewey’s legacy to education. Curriculum Inquiry, 22(2), 119–139. Schön, D. A. (1995). The new scholarship requires a new epistemology. Change, 27(6), 27–34.
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Chapter 20
Reflection Through Collaborative Action Research and Inquiry J. Loughran
Introduction Any examination of reflection or reflective practice in the research literature over the last 100 years will inevitably lead back to the foundational work of John Dewey. In tracing his original work from the early 1900s through what can at times be a long and circuitous route (see for example the pathway from Bode (1940) through Rugg (1947) to Borrowman (1956), Hullfish and Smith (1961) in the Western literature1), one eventually arrives at the work of Donald Schön in the mid 1980s. The work of Dewey and Schön stand out because of the crucial roles both played in helping reflection to be understood in ways that pushed beyond an everyday view of reflection as simply thinking about a situation or reconsidering one’s actions, to a more sophisticated conceptualization based on reflection as a specialized form of thinking revolving around a particular problem at hand: Reflective thinking, in distinction from other operations to which we apply the name of thought, involves (1) a state of doubt, hesitation, perplexity, mental difficulty, in which thinking originates, and (2) an act of searching, hunting, inquiring to find material that will resolve the doubt, settle and dispose of the perplexity (Dewey 1933).
As Dewey made clear, a “problem” is not something that should be regarded with negative connotations. The notion of a problem as puzzling, curious, inviting and engaging is central to reflection carrying understandings of purpose that go beyond the quest for improvement alone. As opposed to everyday views of a problem being related to a mistake or an error – something that needs to be “fixed” – in regard to reflection and reflective practice, a problem is something that attracts attention and invites further consideration. Recognizing the nature of a problem becomes all the more important when considered in relation to the development of reflective practice because practitioners tend to dwell on those things that “did not work” or “did not work as expected” in practice situations leading to a position whereby:
J. Loughran Faculty of Education, Monash University, Melbourne, VIC, Australia e-mail:
[email protected] Interestingly, a similar pathway exists in the literature that emanates from the East that goes from Vygotsky (1983, original 1931 but first published in 1960) to Leontyev (1983, first published in 1944) and Davydov (1972) and finishes with work by Lefebvre (2003, first published in 1967) who like Schön considered the importance of seeing things from different perspectives.
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J. Loughran much of the reported literature on problems of practice represent reflection on situations that were less successful than anticipated, perhaps to the detriment of the value of learning from those aspects of practice that were successful. It seems reasonable to suggest then that with a shift in emphasis of problem to a more holistic view of a given situation, perhaps a practitioner might reflect on why a particular procedure, strategy or approach encouraged engagement and purposeful learning and then abstract such learning to practice generally; as opposed to being “overly concerned” with discrete elements that “did not work as well as anticipated”. The difference in the nature of the conceptualization of the problem invites different ways of reflecting on the situation, i.e., the manner in which the situation is reframed influences not only what is “seen” but what might be envisaged in terms of response (Loughran 2006, p. 45).
Chak (2006), in her consideration of reflective practice, notes the importance of “allowing problems to surface”. Such a perspective suggests that practitioners who allow that which is curious, puzzling or engaging to be apprehended in their practice, are more likely than not to be moving beyond the negative connotations associated with commonplace descriptions of “problem”. In many ways then, this conceptualization of a problem is central to that which practitioners might be sensitive to noticing in their practice. Mason (2002) captured the essence of this idea when considering noticing in relation to teachers as reflective practitioners: Every act of teaching depends on noticing: noticing what children are doing, how they respond, evaluating what is being said or done against expectations and criteria, and considering what might be said or done next. It is almost too obvious to say that what you do not notice, you cannot act upon; you cannot choose to act if you do not notice an opportunity. … Noticing requires sensitivity. I cannot notice that some students are bored if my attention is focused on my own nervousness or insecurity. I need to become aware of the ebb and flow of energy in the classroom (and each class is different in this respect) (pp. 7–8).
As Mason suggests, if something is not noticed, it is unlikely that a practitioner will do anything to address the situation. If, in the practice setting, a problem is the something that goes unnoticed, then it is difficult to understand how reflection might be initiated. Clearly then, that which is noticed, how and why, is important in shaping the nature of reflective practice and, by extension, the response(s) that might follow from reflecting on the situation. Therefore, being able to see situations in different ways is important not only in terms of the nature of the problems able to be noticed, but also in terms of the alternative perspectives able to be developed and used to inform judgments in practice. It is this aspect of reflection, which Schön (1983) described through the constructs of framing and reframing, that new insights into the nature of reflective practice emerge. The concepts of framing and reframing are largely about how alternative perspectives are able to be developed through engaging in the process of reflection. Thus, seeing the same event from different perspectives is the essence of framing and reframing and, as a key to reflection, is enmeshed in the ability to distance oneself from the situation in order to look into it with different eyes (Brookfield 1995). The importance of reframing is that it is not about rationalizing or justifying particular actions in the practice setting, but about seeing alternatives because, in so doing, apprehending alternative perspectives offers insights into how and why a situation might be perceived in a particular way (Loughran 2002). By seeing alternative perspectives on situations, new possibilities for action emerge that lead to more informed understandings of the practice setting. The ideas briefly outlined above are much easier to describe than to do in the crucible of action and so ways of initiating reflection are important if the concept is to move from the abstract to the concrete. So what might help to facilitate such a shift? Collaboration is one helpful response. The use of the term reflection, for some, can inadvertently conjure up a picture of the individual, self-immersed and alone, contemplating a particular situation or event. However, moving beyond the self can be catalysed if reflection is conceptualized as a collaborative process (Baird 1992) in which problem recognition, framing and reframing can be developed and enhanced through the involvement of a trusted, valued other, i.e., a colleague
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as a critical friend (Costa and Kallick 1993). If the use of a critical friend(s) also involves an inquiry approach (e.g., action research/inquiry), then reflective practice can genuinely be described as moving beyond the individual’s thoughts and feelings and into the realm of research informed practice. This chapter builds on these ideas as it explores the published research literature of reflection (using problem, framing and reframing as a guide to the nature of reflection) in professional practice that is based on collaboration and action research/inquiry. In so doing, analysis of such literature might begin to highlight some of learning outcomes derived when a focus on reflection/reflective practice is at the heart of collaborative inquiry.
Collaboration and Inquiry As noted above, studies of reflective practice that have been reported as collaborative and based on an action research or inquiry approach to learning were the filters through which this review has been organized. Across that literature using these descriptors (reflection, collaboration, action research/inquiry) generally, there are a number of publications, however, few of those publications categorically state the definition or approach to reflection used and/or applied in analysis. What becomes quickly apparent in reading the literature is that reflection is not always defined in a way that might help the reader understand the particular view of reflection being employed in a given study. However, one study that stands out as offering a clear definition of reflection and a framework for analysis is that by Barnett and O’Mahony (2006), who were concerned with issues around the development of a culture of reflection and how it might impact school improvement. Barnett and O’Mahony (2006) considered reflection in terms not dissimilar to the brief history outlined earlier in this chapter and they established a model for reflection adapted from Kolb’s (1984) model of experiential learning. They suggested that the development of a reflective culture was important in influencing student learning and outlined how it might apply to such things as student portfolios because: “as they prepare portfolios, students engage in learning (What?); considering their thoughts, feelings, and changes (So what?); and determining future goals (Now what?)” (p. 504, italics in original), as well as other activities such as student self-assessments and conflict resolution. In building on these ideas, they illustrated how the development of a reflective culture within a school might occur if a serious focus on teaching and learning was employed; an important outcome being that of increased student performance. Barnett and O’Mahoney placed a great deal of emphasis on reflection as a collaborative task as they saw reflection as a powerful way of attracting attention to the nature of the problems that might be considered and the ways in which situations might be framed and reframed to enhance understandings of teaching, learning and change. They concluded that: … research findings reinforce our core message: When individual and collective reflection on student learning becomes part of the culture, meaningful school improvement occurs. Despite the continual press for accountability and immediate results, school leaders and teachers who infuse reflection throughout the school are establishing the cultural conditions for school improvement that can increase student performance. (p. 519)
In a similar vein to the issue of defining reflection, so too notions of action research/ inquiry also appear to hinge more on the use of the term(s) rather than an explicit basis for which the form of inquiry is categorized. However, Wharton (2007) offered a strong theoretical and practical base for her use of action research drawing on Somekh (2006) and Carr and Kemmis (1986) to frame her work in which she analysed reports of collaborative action research. An interesting outcome of Whaton’s analysis of a range of action research projects is encapsulated in her conclusion that:
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This issue about the nature of research, and the place that teacher-research might (should) have in the educational landscape is one that is often closely tied to studies of reflection. An action research approach is one that is perhaps sometimes confused in some quarters of educational research because it is portrayed as only being a form of professional develoÂ� pment rather than leading to conditions for knowledge creation crucial to shaping and informing practice. Yet practitioner reports of action research continually highlight the value of reflection and collaboration in developing deeper understandings of practice. For example, Arthur et€al. (1994) drew attention to collaborative action research as a powerful way of creating conditions that foster a “confidence to share” amongst teachers. Through teachers sharing and discussing their practice, professional autonomy and judgements come to the fore, but depend on “a shared sense of purpose, respect and trust” (p. 9). In so doing, insights into learning about change in relation to classroom practice emerge as a central outcome of collaborative, reflective inquiry.
Classroom Practice Ulmer and Timothy (2001) posited the question that is so often found in the literature as a catalyst for reflective inquiry: “How does teacher reflection affect teaching practices?” Their subsequent inquiry was based on a conception of reflection as the development of self-knowledge and aimed to “examine the changes that occurred in teacher thought and practice as revealed through their reflections. It also address[ed] how teachers carried over their beliefs and practices from their reflections to their classrooms two years later” (p. 4), as they worked with a group of 23 teachers across a variety of subject and grade levels. Their study highlighted how, through reflection, their participants came to recognize what they had learnt and how they had internalized that learning, but, they also noted that change as a consequence of that learning was a slow process; a process that required continual support. Through collaborative approaches to reflection and inquiry, participants: Began to take ownership of their own learning by having a deeper insight into what they know compared to what they think they know. Implementing a new comprehension strategy and/or using it in new ways (instruction and assessment) provides data for reflection and instructional change. However, having the opportunity may not be a sufficient factor for change to occur. Introduction to new concepts and ideas … provides the background information necessary to initiate the process. Ample time to discuss new ideas, develop opinions, and raise questions not only enables teachers to take ownership of new knowledge but it also helps facilitate change. … Teachers must have opportunities to learn about new ideas and practices in a supportive environment where dialogue and reflection are encouraged. (pp. 15–16)
This point about educational change being a slow process is an ongoing theme that is peppered throughout the literature. Hasseler and Collins (1993) developed principles for supporting long-term change in teaching practice based on the power of collaborative reflection. The principles that they established (following a review of the literature) were interrogated through the practical work of the Video Portfolio Project funded by the National Board for Professional Teacher Standards (NBPTS). They found that change in teaching practice occurred when groups of teachers worked together to define the standards for effective practice and supported one another in pursuing those standards. The use of video was seen as a powerful resource as it assisted teachers to reflect on their practice. By viewing vivid accounts that were captured and portrayed through video for analysis, learning possibilities became immediately apparent.
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Hasseler and Collins’ findings were similarly supported by the work of Maclean and White (2007), who also used video reflection (in this case with student teachers and experienced teachers) and noted how such an approach not only shaped participants’ identity formation and ability to talk about their teaching using professional categorizations, but, that there were observed benefits in relation to their “increasing confidence, enthusiasm, and professional learning” (p. 58). In a collaborative study with five classroom teachers, Oakley (2000) created a teacherresearcher group in which she worked as a participant-observer. Through the 5 months of the project, a number of themes emerged that were intertwined in the ways in which they developed an influence on these teachers’ classroom practice. They found that they developed as a Community of Learners through which the Generation of Knowledge was fostered by “trying and testing”. In so doing, there was a shift toward expectations of Teaching for Understanding which led to participants seeing their classrooms differently in terms of the Implications of Teaching for Understanding. Oakley’s study demonstrated that: … schools must do more than merely deliver instruction; schools must ensure that students learn and the students’ learning must be conceptually deep and transferable across time and subject matter. … [Her study made clear that] teachers began to rethink “the way things are done”, increase their focus on student learning … and to think creatively about their classroom practice. (pp. 32–33)
In a study in a Professional Development School (PDS) environment, Gimbert (2000a) similarly found that collaborative reflective practices supported change in student teachers’ and supervising teachers’ thinking and behaviour in relation to classroom practice. Just as Oakley’s teachers confronted the dilemmas of practice, so too Gimbert noted how the “didactic arrangements, and the cultures of teaching” (p. 17) can be challenged and not accepted as just being “the way it is” – or has to be. Again, the development of a learning community was important for creating a forum through which questions, issues, and teaching practice could be explored in collaborative ways to create new possibilities for participants’ professional growth as they: “continuously sought and shared learning, and acted upon their collective reflection” (p. 17). The importance of linking reflection, collaboration, and inquiry continually comes through in the literature as crucial to shaping ways in which changes in practice might not only be initiated, but also sustained. Whether the changes related to practice in terms of such things as assessment (Lengeling 1997; Passman and McKnight 2002), or to practice across different fields such as health professionals (Morris and Stew 2007), studies continually illustrate that change in practice is facilitated through collaborative inquiry and that it “works” because of the perceived value when there is “encourage[ment for] learners to actively reflect on the whole learning process” (Morris and Stew 2007, p. 428); which is a strong motivator for engagement. Christie (2007) offered a way of considering this notion of engagement, or purpose for inquiry when, in working with teachers seeking a “quick fix” and “hands-on experiences” in a professional development program, she embedded reflection in collaborative action research to help them “re-define their own educational mission through the lens of reflective practice, [as a result] the teachers were able to unravel their outer shells, disengage themselves from stereotyped inhibitions, and emerge from a self-imposed malaise into an environment of classroom renewal” (p. 493). Nissilä (2005) described this form of engagement in reflection and collaborative inquiry in terms of the development of personal mastery. In seeking to develop personal mastery, Nissilä argued that teachers learn how to reflect on tacit assumptions, express visions, listen to others, and access different views of current reality (reframing). Park et€al. (2007) and Nissilä had similar views. However, as Park et€al. framed their study in terms of professional development, the issue of mastery through reflection was considered in relation to enhanced teaching practice and standards for performance. Their study suggested that:
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This view of learning through reflective, collaborative inquiry as a way of enhancing professional development is a theme in teaching, which could perhaps be described as growing out of some of the common approaches established through the initial practicum and supervision experiences created for student teachers. Tools for reflection in this case often include journal writing, and some aspects of learning about practice through reflection and inquiry are extended in more formalized ways through mentoring during the initial years of teaching.
Beginning Teaching Journal writing is a common tool used to promote reflection during student teaching. Lee (2007) examined its use with 31 English (as a Foreign Language) student teachers in two groups across two semesters in their methods course. One group used dialogue journals, and the other wrote response journals. Lee implemented the use of journal writing in order to help student teachers begin to reflect on how they might bridge the gap between their imagined views of teaching and the realities of teaching as they were confronted by their expectations and experiences on the practicum. Lee analyzed the journal data by using Jay and Johnson’s (2002) definition of reflection, which revolves around identifying questions and key elements and then seeking to develop alternative or additional perspectives, values, and beliefs, as well as developing an understanding of the larger context influencing the experience. (This definition therefore links to the notions of problem and reframing (as noted earlier); using them as analytic frames for documenting learning from experience.) Lee’s experience of teaching and learning about reflection through the use of journals in this way led her to conclude that: I have discovered the tremendous value of journals in nurturing reflective thinking. Both dialogue and response journals provide pre-service teachers with a reflective tool to make sense of educational theories, while personalising them, applying them, and determining their relevance to educational philosophies and practices. … Whichever type of journal is used, it is crucial to nurture a habit of reflection among pre-service teachers, so that without being asked to, they develop a predilection for reflecting on teaching and learning issues. (pp. 327–329)
In a sophisticated study designed, and as a companion piece to an earlier examination of student teachers’ practicum experiences (Clarke 1995), Clarke (2006) employed a multi phase approach to exploring cooperating teachers’ understanding of practicum supervision. In the first phase, a survey of cooperating teachers was completed (nâ•›=â•›778), designed to construct a profile of the cooperating teachers who supervised his institution’s elementary, middle school, and secondary student teachers. Phase 2 of the project sought to develop an in depth analysis of cooperating teachers’ advisory practices through a stimulated recall approach (incredibly 254 of the 778 teachers volunteered, a small sample of which was later interviewed). The study sought to make sense of how cooperating teachers worked with student teachers in their advisory practices. Analysis focused specifically on Schön’s (1983) notion of framing and reframing as a way of making sense of situations and seeing new possibilities in them. The study therefore set out to identify “how the cooperating teachers framed and reframed aspects of their advisory practice [which] was [therefore] central to this in-depth understanding of their work with student teachers” (p. 913). Clarke’s analysis illustrated that participants were able to frame and reframe situations in which their learning through their advisory practices became important in informing
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their future practice. His results indicated that “interaction between cooperating teachers and their student teachers promoted cooperating teacher reflection” (p. 919). More so, they “brought new perspectives to bear on their work as school-based teacher educators” (p. 920) and the study clearly detailed aspects of the nature and substance of cooperating teacher reflection in ways not previously captured or documented in the literature. Stanulis and Russell (2000) also studied the mentoring of student teachers and their data drew attention to the need for mentors themselves to be supported in their mentoring work because, just as they expected their student teachers to recognize and respond to the need to work to foster a caring learning environment, so too they needed to do the same with their student teachers as they mentored them. Stanulis and Russell developed a theme, “jumping in”, that they described as a touchstone to the trust necessary for the relationship between mentor and student teacher if it was to be productive and meaningful. Through their project, they came to see how “teachers learned that the essence of their mentoring was framed around trust and communication in “jumping in” to teaching” (p. 77) and, that through mutual mentoring, collaboration was central to encouraging student teachers to reflect on their practice (and the same was evident in the work of their mentors). Gimbert (2000b) arrived at a similar conclusion in her study into the mentoring of interns in a PDS context. She found that “novice teachers raise questions about their teaching [because] it is an avenue for collaboratively exploring possible alternatives for professional growth. The multiple classroom members continuously seek and share learning, and act upon their individual and collective reflection” (p. 29). Mentoring is a recurring theme in the literature on teaching and learning to teach. Harrison et€al. (2005a, b) also arrived at the conclusion that supporting mentors in their work was important if reflective practice was to be developed so that ongoing professional learning might be achieved. In fact, they suggested that there was a need for mentor training; something that they considered might assist in developing critical reflective practice. Sillman et€al. (2003), in a longitudinal study that followed a student teacher (Matt) out into his fifth year of teaching, examined how the use of metaphor as a tool for reflection had worked as a positive shaping force in helping him define, explain, and challenge his beliefs about teaching and learning science. The study highlighted the “importance and long-term effects of helping prospective teachers to develop personal tools for meaningful reflection such as metaphor … [because it can be] an effective tool to analyse classroom actions within reflection … [Further to this] while he had used metaphor as a reflective tool, it became more of a teaching tool used within his classroom to help children learn” (p. 12). Across the literature pertaining to school teaching and teacher education, reflective, collaborative action research/inquiry is viewed as positively supporting the development of practitioners’ expertise. A similar situation is also apparent in other practice settings.
Other Practice Settings Just as teachers learn about, and reconsider their practice through reflective processes and collaborative inquiry, so too the same is evident in the field of educational administration. Zigler (1994) highlighted the difficulty that, in training school administrators, participants struggled to connect theory and practice. He explored this issue through a case study approach that examined the development of learning through collaborative reflection in an educational administration preparation program. Like Barnett and O’Mahony (2006), Zigler also used Kolb’s (1984) experiential learning cycle as a basis for reflection because “learning cannot take place without reflection” (p. 6). He demonstrated that through the use of journals, specific questions to be answered and the use of contrived situations, reflection could be fostered. Through the use of group work, participants were trained in feedback, listening skills, paraphrasing, and the use of
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descriptors rather than evaluative terms, to help them work together to build a sense of trust and honest critical reflection amongst the group. Zigler found that many of his participants initially found it difficult to grasp the idea of reflection and how to write about it. However, by the end of their program most developed a view that personal reflection was important and even enjoyed the time devoted to the process. He concluded that the use of collaborative reflection was important in helping educational administrators begin to develop ways of addressing the theory practice issues they faced in learning to be effective administrators. In higher education, there are also examples of reflective collaborative enquiry, where uptake of the processes are linked to the perceived importance in helping to leverage learning (Daudelin and Hall 1997). So much so, that, in line with Boyer’s (1990) conception of the scholarship of teaching, Priest and Sturgess (2005) argued that such scholarship is dependent on reflection (and all the more so through group or collaborative reflection – a theme examined in more detail later in this chapter). Takayama and Wilson (2005) reported on the integration of such practices in second year under graduate courses in microbiology and immunology. Again, the fostering of collaborative communities was highly valued. In this particular case, it was interesting to note that the authors considered that they: … created [their] model to develop a reflective iterative approach to engage students in an inquiry process that is more cognisant of scientific professional practice … [and] is a way of representing more authentic processes with regard to the learning and teaching of scientific inquiry and equally important, a framework for assessment. (p. 112)
An unusual study using higher education as a practice setting for reflective, collaborative inquiry is described by Castle et€al. (1995). As experienced faculty of education professors, they returned as students in a graduate level research methods course and decided to “seize the opportunity to collaborate on a project aimed at investigating [their] own thinking about [themselves] as researchers” (p. 244) because they were concerned to develop deeper understandings of their own learning through the use of reflective collaboration in their own professional development. They concluded that collaboration offered desirable and exciting new ways of working together and that it had long-term effects. Drawing on Schön’s notion of reflection-on-action, they described the development of their new insights as a result of being able to articulate and recognize particular aspects of learning drawn from their own professional development as a consequence of engaging in collaborative reflection and inquiry. Peel and Shortland (2004) similarly captured their learning experiences in their induction into academic life through their studies in a masters in higher education. They noted how “as student teachers engaged simultaneously in teaching and learning, [their] perspective of the classroom environment [was] enriched … Not only were [they] engaged in observing [their] own students … but [they] also observed each other and [their] own teachers (our peers) as they [were] steered through the module learning objectives” (p. 50). Again, Kolb’s (1984) experiential learning cycle was used as a tool for learning from reflection, but interestingly, they found that while reflective writing was helpful, “insights from reflection depended upon being theoretically informed” (p. 55). This became clear to them through extending their learning about peer observation and the value of questioning one another’s interpretations of situations, so much so that they concluded that: … sharing our interpretations of the experience we encountered each other’s individual ‘takes’ and a much broader range of literature, as we were each drawn to different bodies of theoretical explanation. As a result, we were then able to debate how these alternative theories better informed our personal understanding of practice on classroom dynamics. (p. 56)
A further example of learning from experience in higher education is by a group of lecturers from the Psychopedagogy Faculty of the University of Alcala, Spain, who embarked on an action research project with the express purpose of reflecting on their own practice as they attempted to facilitate their students’ reflection and learning (Garcia and Roblin
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2008). They noted that the “process of inquiry, helped [them] to reflect upon the conditions and demands of educational change and innovation, giving [them] the opportunity to question problematize and reconstruct [their] teaching practice” (p. 115). This is a common theme apparent in the learning outcomes of such projects in higher education whereby teaching itself comes to be understood as something much more than the simple delivery of information; there is a new awakening about the superficiality of views of teaching as transmission (see for example, Martin and Double 1998, and the use of peer observation in developing teaching skills in higher education teachers; McHardy and Allan 2000, in developing role-play simulations for building creativity and innovation in Higher Education students). Finally, in a study of service learning in Arts education, Taylor and Ballengee-Morris (2004) went to great pains to explain that the “we” is central to collaborative planning in relation to project development. They suggested that Art Education students needed to experience knowledge through a process of interaction if they were to more fully understand the theories that they studied in class: “The keystone of service learning pedagogy is reflection. … Personal reflection is critical to an individual’s growth within service learning. Through such reflective discourse, plans may be formulated, altered, or changed and, most significantly, old and sometimes damaging ideas and stereotypes may be let go” (p. 9). Taylor and Ballengee-Morris made strong claims for the importance of planning, co-learning, reflection, trust, and hope as major elements of successful collaborative service learning that they regarded as helping to connect students to real-world issues that matter in giving meaning to their lives.
Collaboration as a Means of Promoting Reflection Throughout literature, it is clear that collaboration in regard to reflection is seen as important for extending understandings of practice beyond the individual. The importance of collaboration and moving beyond the individual is enmeshed with the need to develop knowledge of practice in ways that might be captured and communicated for oneself and others. Passman (2002) argued that teacher knowledge is an important outcome of collaborative reflection. His examination of middle level teachers building a learning community through reflective discussions highlighted how, when working together, teachers begin to challenge barriers to change by creating conditions conducive to enhancing their practice. The point of collaboration, as Passman noted in his assertion about the value of “going public”, is that it helps to make participants’ tacit knowledge available for examination and critique because it is places: “that knowledge on the table for examination in the safety of the group context [in which] participants [are] able to abandon the barriers that forced a practice of reaction allowing that practice to become resilient to external forces” (p. 47). This notion of going public is similarly supported by Hughes (2005) who suggested that through the use of dialogue journals (her context being the education of teachers for the post-compulsory sector), potentially offered a model for reflection that could challenge the excessive outcome-based approach to education because they: “challenge privileged literacy practices through problematising ‘the given’ and practising certain uncertainty. Dialogue journals can support this activity through their recognition of the plural or multiple text and in their challenge to institutional norms of reflective writing” (p. 93). This learning through reflective collaboration has also been described by Wallace (1998) as collegiality, which he viewed as central to teacher growth and professional learning. In his study of the Supervision for Growth Program (S4G), teachers worked with a coach for a year in which “coaching emphasized the personal growth and development of the individuals concerned within an open atmosphere of trust” (p. 84). Wallace noted how, although collegiality may hold promise for development and change, “externally imposed
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programs may be difficult to implement because of entrenched practices in schools and classrooms” (p. 96). His results highlighted the importance of professional autonomy and judgement in not only who one works with but also how that work might be pursued. An implication from of his study is that mandating collaboration or collegiality will not in itself lead to professional learning or teacher development and change because collective reflection depends on trust and a recognition of purpose in the development of mutual understanding (De Lawter and Sosin 2000). Lavie (2006) offered an interesting perspective on the notion of collaboration in his study in which he revisited discourses on school-based teacher collaboration. He examined collaboration in respect of the purposes to which it is employed as he outlined five discourses he considered as being used around arguments for teacher collaboration. Put succinctly, a cultural discourses describe teacher collaboration as being embedded in cultural forms that blur the boundaries between personal and professional and stimulate interdependency and collective responsibility. Effectiveness and improvement discourses depict collaboration as a product of cultural management, led by the school’s principal in so-called effective schools. Community discourses embed teacher collaboration in a vision of schools as communities, where contractual models of relationships are transcended in pursuit of more inclusive, humanizing environments. Restructuring discourses elaborate the idea of a “new professional” who is capable of getting involved in collaborative practices with in an ever-learning organization. Finally, critical discourses articulate an approach to teacher collaboration that integrates democratic practices, community participation, and shared reflection on teaching as a social and political praxis. … As I suggest after revisiting the arguments these discourses advance, teacher collaboration initiatives can be trapped by the seductive logic of often ideologically tacit discourses, making collaboration an object of co-optation that can be put at the service of diverse interests of conservation or transformation. (pp. 775–776)
Again, the idea that collaboration for collaboration’s sake will lead to change is something that needs to be questioned. Moreso perhaps when considered in conjunction with reflection and inquiry which, when combined, one would anticipate, would lead to greater questioning of purpose and therefore ultimately, the importance of the need underpinning the drive for such collaboration. However, as McIntyre et€al. (2007) explained, if collaboration is employed through an approach such as Participatory Action Research (PAR), which is distinguished by: “(1) a collective commitment to investigate an issue or problem salient to a particular community; (2) a desire by people themselves to engage in self and collective reflection in order to gain clarity and awareness about the issue under investigation; (3) a joint decision to engage in individual and/or collective action that leads to a useful solution which benefits the people involved; and (4) a recognition that the term “researcher” applies to both local actors and those people who contribute specialized skills, knowledge, and/or resources to the PAR process” (pp. 748–749), then the value of such collaboration can not only be a driver for, but also an outcome of, change. Following on from this, it is also apparent that: Increasingly, technology is becoming an integral part of collaborative learning in educational institutions. One of the major issues within the context of instructional technology is that of interactivity, which is critical to success of the online learning experience. … Online discussion is a powerful tool for the development of critical thinking, collaboration, and reflection and has several benefits to participants in the discussion. This type of group interaction allows for unrestrained, comfortable, and flexible participation … [and] allows participants time for reflection. (Williams et€al. 2001, p. 151)
Williams et€al. used action research for their study into the facilitation of on-line discussion groups because, as experienced action researchers, they understood that practice and knowledge developed one with the other through that approach. They constructed their study with the express purpose to: “describe specific problems, ask questions and seek answers of the other facilitators [an international group of experienced online facilitators], reflect on the responses given, and determine some possible conclusions or develop some insight into how they would do things differently next time” (p. 157). Their findings were interesting as they sought to probe the depths of the problems under consideration in order
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to see beyond the original perspective as they worked to frame and reframe situations and to learn more about the insights available in so doing. Redmon and Burger (2004) also studied online discussions as a way of facilitating reflection, inquiry and collaboration. Their study involved 26 student teachers participating in a semester-long asynchronous reflection group using Web CT discussion tools. Like Dewey, their view of reflection was that it should be part of “the dialogue of professional education [because it] is a way of making sense of theoretical foundations as they apply to lived experiences” (pp. 159–158). Not surprisingly, Redmon and Burger found that student teachers were most reflective immediately following their accepting of full responsibility for classroom teaching during their practicum. This contrasted to earlier in the semester when student teachers taught lessons planned for them by their cooperating teachers at which time their “reflective postings” were more “report like” in nature. Their overall findings support that of much of the other literature reviewed in this chapter, whereby participants found that through rethinking, writing, and/or through collaboration with others, they felt as though they were able to make more sense of situations, make better decisions about practice, and think through different positions in more informed ways. Pushing further into the nature of reflection and inquiry through web support for student teachers, Makinster et€al. (2006) studied three different online approaches to determine how social context affected reflective practice in a secondary science methods course. They randomly assigned their 12 participants to one of three different online settings either: a private journal; an asynchronous discussion forum; or a discussion forum within a web-supported community of teachers. Interestingly, their data suggested that the discussion forum within a web-supported community of teachers was the most effective in influencing the quality of reflection and impacted their learning and their practice. Makinster et€ al. concluded, amongst other things, that collaboration through the websupported community of teachers enhanced the nature of student teachers’ reflection and that moving beyond the individual and into supported and collaborative approaches to reflection and inquiry were crucial to helping student teachers develop meaningful and lasting insights from their practice. And, it is this point about lasting and meaningful insights that matters in understanding the importance of reflective, collaborative inquiry; such insights in many ways are the basis for the development of knowledge about teaching and learning.
Developing Knowledge of Practice Manouchehri (2002), following on from other scholars who had written about reflection (e.g., Grimmett et€ al. 1990; Schön 1987 amongst others) established a project with the specific purpose to “determine the ways in which peer interaction might contribute to developing meaning, action, and reflective analysis related to teaching mathematics … guided by Vygotsky’s view of the importance of learning within the context of social interaction” (p. 716). Data for the case study included reflective journals, teamed observations and follow-up discussion, and peer observations. The two student teachers involved in the study were on their practicum and data were analyzed using Manouchehri’s (2001) reflective discourse model, which distinguished five levels of reflection (Describing, Explaining, Theorizing, Confronting, and Restructuring). From the benchmarks established for each participant through analysis of their early journal entries, initial approaches to teaching and learning and their developing perspectives and knowledge was determined. Working from these data, Manouchehri outlined participants’ “foci of attention” and levels of reflection.
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Analysis of their teamed observations demonstrated that both participants came to problematize teaching, learning, and mathematics content in ways that facilitated the development of their professional knowledge. They also came to problematize instruction and student learning. The study suggested that peer discourse, peer observations, and peer feedback impacted these teachers in ways that shaped the development of their professional knowledge because: … once placed in a situation where the teachers need to explain their choice of pedagogy and practice, greater understanding of the learning and teaching issues may arise. In addition, engagement in collaborative planning and analysis of teaching helps the development of a more sophisticated understanding of the content as well as teaching issues. … The teamed practicum [therefore] has the potential to serve as a useful vehicle for enculturating future teachers to the type of practice that builds upon collegiality, peer feedback, and socialized knowledge. (p. 735)
Attempting to capture and portray knowledge of practice through reflective, collaborative inquiry has perhaps been most successfully demonstrated over time through the use of cases (Lundeberg 1999; Shulman 1992). Cases encourage the development of knowledge of practice through the learning associated with reflecting on, and then writing about, aspects of practice based on examination and exploration of classroom dilemmas (i.e., problematizing practice). They have been used with teachers in teacher education programs (Richert 1991) through to experienced teachers (Mitchell and Mitchell 1997), elementary and secondary science specialists (Loughran and Berry 2006, 2007, 2008), school leaders (Ackerman and Maslin-Ostrowski 1996; Ackerman et€ al. 1996) and leaders of Professional Learning (Berry et€al. 2008). The use of cases as a way of capturing knowledge of practice has been taken up by the Ontario College of Teachers as a way of fostering awareness of the College’s Standards of Practice because the essential elements of cases initiate the need: “To reflect, to enter into a dialogical discussion with self and others and to form a collaborative community” (Goldblatt and Smith 2004, p. 338). In an analysis of the cases developed as a consequence of an organized program of case writing sponsored by the College, Goldblatt and Smith (2004) found seven major themes: the value of working collaboratively; the value of looking at cases; the value of identifying standards through dilemmas in cases; professional renewal; the acquisition of new knowledge and skills; and, the benefits of reflection. The cases on which their analysis was based was further developed as a book, Cases for Teacher Development (Goldblatt and Smith 2005), which makes the whole knowledge creation and documentation process clear and accessible to others. An important outcome of their study was the fact that “Every participant emphasized that his/her educational practice had been enhanced by increased knowledge, thinking and reflecting … [and] actual outcomes beyond personal practice in the classroom [alone] … [there is] a growing realization and trend that understands the importance of rich, qualitative discussion that is meaningful to teachers because practice is the subject …” (pp. 350–351). Clearly, cases are not the only way of capturing and developing knowledge of practice, but in terms of reflective, collaborative action research/inquiry, as Golblatt and Smith demonstrate, for teachers, they certainly work in ways that address some of the shortcomings of more traditional approaches to research and reporting in being able to ‘speak’ to teachers.
Conclusion The task that the editors set for this chapter was to review the literature on reflection that was specifically based on collaboration and involved action research/inquiry. The initial search illustrated that although the terms may well have been used as descriptors by authors, it was not always clear how they were interpreted and applied in the subsequent studies.
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It is perhaps one of the difficulties associated with terms (such as reflection, collaboration, inquiry) that seem to carry such a multitude of meanings/interpretations and so offers a timely reminder of the need to state clearly the conceptual frame or theoretical roots that guide a study so that a reader is well informed about the particular perspective being examined, how and why. The studies reviewed in this chapter were selected because they mostly offered sufficient background, explanation, and analysis to form a judgement about the use of the terms being used. As a consequence, analysis illustrated that there was an overwhelming recognition of the importance to practitioners of working in ways that helped them to move beyond their own views of, and approaches to practice. Across the large majority of the papers reviewed in this chapter, it was readily apparent that in accepting and responding to the challenge of learning more about the nature of the “problem” and actively seeking to “frame and reframe situations”, professional knowledge of practice is developed in ways that, in the first instance, might be deeply personal, but through collaboration, critique and inquiry, become more meaningful and useful to the work of others in similar practice settings. And, although largely dominated by studies into teaching, outcome was also common across other fields of professional practice. Therefore, it would seem reasonable to assert that reflection is enhanced and is more valuable in relation to the development of professional knowledge of practice if employed in ways that are based on collaboration, inquiry, and critique; and this is a good message for all those concerned to foster such practice-based learning in the professions.
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Experiential learning: Experience as the source of learning and development. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall. Lavie, J. M. (2006). Academic discourses on school-based teacher collaboration: Revisiting the arguments. Educational Administration Quarterly, 42(5), 773–805. Lee, I. (2007). Preparing pre-service English teachers for reflective practice. ELT Journal, 61(4), 321–329. Lefebvre, V. A. (2003). The structure of awareness in reflexion. Cogito-centre (in Russian): Moscow. Lengeling, L. J. K. (1997). Group reflection: Student generated authentic assessment. School Arts, 96(8), 46–47. Leontyev, A. N. (1983). Towards a theory for the development of the child’s psyche. In Selected psycological works in two volumes (Vol. 1, pp. 281–303). Moscow: Pedagogika (in Russian). Loughran, J. J. (2002). Effective reflective practice: In search of meaning in learning about teaching. Journal of Teacher Education, 53(1), 33–43. Loughran, J. J. (2006). A response to ‘reflecting on the self’. Reflective Practice, 7(1), 43–53. Loughran, J. J., & Berry, A. (Eds.). (2006). Looking into practice: Cases of science teaching and learning (2nd ed., Vol. 1). Melbourne: Monash Print services Loughran, J. J., & Berry, A. (Eds.). (2007). Looking into practice: Cases of science teaching and learning (Vol. 2). Melbourne: Monash Print services. Loughran, J. J., & Berry, A. (Eds.). (2008). Looking into practice: Cases of science teaching and learning (Vol. 3). Melbourne: Monash Print services Lundeberg, M. (1999). Discovering teaching and learning through cases. In M. A. Lundeberg, B. B. Levin & H. Harrington (Eds.), Who learns what from cases and how: The research base for teaching and learning with cases. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Inc. Maclean, R., & White, S. (2007). Video reflection and the formation of teacher identity in a team of preservice and experienced teachers. Reflective Practice, 8(1), 47–60. Makinster, J. G., Barab, S. A., Harwood, W., & Andersen, H. O. 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20â•… Reflection Through Collaborative Action Research and Inquiry Manouchehri, A. (2001). Professional discourse and teacher change. Action in Teacher Education, 1, 89–115. Manouchehri, A. (2002). Developing teaching knowledge through peer discourse. Teaching and Teacher Education, 18, 715–737. Martin, G. A., & Double, J. M. (1998). Developing Higher Education teaching skills through peer observation and collaborative reflection. Innovations in Education and Training International, 35(2), 161–170. Mason, J. (2002). Researching your own practice: The discipline of noticing. London: RoutledgeFalmer. McHardy, P., & Allan, T. (2000). Closing the gap between what industry needs and what HE provides. Education and Training, 42(9), 496–508. McIntyre, A., Chatzopoulos, N., Politi, A., & Roz, J. (2007). Participatory action research: Collective reflections on gender, culture, and language. Teaching and Teacher Education, 23(5), 748–756. Mitchell, I., & Mitchell, J. (eds). (1997). Stories of reflective teaching: A book of PEEL cases. Melbourne: PEEL publishing. Morris, J., & Stew, G. (2007). Collaborative reflection: How far do 2:1 models of learning in the practice setting promote peer reflection? Reflective Practice, 8(3), 419–432. Nissilä, S.-P. (2005). Individual and collective reflection: How to meet the needs of development in teaching. European Journal of Teacher Education, 28(2), 209–219. Oakley, J. A. (2000, April). Voyage of discovery: What happens when inservice teachers explore teaching for understanding through collaborative investigation? Paper presented at the American Educational Research Association, New Orleans, LA. Park, S., Oliver, J. S., Johnson, T. S., Graham, P., & Oppong, N. K. (2007). Colleagues’ roles in the professional development of teachers: Results from a research study of National Board certification. Teaching and Teacher Education: An International Journal of Research and Studies, 23(4), 368–389. Passman, R. (2002, April). Going public: Middle-level teachers build a learning community through reflective discussions. Paper presented at the American Educational Research Association, New Orleans, LA Passman, R., & McKnight, K. S. (2002, April). The reflective discussion group: Focused discussion in a highstakes environment. Paper presented at the American Educational Research Association, New Orleans, LA. Peel, D., & Shortland, S. (2004). Student Teacher Collaborative Reflection: Perspectives on Learning Together. Innovations in Education and Teaching International, 41(1), 49–58. Priest, A.-M., & Sturgess, P. (2005). But is it scholarship? Group reflection as a scholarly activity. Studies in Learning, Evaluation, Innovation and Development, 2(1), 1–9. Redmon, R. J., & Burger, M. (2004). WEB CT discussion forums: Asynchronous group reflection of the student teaching experience. Curriculum and Teaching Dialogue, 6(2), 157–166. Richert, A. E. (1991). Case methods and teacher education: Using cases to teach teacher reflection. In B. R. Tabachnick & K. Zeichner (Eds.), Issues and practice in inquiry-oriented teacher education (pp. 130–150). London: Falmer Press. Rugg, H. (1947). Foundations for American education. New York: World Book Company. Schön, D. A. (1983). The reflective practitioner: How professionals think in action. New York: Basic Books. Schön, D. A. (1987). Educating the reflective practitioner. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Shulman, J. H. (1992). Case methods in teacher education. New York: Teachers College Press. Sillman, K., Dana, T. M., & Miller, M. (2003, October). Fifth year teacher: From mentored to mentoring! Paper presented at the Pennsylvania Association of Colleges and Teacher Educators, Grantville, PA. Somekh, B. (2006). Constructing intercultural knowledge and understanding through collaborative action research. Teachers and Teaching, 12(1), 87–106. Stanulis, R. N., & Russell, D. (2000). “Jumping In”: Trust and communication in mentoring student teachers. Teaching and Teacher Education, 16, 65–80. Takayama, K., & Wilson, J. (2005, September). Mapping student learning throughout the collaborative inquiry process: The progressive e-poster. Paper presented at the Proceedings of the blended learning in science teaching and learning symposium, Sydney Taylor, P. G., & Ballengee-Morris, C. (2004). Service-Learning: A language of “We”. Art Education, 57(5), 6–12. Ulmer, C., & Timothy, M. (2001, July). How does teacher reflection affect teaching practices? Follow-up study. Paper presented at the 12th European reading conference, Dublin, Ireland. Wallace, J. (1998). Collegiality and teachers’ work in the context of peer supervision. Elementary School Journal, 99(1), 81–98. Wharton, S. (2007). Social identity and parallel text dynamics in the reporting of educational action research. English for Specific Purposes, 26, 485–501. Williams, S. W., Watkins, K., Daley, B., Courtenay, B., Davis, M., & Dymock, D. (2001). Facilitating crosscultural online discussion groups: Implications for practice. . Distance Education, 22(1), 151-167. Zigler, T. A. (1994, October). A case study evaluation of the reflective process in a preparation program for educational administrators. Paper presented at the Mid-Western Educational Research Association, Chicago, IL
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Chapter 21
Developing Transformative Curriculum Leaders Through Reflective Inquiry Chen Ai Yen and David Ng
Introduction There are three methods of learning wisdom: First, by reflection which is the noblest. Second, by imitation, which is the easiest. Third, by experience, which is the bitterest. (Confucius)
The twenty-first century is characterised by intense competition, uncertainty and volatility. In such a context, the educational agenda in Singapore demands a new type of school leader, one who could cope proactively within a dynamic, complex, uncertain and volatile context. These characteristics pose serious challenges for the university to design and develop a leadership programme that will provide relevant knowledge and expertise to school leaders with a particular focus on the middle-level managers and their role in developing and implementing different curricula for student learning, teachers’ professional learning and community or organizational learning. This chapter will use a 5R reflective inquiry framework (Fig.€ 21.1:Chen 1995) to explore some of the issues and complexities of the Management and Leadership in Schools (MLS) programme in Singapore. It will describe the key changes in the curriculum for leadership education in the present millennium. It will also examine the need for the curricular changes to create fresh attitudes, and generate new types of capacities for new leadership roles in schools within a particular context, locally or globally speaking. At such a time as this, learning wisdom for self-affirmation and for making the right decisions for others under their charge, is perhaps the most urgent need. Knowledge generation and capacity reconstruction have always been central to reflective inquiry. Scholars and thinkers from the East and West have always credited deep and reflective thinking as the mark of human rationality, creativity, even leadership learning. To Confucius, reflection is the noblest method to learn wisdom. The other two are learning by imitation which is the easiest, and learning by experience which is the bitterest (Confucius 551 b.c.). It is generally agreed that professional learning should begin with self – self awareness, self- discipline and affirmation, but the ultimate purpose of learning, should be for the benefit of others in society. In the West, the most influential advocate for reflection has been John Dewey (1933) who emphasised “deliberate, thoughtful reasoning and problem Chen Ai Yen School of Education, National Institute of Education, Nanyang Technological University, Singapore e-mail:
[email protected] David Ng Department of Policy and Leadership Studies, NIE N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_21, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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solving in social studies teaching.” Later Griffin (1942) elaborated on “reflective thought as the active, careful and persistent examination of any belief, or purported form of knowledge” (Metcalf 1963). Schon (1991, p. 5) in his inquiry into different educational practices that used different theoretical frameworks for reflection, found that “reflection on understanding the different actions of practitioners helps educators to acquire a new set of skills or insights to work in new ways with “kids, computers and materials.” Reflection is a dynamic interactive and inter-connected process. Since the last century, there has been increasing interest in linking reflection with action for different purposes among different learning communities and social contexts. Many scholars in the field of reflective inquiry have studied new approaches, methods, issues and contexts for increasing professional growth through artistry, moral, critical, utilitarian and multi-perspective inquiry (Zeichner and Liston 1996; Targgart and Wilson 2005; Schon 1987, 1991; Kolb 1984; Henderson 2001; Griffin 1942; Griffiths and Tann 1992; Dana and Yendol-Silva 2003; Conway 2007; Chen 1993, 1999, 2002; Bruner 1967; Borton 1970). In reflecting on our experience in implementing the Management and Leadership in Schools (MLS) programme and in working closely with at least 50 of the participants of the last three cohorts of MLS participants from July 2007, January 2008, and July 2008 intakes in the different components of the curriculum, we gained many insights and learned many lessons. All the participants in the sample are language, humanities, aesthetics and technology specialist teachers with at least 7 years of teaching experience. In working with them and analysing their journals and reports, some patterns of common concerns and issues on the knowledge, expertise and attitudes required of the new types of curriculum leaders have emerged. These include the need to cultivate increasing capacity to learn as well as lead others to learn, first the students, then their peers and the school community, even the parents and the larger society. They need to show courage to change ways of learning and teaching , even persistence and wisdom to transform outdated ideas and practices in hitherto successful social milieus.
The Management and Leadership in Schools Curriculum Leadership development is a process that incorporates a full spectrum of learning experiences that expand a person’s capacity to be effective in multiple leadership roles and processes. Challenging experiences and alternate perspectives force people out of their comfort zone. They create disequilibrium, causing people to question their own assumptions, framework, and approaches in leadership and management. The curriculum in the Management and Leadership in Schools (MLS) programme for department, subject and level heads has been reconceptualised in 2007 to move away from the set and planned approach of training to achieve a pre-determined set of competencies, knowledge and skills. The word curriculum was first proposed by Peter Ramus in 1576. For the present era, curriculum is conceptualised as a verb rather than a noun (Doll 1993; Pinar 2003). The word “currere” is to denote the educational experiences as a journey, and learning by the participants as a process. This process involves the learner’s response, associations, intellects, understanding and actions with the diverse opportunities created in the programme. It requires a balanced curriculum of subject, self and social inquiry. The MLS curriculum was designed based on the currere concept. It involves building in diverse components that provide a wide array of learning experiences for the participants. These components include core and elective modules, journaling, readings, local school visits, regional visits, curricular projects, tutorials, professional conversation, e-learning forum and self-organized learning. This is a deliberate move away from a linear approach to learning. It runs counter to the reductionist, atomistic view of learning, where
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CURRICULUM Educational goals Reflect
Recognize
Resolve
T1
R
T2
T3 Learning
Teaching
Learning Community Respond
Realize
R- MULTI-PERSPECTIVE REFLECTION T- THEORY
Fig.€21.1╅ Using the 5R reflective thinking framework for reflective inquiry (Chen 1995)
learning objectives and agenda are pre-determined. The intent of adopting the currere concept in learning is to enable participants to learn through and with their own experience, context, interpretation, reflection, intuition and creativity. By active and purposeful learning in this way, dense information becomes dynamic knowledge once it is processed in the minds and conversations of the participants. In the MLS context, knowledge has been defined as having the following characteristics: knowledge is a human act; knowledge is the residue of thinking; knowledge is created in the present moment; knowledge belongs to the education communities; knowledge circulates through communities in many ways; and new knowledge is created at the boundaries of old. (Ng 2009; Poston and Speier 2005; Ryu et€ al. 2005; Sambamurthy and Subramani 2005; Tanriverdi 2005; Wasko and Faraj 2005). Dynamic knowledge is all of the above and more. It is constantly multiplying and re-constructing into new forms with new meaning and usage. Davenport and Prusak (1998) define knowledge as a fluid mix of framed experience, values, contextual information and expert insights that provides a framework for evaluating and incorporating new experiences and information. Knowledge as conceptualized in the MLS curriculum is embedded in the modules, reading materials, project repositories, processes of working on the curriculum project, regional visits and the entire experiences encountered in the programme For the entire process of their learning, the participants are required to reflect and keep journals of their reflection. Reflection and journaling is a rigorous inquiry into what participants actually do, (“Why did I do it this way? Where did I learn that? What assumptions, personal theory, or values are suggested by my actions? Could I have done that differently?
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What assumptions or personal theory might be implied by the alternative course of action?”). Such daily and ordinary habits as the kinds of questions participants will need to ask, how they greet students and how they lead, how they teach, are all so automatic as to escape ones’ attention, but they reveal the powerful regulatory effect of the institutional context of their work. Whatever reflective inquiry mode is adopted, MLS participants are expected to reflect, examine, and challenge these assumptions through their interactions with the technical content provided in the modules, the social learning of the regional visits, the cognitive and social deliberations while conceptualizing the curriculum project, dialogue with the readings and so on.
The Multi-Perspective Reflective Inquiry Methodology Explicated Our reflective inquiry into the MLS programme is based on our reflection and experience as developers, lecturers and facilitators of the MLS programme, as well as our examination of the deliverables of the participants of the three cohorts in July 2007, January 2008 and July 2008 intakes. In short, this is a case study of multi-perspective reflection upon reflection: reflection for, reflection in and reflection on the purpose, process and product of the MLS programme and about 400 participants in three cohorts of training for primary, secondary and junior college curriculum leaders.
The Purposive Sample of MLS Participants in July 2007 and January and July 2008 Cohorts To sharpen our focus and to ensure that our observation and reflection on the professional growth of the participants are really based on our prolonged engagement with the three curriculum project tutorial groups, the 50 participants are drawn mainly with expertise in languages (including subject heads of mother tongues – Chinese, Malay and Tamil languages and literature) as well as humanities and technologies (for example heads of Design and Technology and Information and Communication Technology). The first author has close interaction with the participants. She spent between 30 and 120€h observing, dialoguing, diagnosing and reading the reflective journals of this purposive sample of about one-eighth of the entire MLS population of about 400 school leaders throughout the entire 17-week programme. Her understanding of what, why and how the participants learn and develop their leadership qualities took place in lectures and tutorials, reading and analysing their weekly journals, observing and participating in the weeklong regional visits to China and Korea, mostly face-to-face as well as online contexts in chat, forum and email interactions.
The Underlying Educational Principles and Assumptions Under-girding the MLS programme, like most of the postgraduate teacher education programmes in the National Institute of Education (NIE), Singapore, is a grounded theory tentatively entitled pragmatic constructivism expounded by the first author to explain the phenomenon of curriculum change adopted by the writers, a few lecturers as well as the participants in our tutorial groups. It is an eclectic approach towards curriculum reconstruction focusing on some established theories of learning, such as constructivism, experiential
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and situated learning in schools, and newer areas of leadership development and accountability as curriculum leaders. The teacher educators having been nurtured and trained in a blend of Asian and Western higher education have consciously or unconsciously integrated modern Western education philosophy and Chinese ideals in their reflective practice. The Asian school of thought has ancient Chinese roots related to Confucius’ belief in “balance and moderation in action and thought” (zhong yong), while the Western influence is linked with the uniquely American philosophy of pragmatism, which is associated with William James and John Dewey among others on democratic living experience and education. In practice, pragmatic constructivist decision-making incorporates, when and where appropriate, the main curriculum planning approaches of Tyler, Walker and Eisner (Marsh and Willis 2007) or associated psychological principles of learning related to Gardner’s multiple intelligences (Gardner 1982), Aikinson and Shiffrin’s information processing model (Barsalou 1992; Benjafield 1992; Mayer 1998), Vygotsky’s socio-historical cultural theory of learning, constructivism – an individual’s discovery helps construction of knowledge, and socio-constructivism – an individual’s knowledge construction is bound by social and cultural influences (Vygotsky 1978). In reality, pragmatic constructivism emphasises a need for change and adaptation according to the situation and in the practice of a learning context. Its metaphysics pictures a world of experience in which the practitioners should be free to test hypotheses and tentative theories to see what works for quality of living and learning in ever-changing unpredictable circumstances. More recently, reflective inquiry into educational practices has led to not only new understanding and new knowledge, but also uncovered new tools for developing reflective thinking among teachers, administrators as well as policy makers (Anderson et€al. 2001; Argris and Schon 1978; Fredriksen and White 1997; Fullan 2001; Hargreaves 2003). There seems to be a revival of reflective inquiry not only for solving tangible economic and practical social and political problems but also in the form of fresh interest in guiding learners towards more Confucian and Kantian considerations, where one acts morally for intrinsic reasons and not for utilitarian reasons stipulated by the state. Both Eastern and Western professional practitioners believe in learning wisdom from experience, no matter how difficult the circumstance may be. The practice of wisdom is usually a reconstruction of many good practices appropriately applied for a specific reason, at a particular time and place. This kind of practice is usually just-in-time for a specific group of people in a particular socio-cultural context. At the NIE, Singapore, the leadership training programmes are reviewed yearly to accommodate changing needs in a changing world. The former Diploma of Departmental Management (DDM) programme was perceived to be too narrowly focused on a particular curricular area, hence the change in 2007 to widen its scope to include management strategies for new areas of administration such as leadership development, innovation and entrepreneurship as well as curriculum design and development. Whilst the constructivist emphasis is still in place in the practical operation of various socio-cultural activities in schools as learning organizations and communities, the middle-level leaders have the responsibility of creating and implementing feasible plans to solve and transcend the contradictions arising from gaps between what exists at the moment and what principals hope to create in a dynamic learning system. They are challenged to interpret old practices in new situations but also to transfer new ideas and practices to entirely new situations, as some of the leaders are promoted to be principals, vice-principals or department heads of new schools and under different boards of management and culture. All the MLS participants are challenged to reflect, review, examine, evaluate and learn from multi-perspectives and from each others’ diverse backgrounds and experiences. These reflections are captured in the deliverables, namely, the weekly reflective journals, the curriculum reports and the regional visit reports. Some of their reflections follow the
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5R thinking framework – that is, Reflect on past action and dilemmas; Recognize the problems or issues; Realise that the leader himself or herself could solve the problems; Respond to the problem or issues by taking deliberate actions; and Resolve to persevere to resolve issues even though the outcome may not be always favourable. The MLS reflective journals could be categorized into five dimensions of reflection. Irrespective of the type of tools used, the reflection is usually about a significant instructional issue, a problem or a critical class/school incident that left an indelible mark in their memory. Perhaps, the MLS participants were unconsciously using reflective thinking tools listed below. Or, perhaps the patterns that emerge in their thinking validate the dimensions and processes of reflective thinking found in the tools and frameworks. 1. Reflection-in-Action and Reflection-on-Action process (Schön 1983); 2. Reflection-on-Action, Action-on-Reflection, Reflection-in-Action, Action-in-Reflection of experienced teachers (Chen 1993); 3. Reflection-for-action (Cowan 1998); 4. Kolb’s experiential learning cycle with four stages: experience, reflection, generalization and planning (1984); 5. RER (Respond–Expand–Reflect) framework (TN,MOE 2003); 6. The 4-step Reflection Thinking Process : (1) What happened? (2) Why?, (3) So what? (4) Now what? (Borton 1970; Conway 2007). 7. Chen’s 5R Reflective Thinking Spiral : Reflect, Recognize, Realize, Respond and Resolve to persevere in appropriate action (Chen 1993, 1995, 1999, 2002; NIE and TN, MOE 2008).
Observation and Critical Analysis of Narrative Texts in Journals and Reports Through the critical textual analysis of narratives derived from a sample of the reflective journals of the 50 participants in the curriculum project cum management leadership tutorials, the reports on regional visits to China, India, South Korea and Vietnam as well as curriculum project Reports, the development of the curriculum leaders, their learning process and outcomes are presented in the subsequent sections. This purposive sample of participants represents a good cross-section of school leaders in the ratio of 3-2-1, that is, slightly more than half are heads of language and humanities departments, one-third are subject heads and the rest are level heads of English language.
The Reflective Inquiry into Curriculum Leadership Practices The Social and Political Contexts In the education of school leaders, the National Institute of Education being the only teacher education institution in Singapore, has always emphasised not only on the development of knowledge and competence but also wisdom and moral judgement among the pre-service and in-service teachers. Leaders need to envision, plan and implement change. The task becomes more urgent as the educational landscape becomes more complex and challenging (Chen 2002; Ng 2004, p.18; Tan 2008, p. 205).
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How do we develop curriculum leaders who are, or, could become reflective practitioners? Reflective practice has been one of the goals of Singapore’s education system and a key concern in teacher education, especially in the postgraduate leadership programmes. This curriculum goal is totally aligned with Singapore’s national education vision and aim: Thinking Schools, Learning Nation – a move in 1997 from an efficiency-driven to an ability-driven education (Goh 1997), and the latest changes for a holistic education in primary schools (Ng 2008) in the new millennium. School leaders have been encouraged to stay open to new ideas and engage in wellthought out experimentation in education. This is because global influential industry leaders have observed that “Singaporeans are high in integrity and trustworthiness, able to set high targets, be analytical, methodical, and focused, however, they are not good at ‘blue sky’ ideas and questioning assumptions.” Hence, the need for schools to emphasize and implement innovation and enterprise initiatives (Tharman Shanmugaratnam 2003) to prepare the students with the capacity for dreaming and realizing “blue sky” ideas in reality. At the primary level, where the system is being re-structured to focus on the nurture of “whole persons,” students should learn not only the foundational knowledge, skills and values for life but also master self-confidence, have a greater sense of curiosity and a desire to learn to work in teams or across cultures (Ng 2008). The MLS programme aims “to extend the participants’ capability. The participants will have to become more innovative in their spheres of responsibility, more affirmative and autonomous, more accountable for results and success in defined areas, more professionally expert in their subject areas…and take on assignments.” (Management and leadership in schools handbook for participants 2008, p. 12).
Profile of Curriculum Leaders in the Purposive Sample of the MLS Programme The purposive sample of 50 participants of the three cohorts of the MLS programme share similar characteristics as the 400 MLS participants. They are teachers with at least 7 years of teaching or related education experience. They are mostly heads of academic or administrative departments, with about one-third of them being level subject or level heads in primary schools, secondary schools, junior colleges or special schools and vocation institutes. As experienced teachers, most of the participants fall into the mature age range of 32–45 with all men who having undergone 2½ years of national service and/or participants who have worked in training, architecture, business, computer science, engineering and social work. The purposive sample consists of mainly language, humanities, aesthetics and technology heads, with a few administrative heads of pupil development or professional development heads of departments who concurrently teach their specialised subjects in science and humanities. They are grouped in the same curricular development and management tutorial groups. However, in smaller groups of 3 to 4, they undertake to consult with schools which invited them to design, develop and evaluate new courses on meeting specific needs of the schools. These curricular projects include Designing An English programme for Foreign Students in schools with a large foreign student population, or A National Education Programme for a local school, or an ICT programme for learning Design and Technology , or learning to think through some social issues in Singapore or Writing Essays. In groups of 9–10, the groups draw lots to visit countries in the AsiaPacific region such as China, India, Japan, Korea, Vietnam, Australia and New Zealand. For the regional visits, the groups self manage and practise distributed leadership in arranging and organizing visits to schools, industries, field trips to places of interest, etc.
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Reflections in Journals, in Reports on Regional Visits and Curriculum Projects MLS participants are required to write their reflections in the journal at least twice a week. The following guide is provided to participants for their journal writing: They are asked to describe their observations on events, contexts, relationships related to the content of the programme. The participants are to analyse, interpret and evaluate their understanding of the events, contexts and relationships by looking at parts and wholes, causes and effects, intentions, reasons, explanations and judgments. They are to reflect on possibilities for improving practice, applications, and variations for innovations or experiments. Finally, they are to reflect on their learning, surprises and other things to be learned.
Findings: Three Main Themes of Reflection and Five Dimensions of Learning An analysis of the MLS participants’ reflection journals, regional visit reports and curriculum projects is conducted using Chen’s 5R Reflective Thinking Framework. Underpinning our analysis is the assumption that the beliefs and attitudes of the participants about learning are manifested in their journal and report writing. Their reflections can be categorised into three themes. These themes are defined as “dynamic affirmations” which control behaviour or stimulate activity to guide us in our analysis (Oplar as cited in Ryan and Bernard 2003, p. 86). The themes centred on learning for leading change: self-learning, students’ learning, professional learning, school communities, including parents’ development, to learning among members of the larger community, locally and globally speaking. The first cluster of concerns focuses on self-learning for change and uncertainty; the second concerns are related to students’ learning and motivation; the third is about learning wisdom and its implications for others in the local organizations: in school and society and the larger global communities.
Theme One: Learning for Leading Change: Self-Learning and Personal Mastery MLS participants, in general, are keen learners who are forward-looking and positive about their own learning abilities and capacities, as well as their influence on their students. However, they are not always confident about leading those under their charge to change and adapt to new challenges. Some, in fact, would rather not lead but continue to be good classroom subject teachers. Those who have a clear vision and mission about their role in schools are more ready to learn to lead change.
Dimension 1: Teachers’ Personal Beliefs and Values and Self-learning 1.1 What is the teacher’s heart beat? To me, it is all about the passion to want to influence, inspire and mould a child to be a good person who can with self-respect and dignity…be independent and yet be a team player, who can have the humility to give to the less fortunate, thus, make a difference to the lives of others. (V. Asha, S.H. Eng. Lit. August 2007)
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1.2 I truly believe that teaching is a profession of the heart. My teaching experience in the past ten
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years has been very gruelling. I’ve taught the toughest, most ill-disciplined classes in my school... What kept me going? My students, they gave me strength. I enjoyed being with them…Two years after being a head of department, I still feel that, my greatest joy lies in the classroom but will be looking forward to returning to school, to my Sec.€1 class. (Hannah. N., HOD, Stn. Leadership Development, February 2008) Being a music teacher, I felt I do not have the courage to lead such a motley group of subject specialists in aesthetics, craft & technology…but I was prepared to learn to work with them towards a common vision and some common goals.…as I humbled myself to learn to give my colleagues due consideration to their discipline and interests, …to balance people development with long term and short term goals and strategies that are aligned with the values of the school, I slowly gained confidence. (Clare Oh, Actg.HOD, Craft &Technology, Home Economics, October 2007) The Chinese Language Curriculum and Pedagogy Review in 2004 made it necessary for some changes for the graduating class. There was resistance among my colleagues because they had to change their instructional techniques and materials for helping students to learn Chinese… After attending the lectures on personal mastery, self-management and delegation, I realized that I have to change and manage my department…I should convince my colleagues the advantages of change, and help them see the broad picture and the inter-connectedness of things, empower my colleagues… to keep their morale high. (C.Oh, HOD/Mother Tongues, October 2007) The compulsory curriculum project was a killer. To begin with, the assigned school was not clear what they wanted our team to design. The team is a disparate group. It consists of three heads of Mother Tongues (two Chinese, one Indian, one Head of Aesthetics, D & T and HomeEconomics, one subject head/English Literature, It was very frustrating in the beginning. Later we learned to compromise and found common goals in the school’s innovative ICT curriculum. (Mark Tan, HOD/Mother Tongues, November 2007) As one who has made a mid career switch, from being a deputy general manager to being a teacher and a subject head, (Design & Technology and Innovation) I think the present system of leadership renewal and training really significant….The joint collaboration between the education officer, the schools, MOE and NIE is a key strength peculiar to the Singapore…Our principals and Cluster Superintendents have also played a critical role in providing authentic on-the-job mentorship and identified talents of leadership. (Danny C, SH (DT & Innovation), April 2008)
Theme Two: Students’ Learning, Their Motivation and Development in Relations to Expectations MLS participants recognized that student learning and development is their core business, but rapid increase of diverse types of student population in schools and some recent educational policy changes have resulted in more stress and fear among the teachers.
Dimension 2: Teachers’ Attitude and Belief About Student Learning 2.1 Students are our core business…have we (teachers) always look out for new opportunities for our students to grow and to develop…opportunities that bridge the gap between school learning and future work in industries…businesses…services? (Henry T., September 2007) 2.2 We visited AWWA, the only school in Singapore that receives multiple disorder children from 5-18 yeas old. The school’s mission is to empower the disadvantaged to lead dignified and independent lives…The principal, Mrs. A. Tan exemplifies my idea of a servant leader – so humble, pleasant and calm, knowing what she wants in life and what and how to guide the students…Looking at the children in AWWA, I really feel that being born normal is not something to be taken for granted… We are given this life we should then maximize in order to be a blessing to many people around us. (Iris L. July 2007)
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2.3 Northlight Secondary School has so many self affirming programmes. (The students do the routine office duties and run the school shop). Hats off to the passionate and visionary principal and teachers. They have the right blend of HARDWARE AND SOFTWARE to make education what it should be. Working with the parents. Believing in every student and giving a second chance at success for them the many who might otherwise not have been able to make it in life. What is the secret? There’s a School Creed displayed: Teachers Serve, Parents Smile, Students Shine! (V. Asha, Journal entry after school visit, August 2007)
Dimension 3: Students’ Learning and Parental Support in Relations to Values Education 3.1 Many parents are blindly defensive of their children…. HODs have to work with the parents and the teachers as well as the school principal to solve problems. (M.A., HOD, Mother Tongues, July 2007) 3.2 In Singapore, we face a unique situation. The question remains as to whether essential programs such as Social & Emotional Learning and National Education are properly filtered down to the entire school?...Has and should the traditional values that shaped our education landscape in the past, and teachers as the key and authority remain relevant in today’s context? Will the influx of Western & more liberal influences be retained and emphasized? What needs to be modified in order to ensure a healthy relationship between the various stakeholders: school, students, parents and community. (Henry Tan, HOD/D&T, after visiting India, October 2007)
3.3 Another curriculum leader who became a principal later shared her views about the government’s latest policy on promoting innovation and enterprise among secondary students” She wrote: Innovation will only be meaningful, if our students see it as a need to help improve or meet our societal needs rather than for selfish gains. If we are to include entrepreneurship, it really calls for greater focus in constructing good character development programme where the students put others before self. Money-making should not be the priority rather staying competitive to bring about progress for the society is important. Sometimes one may have to think about helping others for the greater good rather than to just keep all our knowledge and ideas for our selfish gains. I saw a greater importance in teaching students the value of money, savings and most importantly the need to inculcate good and sound moral values in the students. (V.Ng. LEP. 2004.)
Dimension 4: Teachers’ Learning About Their Role in Implementing Education Policies and Reforms 4.1 “Streaming” has always been a much revered and at the same time much criticized word in our education system…I understand the reasons for streaming …as a result, we were able to reduce the attrition rate in schools…however, streaming has also many other implications and repercussions in our society. Because of the social stigma of certain streams or classes, the pressure on the parents and students are immense Streaming also breeds elitism among students in the gifted stream…To make matters worse, it is widely perceived that students in the better streams are generally from families in the higher socio-economic strata of society, which aggravates the issue…
During our Regional Visit to China, we visited four experimental schools and we were told that in China, schools do not practice streaming…there may be selection test before admission, but once you are in the school, there is no further streaming… I think our education system has matured and we are ready to remove streaming. It is time to listen to the cries of parents and society…so that they need not migrate overseas. (Derrick, Tan, Head, Leadership Development, RI. Journal entry, March 2008) 4.2 From the visits to the four experimental schools in Hanzhou, Suzhou and Shanghai, we learned the secret of China’s great leap in modernization. It all happened in the schools where there is
21â•… Developing Transformative Curriculum Leaders great hunger to learn among the students and staff, the discipline, and support for innovation and professional development to make all kinds of progress possible in nurturing a holistic education system in schools...
In the No 2 High School of East China Normal University, the students are given a lot of opportunities to be self-regulated, critical and creative learners and be mindful of service to the community in their 100 hours self-organized extra curricular activities and community work. To maintain high academic standard, all students must participate in research and doing 100 experiments throughout their 3 year study. Achievement in science is supported by the availability of a mini science centre in the school with many high technology resources such as experiments in genetics and the presence of a broadcasting station for daily student-hosted newscast and entertainment programmes. Sustenance of their academic achievement is dependant on collaboration with various universities that provide the human and material resources. To ensure that the students have not only healthy and good minds and hearts, swimming and other forms of physical education activities are compulsory and examined to maintain standards. The school has the best teachers who have a maximum 12 periods of teaching per week. They do not have official working hours. The teachers are highly paid for their teaching and/or administrative hours of work. Teacher assessment is done by their peer, the students and their parents twice a year. If their rating is low (below 70%), then a teacher faces the possibility of being transferred out. The other schools visited are also outstanding in keeping a balanced curriculum of academic studies and extra curricular activities. One of the most amazing things is the students self regulated discipline and the seemingly relaxed yet orderly atmosphere of the learning environments with student and teacher achievements recognised as their work is often displayed prominently on the walls at the school lobbies and along corridors or in the gardens. Such public recognition could be one reason for the preservation of values and discipline in schools. (Regional Visit Report fromTeam that visited China in March 2008) 4.3 The trip to India was an eye-opener. It made me believe in personal goal setting- Set your goals clearly, then move on stoically despite the odds against you…like the under-aged entrepreneurs’ running around the streets begging tourists to buy things from them…the boys are spirited and cheerful despite their work and poor conditions in which they live…I also admire their spirit of give and take, their graciousness and patience in accommodating each others’ wants and needs…I have great hope for India to emerge a superpower in time to come with this invincible mental psyche of her people like the educators in the private Christian schools who work for the students even earning very low salary. (C, Oh, after India Visit, April 2008) 4.4 The school visits in Bangalore, India were especially enlightening and enriching. They are all self-funded private full schools.... All the principals professed a concern for the overall development of the child. They hope to develop patriotic, confident and motivated individuals who would contribute to the development of India. Though the physical and IT infrastructure in the school is less developed than that in Singapore...and the class size averages 45 to 60…the students impressed us as inquisitive to learn, eager and confident…many of them came up to ask us questions about our country unabashed…whereas our students almost never volunteer to be engaged in conversation with visitors…talking to the teachers can be such a humbling experience when we realized how little they are paid…. The teachers appeared to be very nurturing and passionate about their vocation. (Darren C., HOD, Humanities, HSS, Journal entry, March 2008) 4.5 The three Korean schools we visited are private schools. They are like most of the other 60% of private schools in Korea. Each school is committed to nurture their students to their fullest potential according to the school leaders’ vision so that they possess a comparative advantage against the rest of the students in today’s world of globalization. Each school is very clear in their endeavour to develop their students in their respective areas of specialization – science and humanities in Korean Minjok Leadership Academy, business information technology in Daek-Kyeong Information Industrial High School and mastering English, Japanese and Chinese (Mandarin) in Gimpo Foreign Language School.
School leaders in Korea have trained their students well to be rooted in Korean culture and history but global in outlook and competitive capabilities. (Report on Regional Visit to Seoul, Korea, September 2008)
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4.6 The Vietnamese teachers are very hard working and tried to stay relevant by attending training course in languages and the subject areas despite their poor working conditions and very low salary. Their determination and tenacity to improve and stay relevant in order to survive in this fast changing society. is really praise-worthy. They are exemplary to their students. (The Vietnam team, September 2008)
Theme 3: Learning Wisdom in Decision-Making Through Reflection on Larger Issues Dimension 5: Learning Wisdom to Make Right Judgement and Decisions on Larger Education Issues One of the journals captured the purpose and process of learning wisdom, information processing and knowledge creation in an excellent school. In a graphic manner, a MLS participant of the July 2008 cohort recalled in his journal – 5.1 During a School function, a Guest of Honour speaker from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs told the schools’ gifted and high ability students in a school event that “Singapore would not change its position on the war in Iraq even though weapons of mass destruction was not found. The point was the US government’s ultimatum to fellow countries was ‘either you are for me or you are against me.’ Since the US wanted support, so Singapore’s effort to support the war would be away from the war front-through aircraft refuelling and naval logistics…It did not matter as American lives were lost, not Singaporeans.
My students who are potential Public Service Commission scholars would have learnt from this episode the current reality and being able to strike a balance between doing what is right and doing what benefits the larger community...In developing students’ character and morals, teachers could not just focus on the academics rather on the holistic development of the students…It is never easy to convince a student to do what is right as our students prefer to do what is practical and profitable. Speaking about the paradox of Singapore’s rigorous and disciplined education system, is thart many of our talents have developed into a very mobile workforce and are sought after both locally and globally. We should do talent management while doing leadership development, lifelong learning and staff professional development. In doing so by giving recognition to both students and teaches, we need not lament that overseas scholars not returning to Singapore and teaching staff leaving for better paid foreign schools. (O.G., July 2008) 5.2 Analysing the punitive disciplinary situation in another excellent school where he serves asa Discipline Master, the MLS participant dreamt of making some changes to convert the school environment to be a happy and vibrant one. He would encourage his colleagues to show affirmation and encouragement as far as it is possible. He thought that: I shall have to learn to empower my level coordinators to handle discipline matters, and not to live with the fallacy that I am the saviour of the school as the school has the tradition of making all disciplinary matters rest on the shoulders of one person…I will have to practice letting go and developing a culture of trust and respect for the students and staff…When I return to school, I hope to convince the staff of the benefits of this consortia arrangement in managing discipline. (A.L., August 2008)
5.3 A Head of Department of another excellent school commented on the latest education reform in Singapore – Teach Less and Learn More (TLLM) – said: TLLM gives us an opportunity to define not just what we teach but also why and how we teach. In this situation, we teachers have also become co-learners together with our students…In other
21â•… Developing Transformative Curriculum Leaders words, we need to balance between teacher-centred and student-centred instruction, depth and breathe in curriculum, individual excellence and collective learning, student and teacher accountability and autonomy…In dealing with the reform, she asked whether the school would need new programmes in every area. It is better to have few but very programmes…more quality less quantity that embodies the spirit of TLLM. (Y.S.C, HOD, Aesthetics, A(I), August 2008)
5.4 Two other heads of departments share the new staff development programmes that they will initiate, one is conducting professional development sharing session or Staff Dialogues or learning circles on reflection journaling. They have benefited so much from the Learning from Reflection module or from writing weekly journals that they felt: Reflection gives meaning to experience and promotes a deep approach to learning because it encourages teachers to reframe problems, questions their own assumptions, and look at situations from multiple perspectives. Reflection also fosters lifelong leaning because it encourages teachers to recognise gaps in their own knowledge and attend to their own learning needs and raise their professional standards. (G. Tay, HOD, Mother Tongue, July 2008)
5.5 Learning from the MLS programme, is very succinctly summed up by the valedictorian of the January 2008 cohort. At the graduation ceremony, Ms Adila Ong Kim Luan shared Confucius’ three learning wisdom methods: Learning by reflection is the noblest method to learn wisdom according to Confucius. And, we reflect to keep us going and growing in the programme as we reflect on the books we read, the core and elective modules and some of our misconstrue concepts and assumptions…. Learning by . imitation reminds me of the learning journey the participants took with their renewed passions and conviction as they reflected on the lectures, their schools and those under their charge. It also reminds her of the various visits made to schools and industries in Singapore. Many innovative practices were observed. The third method of learning by experience is the most bitter. I totally agree with the saying because some of the experience I gained in the programme had certainly been a steep learning curve. One of he most agonizing experiences had to be the MLS assignment –the Curriculum Project. The process was indeed bitter and harsh. However, just like the traditional Chinese medicine or the Malay jamu, the bitter medicine does indeed contain beneficial healing power to the body, mind and soul…. As middle managers in school, we will certainly face more bitter experiences along our path…Nonetheless, do not despair, do not lose hope. Instead, be courageous and have the tenacity of life…as Eleanor Roosevelt so aptly put it, “you gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you look fear in the face”. Thus, go ahead and look fear in the face and we will inevitably grow.
Some Insights Derived from the MLS Reflective Journals on the Programme, the Regional Visits and Curriculum Reports An analysis of the five dimensions of reflection reveals the following concerns and anxieties, issues and characteristics among the reflective teacher-curriculum leaders in Singapore. In general, the reflective teacher-leaders engaged in different kinds of reflection. Their reflections show multi-perspective kinds of inquiry according to their roles and functions in schools, not necessary due to personality differences. As individuals, the curriculum leaders are mature and show great flexibility in their thinking and behaviour. All have chosen their own stance in action but know when to be individualistic and knowledge creators, when to compromise in action and when to comply to rules and policies. In the process of learning, most of the MLS participants seem to have acquired or refreshed their positive attitude about self knowledge and student learning, differentiated instruction and pedagogy for different students, as well as acceptance of present realities, or, challenge some of the new educational reforms and policies. They are more conscious
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of the importance of having the right attitude and balance in selecting the essential knowledge and skills to learn for the twenty-first century. While quick to assimilate new knowledge, innovative methods and technologies, the curriculum leaders develop the wisdom to make balanced just-in-time curricular choices. Though bold and quick to discard wrong assumptions and outmoded practices, and adopt new methods and technologies, they realised the need to preserve moral values and principles, such as integrity and social responsibilities in the implementation of new policies. They adopted, adapted or created new practices that are applicable for different ability types of students in moderation (zhong yong) to guide the younger generation to cope with economic and technological changes and political uncertainties in the midst of global financial turbulence. Their Journals and Curriculum Project Reports revealed the following common characteristics about the reflective teacher-leaders. They are: • Independent, self-regulated learners. They live purpose-driven lives as teachers with a passion for their students, irrespective of their beliefs, age, gender, race, education and cultural backgrounds; • Individuals with vision and life goals. They hope to live balanced lives with time for their themselves, their families and friends as well as showing active compassion for the needy in society; • Teachers with strong beliefs and values to develop their students. They have the right concerns for the students’ all round development: physical, aesthetic, intellectual, moral and spiritual development; They are deeply concerned that students with different talents and special needs should be treated with compassion rather than discrimination; • Curriculum specialists with different talents and gifts; they are deeply aware of their own limitations to learn, to grow, to care for the younger generation as individuals and in groups; • School leaders, they are deeply conscious of their dependence and support on team learning and teamwork in their own and their colleagues’ professional development as well as the development of the students in their classes and in the schools, including co-curricular activities. • Professionals, who as reflective practitioners have deep interest in the concerns and issues of the education profession; • Citizens of a country, who are mindful of the challenges that confront their country, yet, find time to be engaged in active citizenship and peace-keeping responsibilities, particularly in times of conflicts. In practically all cases in the sample of 50 participants, the curriculum leaders showed admirable “balance” in their development as lifelong, innovative, independent learners, and caring teachers. Each displays unique reflective qualities and abilities yet as members of a group, they are excellent team players and leaders in schools. They not only changed their ideas about a relevant curriculum for their students in their own schools, they assumed roles of curriculum change agents in other schools. They not only have to transform their own practices but also that of other colleagues in different schools. The frequently asked question about the sustainability of their transformative efforts is a real issue and a matter of concern to the critics of the MLS programme. Undoubtedly, it all depends on many factors related not only to leadership training and development offered by the university but also the policy makers, other educators in schools and the education system as well as supports in the learning environment. As a whole, the MLS programme has succeeded in preparing the three cohorts of curriculum leaders to be more autonomous, self affirming, self-reliant and confident professionals. They are comfortable in making management and curricular decisions in designing and developing school curricular projects and in taking turns to lead in
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different ways according to their talents, working sometimes individually, sometimes in a team. The groups to India and Vietnam were humbled by what they saw and experienced in schools – the passion and commitment of the teachers to their profession despite low salary. The Singaporeans learned the value of being unstructured in the conduct of small businesses, and saw the need for Singaporeans to be more self-reliant, innovative and enterprising in a competitive world of work. The group to China became more appreciative of the good practices in teaching and learning in the four experimental schools. They were determined to transfer some of the good practices to Singapore. These include doing action research on their own teaching, implementing more team teaching and curriculum redesign and promoting selfdisciplinary physical education programmes in schools such as the mass drill to the sound of music. The group to Seoul, Korea were impressed by the Koreans’ positive attitude towards the past and forward-looking regarding the present and the future in their economic development. They were impressed by the Koreans’ appreciation and loyalty to their roots and ability to assimilate other cultures – Chinese, Japanese and American and transform them to be their very own, particularly in matters and values in education and culture. The participants also learned to be more accountable for immediate results in the defined areas of managing student discipline, resources – both human like teachers and school staff, and time (reduce teaching periods, increase class size and do more team lesson planning and teaching as well as lesson integration). Inspired by the commitment and passion of the Chinese and Indian teachers, the Singapore teacher-leaders, felt rejuvenated and refreshed to take on new challenges and usher in new ideas to continue their vocation to make a difference to their students’ lives. • Most significantly, the participants learned to be more reflective inquirers. As they wrote their reflective journals, they thought more deeply about educational issues in Singapore such as “streaming” besides solving school- or classroom-based problems.
Concluding Remarks This chapter has discussed a teacher education programme – the Management and Leadership in Schools (MLS) programme for curriculum leaders in Singapore schools. The programme aims at developing the school middle management leaders to be more reflective practitioners, innovative and transformative curriculum leaders in learning communities. As the inquiry is based mainly on a purposive sample of language, humanities and technology curriculum leaders, it would be too presumptuous to conclude that such a short 17-week course, however well designed and implemented, could motivate and educate some 400 middle-level school managers, being department, level or subject heads, to become truly transformative curriculum leaders in schools. However, it is heartening to note that when optimal opportunities and support are given to teachers of substance, the outcomes are quite amazing. Their reflection on their own practices, or, on other educational systems has generated greater understanding of their personal mastery and their own commitments. They have become more critical in questioning their roles and functions as school leaders, and creatively design new ways of planning curricula and collaborating with newly found leaders from other schools. Some of the teacher-leaders have not only been refreshed by the MLS programme but also have mustered new courage to decide to introduce changes in the education system. Some of the conventional practices might have been so ingrained that they may become sacred cows not to be replaced. As a result of the new insights gained, the curriculum
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leaders are more determined in wanting to bring about changes for the betterment of the education system, the school, and the next generation of learners, who are the hope of our twenty-first century national and global communities of learning and of work. Such is the result of the interacting and blending of pragmatic constructivism and experiential learning among the teacher educators and curriculum leaders for a better future. Acknowledgementsâ•… My appreciation to Dr Joyce James and Ms.Teo Juin Ee, colleagues at the National Institution of Education, Nanyang Technological University, Singapore, for their critical comments and invaluable suggestions on the earlier draft.
References Anderson, D., Ackerman, A., & Linda, S. (2001). Beyond change management: Advanced strategies for today’s transformational leaders. San Francisco: Jossey Bass. Argris, C., & Schon, D. (1978). Organizational learning: A theory of action perspective. Reading, MA: Addison Wesley. Barsalou, L. W. (1992). Cognitive psychology: An overview for cognitive scientists. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Benjafield, J. G. (1992). Cognition. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall Inc. Borton, T. (1970). Reflective models for reflective practice. In S. C. Ender & F. B. Newton (Eds.). Students helping students –A guide for peer educators on college campuses (p. 5) Boud, D., Keogh, R., & Walker, D. (1985). Promoting reflection in learning. London: McGrawHill. Bruner, J. (1960). The process of education. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Bruner, Jerome. (1996). The Culture of Education. Cambridge: Harvard University. Chen, Ai-Yen. (1993). Experienced and student teachers’ reflection on classroom practice. Educational Research and Perspectives, The University of Western Australia. 20(1), 46–63. Chen, A.-Y. (1995, April). Enhancing reflective practices among teacher professionals in higher education. Paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the American Educational Research Association, San Francisco, USA Chen, A.-Y. (1996, June 12–15). Towards exemplary teaching through collaborative inquiry. Paper presented at the 16 Annual Conference on Teaching and Learning in Higher Education, Ottawa, Canada Chen, A.-Y., & Van Maanen, John. (1999). The reflective spin- Case studies of teachers in higher education transforming actions. Singapore: World Scientific. Chen, A.-Y. (2002). Reflective thinking and deep learning. In A. Chang & C. C. M. Goh (Eds.). Teachers’ handbook on teaching generic thinking skills. Singapore: Prentice Hall Cowan, J. (1998). On becoming an innovative university teacher. Higher Education, 37(4) Jan 1999, 408–409 Conway, K. D. (2007). Enhancing appreciation for diversity among pre-service teachers and promoting techniques for teaching it. In L. Hufford & T. Pedrajas (Eds.), Educating for a worldview: Focus on globalizing curriculum and instruction (pp. 189–107). Lanham, MD: University Press of America, Inc. Dana, N. F., & Yendol-Silva, D. (2003). The reflective educator’s guide to classroom research. Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwan Press, a Sage Publications, Co. Davenport, T. H., & Prusak, L. (1998). Working knowledge. Boston, MA: Harvard Business School Press. Dewey, J. (1933). How We Think. Boston, MA: Heath. Doll, W. E. Jr. (1993). Complexity in the classroom. Educational Leadership. 47, 1 Fredriksen, J., & White, B. (1997). Reflective assessment of students’ research within an inquiry- based middle school science curriculum. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Educational Research Association, Chicago Fullan, M. (2001). The new meaning of educational change (3rd ed.). London: Routledge Falmer. Gardner, Howard (1982). His explanation regarding the computer revolution “is changing how students acquire and use information; if schools do not rise to their technological opportunity and challenge, they risk becoming completely anachronistic” as cited in Scherer, 1999, p.16. Garvin, D. A. (1993). Building a learning organization. Harvard Business Review. 71(4), 78–91. Goh, C. T. (1997). Thinking schools and learning nation. Speech at the Opening of the 7th International Thinking Conference. Singapore Griffin, A. F. A. (1942). A philosophical approach to the subject matter preparation of teachers of history. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Ohio State University, Columbus. Griffiths and Tann (1992). Using reflective practice to link personal and public theories. Journal of Education for Teaching, 18,16–84. Also explained by Zeichner and Liston (1996) p. 45–47.
21â•… Developing Transformative Curriculum Leaders Hargreaves, D. (2003). Education epidemic: Transforming secondary schools through networks. London: DEMOS. Hart, M. H. (1978). The 100 -Ranking of the most influential persons in history. Secaucus, NJ: Citadel Press. Henderson, J. G. (2001). Reflective teaching –Professional artistry through inquiry (3rd ed.). New Jersey: Merrill Prentice Hall. Kolb, D. (1984). Experiential Learning. Thousand Oaks, NJ: Prentice Hall, Inc. Management and leadership in schools handbook for participants (2008, January). Singapore: National Institute of Education Marquardt, M. J. (1999). Action learning in action –Transforming problems and people for world –class organizational learning. Palo Alto, CA: Davies-Black Publishing. Marsh, C. J., & Willis, G. (2007). Curriculum-alternative approaches, ongoing issues. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson Education/Merrill Prentice Hall. Mayer, R. E. (1998). The promise of educational psychology. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Merrill/Prentice Hall, Inc. Metcalf, L. E. (1963). Research on teaching the social studies. In N. Gage Handbook on research on teaching. Chicago: Rank McNally & Co Moll, L. C. (1991). Vygotsky and education- implications for instructional methods. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press National Institute of Education, Singapore & Teachers Network, Ministry of Education, Singapore. (2008). Becoming a reflective practitioner – A core programme for beginning teachers 2008. Author Ng, D. F. S. (2000). Change leadership - Communicating, continuing and consolidating change. Singapore: Pearson-Prentice Hall. Ng, E. H. (2008). Our journey in education- Taking stock, forging ahead. Ministerial Speech at MOE Workplan Seminar September 2008. Singapore Ng, Eng Hen (2009). Minister for Education and Second Minister for Defence at the MOE Work Plan Seminar 2009 about “Teachers-the Heart of Quality Education” and the challenges to enhance language learning of both English and Mother tongues and new appointments of Lead teachers and the setting up of Teacher Development Centers and Professional Learning Communities ensure that teachers truly lead, care for and inspire their students. Pinar, W. F. (ed). (2003). International handbook of curriculum research. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Pollard, A. (2002). Reflective teaching – Effective and evidence-informed professional practice. London: Continuum Poston, R. S., & Speier, C. (2005). Effective use of knowledge management systems: A process model of content ratings and credibility indicators. MIS Quarterly, 29(2), 221–244. Ryan, G. W., & Bernard, H. R. (2003). Techniques to identify themes. Field Methods, 15(1), 85–109. Ryu, C., Kim, Y. J., Chaudhury, A., & Rao, H. R. (2005). Knowledge acquisition via three learning processes in enterprise information portals: Learning-by investment, learning-by-doing, and learningfrom-others. MIS Quarterly, 29(2), 245–278. Sambamurthy, V., & Subramani, M. (2005). Special issue on information technologies and knowledge management. MIS Quarterly, 29(1), 1–7; and 29(2), 193–195 Schon, A. Donald (1983). The Reflective Practitioner: How Professionals Think in Action. New York: Basic Books. Schon, A. Donald (1991). The Reflective Turn: Case Studies In and On Educational Practice. New York & London: Teachers College, Columbia University. Tan, K. (2007). Reflection: Some critical issues for educators. In C. Tan (Ed.), Philosophical reflections for educators. Singapore: Cengage Learning. Tanriverdi, H. (2005). Information technology relatedness, knowledge management capability, and performance of multibusiness firms. MIS Quarterly, 29(2), 311–334. Targgart, G.L., & Wilson, A. P. (2005). Promoting reflective thinking in teachers. 50 Action strategies (2 ed.). Thousand Oakes, CA: Corwin Press Tharman Shanmugaratnam. (2004). Education Ministerial speech at the MOE Work Plan Seminar 2003. Speech by Minister of Education to Singapore teachers and educators on promises and challenges of innovation in schools as cited by V. Ng in her journal for the Leadership in Education Programme in 2004. Retrieved from http://www.moe.gov.sg/media/speeches/2004.speech20040929.htm. Vygotsky, L. (1978). Mind in society, Cambridge MA. Harvard University Press. Wasko, M. M., & Faraj, S. (2005). Why should I share? Examining social capital and knowledge contribution in electronic networks of practice. MIS Quarterly, 29(1), 35–57. Zeichner, K. M., & Liston, D. P. (1996). Reflective teaching: An introduction. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.
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Chapter 22
From Subject to Object: A Constructive-Developmental Approach to Reflective Practice* Robert Kegan and Lisa Laskow Lahey
Whole Cloth, Inc., is a retail clothing company with operations in the US, Europe, and Asia. Over the last several years, CEO Thomas Schmidt has been grooming Richard Hayes, a high potential subordinate whom Thomas has admired for his general intelligence, technical knowledge of their business, and people skills. Fourteen months ago Thomas promoted Richard to a platform presidency within the company, putting him in charge of an internationally distributed high-end clothing line for teen girls. Things are not going well for either of them. Although Richard continues to be insightful in his observations and inferences, he is charged now with developing an overall strategy for his own business, and he seems somehow unable to get enough distance on a number of promising separate ideas to integrate them into a compelling whole. At the same time, for all his continuing ease and comfort with people and their feelings, he is now called upon to make tough personnel decisions, set limits on others’ access to him and his counsel, and work out his own conflicting loyalties with a set of former peers who have now become subordinates. He is failing on all of these fronts, and seems not even to realize how he is complicating things by his unwillingness to hold the underperformers accountable, by his inability to say “No” to demands on his time, and by his ambivalence about making his fellow platform presidents his new reference group within the company. Thomas, for his part, is struggling with challenges of his own. Developing an overall strategy – and regulating his relationships in service of it – has been his hallmark since arriving at Whole Cloth, and the company has prospered because of it. But significant changes, both in international supply and domestic demand, now suggest that persisting in his signature strategy may put the company on a declining path. Thomas has not been blind to these developments nor avoided responding to them, but his responses amount to strategy-preserving tactical fixes, rather than a dramatic rethinking of the strategy itself. “If I’ve learned anything in this business,” he has said more than once, “it is this: if what you know how to do is make coats and dresses, then you should stick to making coats and dresses. We are not immune to the cycles of the bigger economy. We don’t have to change ships; we just need to ride out the storm.” Meanwhile, the ship is taking on a lot of water. Richard and Thomas might both benefit from some serious and sustained reflection on their current difficulties, but they may each be a bit exasperated by the suggestion. L. Lahey Harvard Graduate School of Education, Change Leadership Group, 8 Story Street Cambridge, MA, 02138 USA e-mail:
[email protected] *â•›Adapted from Chaps. 1 and 2 of R. Kegan and L. Lahey, Immunity to Change (Boston: Harvard Business School Press), 2009. N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_1, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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“I’m already eating and sleeping this thing 24-7,” they might say. “I don’t know how I could do any more worrying or thinking about it than I already do!” But reflection involves something more than thinking hard about things; more even than feeling hard about things in a thoughtful way. It involves stepping enough outside our current way of thinking and feeling that we have a chance to alter, not just our behavior, but the reality-shaping beliefs and assumptions that give rise to our behavior. As Einstein famously said, “We will not be able to extract ourselves from problems with the same kind of thinking that got us into these problems.” Any psychology, therefore, that helps us better understand individual “mindsets” or “meaning-systems” might be of value to the field of reflective practice. But a psychology that combines this interest with an interest in the principles and processes by which mindsets and meaning-systems develop – the ways in which people come to alter and expand their mindsets to see more deeply into themselves and their world – should be especially so. Constructive-developmental psychology, the origins of which can be traced to Jean Piaget’s investigations of the development of children’s constructions of the world, is just such a psychology. If many of the challenges we would reflect upon actually implicate limitations in our current mindsets, then reflective practice might ultimately be a developmental project, an activity which, at its heart, is about the transformation of systems of meaning-making. We have spent a generation now studying the transformation of meaning-making systems in adulthood, and developing a form of reflective-practice tightly tied to what we conclude is the mental mechanism of transformation. Piaget himself pointed to this underlying mechanism when he referred to his own work as genetique epistemologie, the study of the origins and development of the individual’s “knowing system” or natural epistemology. At the heart of any epistemology is the subject–object relationship, the distinction between that which we can regulate and reflect upon (object) and that with which we are so identified and caught up we cannot see it, and are run by it (subject). “Individual epistemologies” can sound like a dry and bloodless affair, yet they are actually anything but that. The subject–object distinction gets at the difference between the thoughts and feelings “we have,” and the thoughts and feelings that “have us;” the difference between the agendas we are driving in our lives, and the agendas that are driving us. If Richard or Thomas is to engage in a form of reflection likely to help him extract himself from his current problems he may need to move beyond his current mindset. This will involve his coming to see (or “take as object”) that to which he is currently blind, or “subject.” In this chapter, we first seek to sketch a picture of the evolution of mindsets in adulthood, which our own research, and that of many others around the world, has come to illuminate. Hopefully, in the process, we may come to better understand the mindsets of Richard and Thomas, as well. We will next seek to show how each of these mindsets represents a distinctly more encompassing epistemology (with the “subject” of each being transcended and incorporated as the “object” of the next). We will then turn to an approach to reflective practice, in which Richard or Thomas could engage, which is both highly practical – i.e., tightly tied to their own improvement goals; and anchored in root causes – i.e., tightly tied to transforming their current epistemologies. In this way, if we are successful, you will see how a single idea – the movement of our meaning-making “from subject to object” – undergirds both our constructive-developmental theory and its application to reflective practice.
Meaning-Making in Adulthood: Three Successively Encompassing Epistemologies Let’s begin with a quick “flavor” of three qualitatively different plateaus in mental complexity we see among adults, as suggested in Figs.€22.1 and 22.2
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From Subject to Object: A Constructive-Developmental Approach to Reflective Practice
Three plateaus in adult mental development
Complexity
Self-transforming mind
Self-authoring mind
Socialized mind Team Player Faithful follower Aligning Seeks direction Reliant
Agenda-driving Leader learns to lead Own compass, own frame Problem-solving independent
Meta-leader Leader leads to learn Multiframe, holds contradictions Problem-finding Interdependent
Time
Fig.€22.1╅ Three plateaus of mental complexity
Let’s dig into this a little. In profoundly different ways do these three meaning systems make sense of the world, and operate within it. We can see how this shows up at work just by focusing on any significant aspect of organizational life, and coming to see how the very same phenomenon – e.g., information flow – becomes a completely different thing through the lens of each perspective. The way information does or does not flow through an organization – what people “send,” to whom they send it, how they receive or attend to what flows to them – is an obviously crucial feature of how any system works. Experts on organizational-culture, organizational-behavior or organizational-change will often address this subject with a sophisticated sense of how systems impact individual behavior, but an astonishingly naïve sense of how powerful a factor is the level of mental complexity with which the individual looks out onto that “culture” or change initiative. Having a Socialized Mind will dramatically influence both the “sending” and “receiving” aspects of information flow at work. If this is the level of mental complexity with which I look out onto the world, then – like Richard Hayes of Whole Cloth, Inc. – what I think to “send” will be strongly influenced by what I believe others want to hear and hear about. Many readers will be familiar with the classic group-think studies, which show team-members withholding crucial information from collective decision processes because (it is later learned in follow-up research) “although I knew the plan had almost no chance of succeeding I saw that the leader wanted our support.” Some of these group-think studies were originally done in Asian cultures where withholding team members talked about “saving face” of leaders and not subjecting them to shame, even at the price of setting the company on a losing path. The studies were often presented as if they were uncovering a particularly cultural phenomenon. Similarly, Stanley Milgram’s famous obedience-to-authority research was originally undertaken to fathom the mentality of “the good German,” and what about the German culture could enable otherwise decent, nonsadistic people to carry out orders to exterminate millions of Jews and Poles (Milgram, 1974). But Milgram, in practice runs of his data-gathering method, was surprised to find “good Germans” all over Main Street, USA, and although
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The Socialized Mind
3rd Order of Consciousness • We are shaped by the definitions and expectations of our interpersonal environment. • Our self coheres by its alignment with / loyalty to that with which it has uncritically become identified. • This can primarily express itself in our relationships with people or ideas and beliefs, or both.
The Self-Authoring Mind 4th Order of Consciousness
• We are able to step back enough from the social environment to generate an internal “seat of judgment” judgment” or personal authority, which evaluates and makes choices about external expectations. • Our self coheres by its alignment with / its own belief system / ideology / personal code; by its ability to selfself-direct, take stands, set limits, create and regulate its boundaries on behalf of its own voice.
The Self-Transforming Mind 5th Order of Consciousness
• We can step back from and reflect on the limits of our own ideology or personal authority; see that any one system or selfself-organization is in some way partial or incomplete; be friendlier toward contradiction and oppositeness; seek to hold onto multiple systems rather than projecting all but one onto the other. • Our self coheres through its ability to distinguish internal consistency from wholeness or completeness; its alignment with the dialectic rather than either pole.
Fig.€22.2╅ The three plateaus defined
we think of sensitivity to shame as a particular feature of Asian culture, the research of Irving Janis and Paul t’Hart has made clear that group-think is as robust a phenomenon in Texas and Toronto as it is in Tokyo and Taiwan (Janis, 1982, t’Hart, 1990). It is a phenomenon that owes its origin not to culture, but to complexity of mind. The socialized mind also strongly influences how information is received and attended to. When maintaining alignment with important others and valued “surrounds” is crucial to the coherence of one’s very being, as it is for Richard, the socialized mind is highly sensitive to, and influenced by, what it picks up. And what it picks up often runs far beyond the explicit message. It may well include the results of highly invested attention to imagined subtexts that may have more impact on the receiver than the intended message. This is often astonishing and dismaying to leaders who cannot understand how subordinates could possibly have “made that sense out of this” communication, but because the receiver’s
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signal-to-noise detector may be highly distorted, the actual information that comes through may have only a distant relationship to the sender’s intention. Let’s contrast all this with the self-authoring mind. If I view the world from this level of mental complexity, as does CEO Thomas Schmidt, what I “send” is more likely to be a function of what I deem others need to hear to best further the agenda or mission of my design. Consciously or unconsciously, I have a direction, an agenda, a stance, a strategy, an analysis of what is needed, a prior context from which my communication arises. My direction or plan may be an excellent one, or it may be riddled with blind spots. I may be masterful or inept at recruiting others to invest themselves in this direction. These matters implicate other aspects of the self. But mental complexity strongly influences whether my information sending is oriented toward getting behind the wheel in order to drive (the self-authoring mind) or getting myself included in the car so I can be driven (the socialized mind). We can see a similar mind set operating in “receiving” as well. The self-authoring mind creates a filter for what it will allow to come through. It places a priority on receiving the information it has sought. Next in importance is information whose relevance to my plan, stance, or frame is immediately clear. Information I haven’t asked for, and which does not have obvious relevance to my own design for action, has a much tougher time making it through my filter. It is easy to see how all of this could describe an admirable capacity for focus, for distinguishing the important from the urgent, for making best use of one’s limited time by having a means to cut through the unending and ever-mounting claims on one’s attention. This speaks to the way the self-authoring mind is an advance over the socialized mind. But this same description may also be a recipe for disaster if one’s plan or stance is flawed in some way, if it leaves out some crucial element of the equation not appreciated by the filter, or if, as in Thomas’ case, the world changes in such a way that a once-good frame becomes an antiquated one. In contrast, the Self-Transforming mind also has a “filter” but is not fused with it. It is not identical to it. It can stand back from its own filter and look at it, not just through it. And why would it do so? Because the Self-Transforming Mind both values and is wary about any one stance, analysis, or agenda. It is mindful that, powerful though a given design might be, it almost inevitably is leaving something out. It is aware that it lives in time and that the world is in motion, and that what might have made sense today may not make as much sense tomorrow. Therefore, in their communication-sending, people with Self-Transforming Minds are not only advancing their agenda and design, they are also making space for the modification or expansion of their agenda or design. Like those with Self-Authoring Minds, what they send may include inquiry and request for information. But rather than inquiring only within the frame of their design (seeking information, e.g., that will advance their agenda) they are also inquiring about the design itself. They are seeking information that may lead them, or the team they are leading, to enhance, refine, alter, or make more inclusive the original design. Information-sending is not just on behalf of driving; it is also on behalf of remaking the map, or resetting the direction. Similarly, the way the Self-Transforming mind receives information includes the advantages of the Self-Authoring Mind’s filter, but is not a prisoner of it. People at this level of mental complexity can still focus, select, and drive when they feel they have a good map. But they place a higher priority on information that may alert them to the limits of their current design or frame, as well. They value their filter, and its ability to separate the wheat from the chaff, but they know it can also screen out “the golden chaff,” the unasked-for, the anomaly, the apparently inconsequential, which may be just the thing that is needed to turn the design on its head and bring it to a whole next level of quality. Those with Self-Transforming Minds are more likely even to have the chance to consider such information, because people are more likely to send it to them. Why is this? Because those with Self-Transforming Minds realize they have something to do with the
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nature of the information they receive, they extend their responsibility beyond just the best handling of what comes to their door to attend to the state of others’ upstream choices dictating what will eventually show up at their door. Others are not left guessing or ruling out whether potentially “off mission” communication they judge to be important should be sent on. They send it on because people with Self-Transforming Minds have found ways to let them know such information will be welcomed. These descriptions, focusing on just a single important element of organizational life – information flow – hopefully begin to make the “real life” flavor of these different meaning systems a little clearer. We can also dig deeper into our understanding of each of them by illuminating their underlying structure. Any way of knowing, as we said, can be described with respect to that which it can look at (object) and that which it looks through (the “filter” or “lens” to which it is subject). Young children, for example, are still subject to their perceptions, so when something looks small to them (like cars and people viewed from the top of a tall building), they think it actually is small. Three-, four-, and five-year olds will look down and say, “Look at the tiny people!” Children of eight-, nine-, and ten-years old can look at their perceptions. They will say, “Look how tiny the people look!” A way of knowing (an epistemology) becomes more complex when it is able to look at what before it could only look through. In other words, our way of knowing becomes more complex when we create a bigger system that can step back from that to which we were subject. We now look at this way of knowing as the object of a more expansive worldview or mindset. Heifetz refers to this activity as “going to the balcony,” the ability to step off the “dance floor” of one’s living and take a perspective upon it. Each of these meaning systems can be identified as a distinct epistemology, a distinctly different subject–object relationship, in which the way of knowing we see through (what is subject) and the way of knowing we can look at (what is object) can be clearly defined. And each successively more complex meaning system is able to look at what the prior way of knowing could only look through (Fig. 22.3)
The subject-object relationship becomes increasingly expansive at successive levels of mental capacity Self-transforming mind Subject
Object
Interpenetration of solves. multiple solves. self-transformation
Self-authorship, self-regulation, identity, self-formation
Dialectical relationships between systems
Complexity
Self-authoring mind Object
Selfauthorship, selfregulation (self as owner and creator of inner states)
Subjective feelings, reading inner states, selfconsciousness
Abstract system (a whole framework, ideology, value system)
Socialized mind Subject
Object
Subjective feelings, reading inner states, selfconsciousness
Simple needs, enduring dispositions, preferences
Simple abstractions (particular values, beliefs, ideals)
Subject
Concrete actualities
Simple abstractions
Time
Fig.€22.3â•… The three plateaus as subject–object distinctions
Abstract system
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For example, when one makes meaning of the world via the way of knowing what we call the Socialized Mind, one is subject to the values and expectations of one’s “surround” (e.g., one’s family, religious or political “reference group,” or the leaders of the organization one works for, who set terms on one’s reality). The fundamental risks and dangers that arise for such a way of knowing have to do with being unaligned, or out of faith, with that mediating surround, for example, to be excluded from it and thereby cut off from its protections, or to be evaluated poorly by those whose regard for me directly translates into my regard for myself. Were we to develop to a next level of mental complexity, the Self-Authoring Mind, we would be able to distinguish the opinion of others (even important others) from our self-opinion. We might certainly take the other’s view into account, but we will choose how much, and in what way, to let it influence us. The reason we have this more complex capacity is that we now take the whole meaning-making category of “other’s opinions” as a kind of “tool,” or something we have, rather than something which has us. In other words, our more complex capacity is a function of our developing a more complex way of knowing which can take “others’ opinions” as object rather than subject. The ability to subordinate or relegate “opinions,” “values,” “beliefs”, “ideas” (my own or others’) to a more complex system – which can prioritize them, combine them, create new values or beliefs we didn’t even know we had – enables a person to be the author of her own reality, and to look to himself as a source of internal authority, hence the SelfAuthoring Mind. Notice that this new way of knowing does not remove the specter of risk and danger from my psychological life; rather it changes the basic ground or context from which such a sense of alarm arises. Ultimate anxiety is no longer a function of being excluded or disdained by my tribe, but may rather be about the looming threat of losing in some way a precious sense of being in control, or falling short of my own standards, or being unable to advance or realize my own agenda, or having the “pen” with which I am authoring the script of my life run dry. And if one is not to be forever captive of one’s own theory, system, script, framework, or ideology one would need to develop an even more complex way of knowing which permits one to look at, rather than choicelessly through, one’s own framework. In such a case, that framework becomes more preliminary than ultimate, more in-process than magnum opus, and we have won through to a bigger emotional and mental space in which we might also seek out the framework’s current limitations rather than only defend a current “draft” as a finished product and regard all suggestions to the contrary as a blow to the self. These three qualitatively different levels of complexity our research reveals in adulthood – the Socialized Mind, the Self-Authoring Mind, and the Self-Transforming Mind – are thus each a distinct epistemology. Each way of knowing is maintaining equilibrium or balance between what is subject and what is object. Growth in our way of knowing involves disturbing this balance, and “going on the balcony,” where we can look at what before we were looking through. So the “inner architecture” of a way of knowing is the division between what is subject and what is object. We can see a kind of “hinge” by which each way of knowing can “come open” on its way to change. We can see that complexity arises, in the abstract sense, by moving what was subject to object, and creating more extensive, more expansive subjectivity. Well and good, you might say, but the question still remains, “How are we assisted or enabled to make that move from subject to object?” What prompts the development of mental complexity? Can we use such an understanding to inform a new approach to reflective practice?
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A “Subject to Object” Approach to Reflective Practice Over the last 20 years, we have been evolving a form of guided reflection rooted in our constructive-developmental perspective (Kegan and Lahey 2001, 2009). Working with senior and mid-level people in the public and private sectors, in the US and abroad, we begin by asking a person to identify a single, urgently desired improvement goal. (Often they seek feedback from those around them before settling on this goal, or we examine together their year-end or 360-degree evaluations.) We then guide them through a series of “diagnostic reflections” which creates a kind of mental “X-ray” – a visible representation of something which is usually invisible: the way their current mindset prevents them from making progress on their urgently felt improvement goal. This then serves as a powerful context for a series of “liberating reflections,” active exploration and experimentation to overcome the constraints of the current mindset and gain significant traction on the improvement goal.
Diagnostic Reflections: The Mental X-ray What do these pictures look like, which make the invisible visible? Let us return to Thomas Schmidt, CEO of a Whole Cloth, Inc. While confident that his business model is strong enough to enable the company to weather the current storm, Thomas also knows that he must have a strategy to reduce financial losses and the accompanying anxiety it is creating across the company. He believes that he is more likely to accomplish this by enlisting everyone’s help – especially his managers – and having them feel he is genuinely open to their ideas and suggestions. Thomas is intent to do just this, but he also knows that this isn’t exactly one of his strengths. He sees, however, that it is imperative, not just preferable, for him to develop this skill if he is going to successfully lead the company through the next tumultuous months. In his own words, he wants to “be more proactive in eliciting new ideas, and be more patient and receptive to them.” The development of an X-ray around these aspirations required Thomas next to create as candid and honest a list of the things he does (and fails to do) that run contrary to these goals. His list looked like this: • • • •
I don’t really listen; I’m thinking about what’s wrong with what the person is saying I react immediately I decide what I think before I talk with the person I don’t ask open-ended questions or genuinely seek out others’ opinions often enough
Let’s display together the first two features of the X-ray: 1. Starting commitment (change goal) To be more proactive in eliciting new ideas, and be more patient and receptive to them
2. Doing/not doing I don’t really listen; I’m thinking about what’s wrong with what the person is sayingI react immediately I decide what I think before I talk with the person I don’t ask open-ended questions or genuinely seek out others’ opinions
Trying to solve our problems by fixing the behaviors of the second column is a perfectly understandable and commonplace response. It is also a perfect example of trying to solve a problem without changing the mindset that creates it. In developing our X-ray further, we take a counter-intuitively respectful stance toward the obstructive behaviors of the second column. Instead of regarding these Column 2 behaviors as something that just need
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to go away, we look at the behaviors as a precious resource, a valuable kind of “living information” that can be mined to arrive at a more satisfying picture of what may really be happening. Another way of putting this might be to say that we regard the entries in the second column more as symptoms of something than “the thing itself.” Thus, for the moment, we are less interested in making these behaviors go away, and more interested in how they can lead us to a picture of the “thing itself.” Holding off for the moment how we get the “second column” list to yield its reward, when we do “cash in” this candid, unflattering list, what do we purchase as a result? The answer is that it yields another kind of commitment Thomas holds (or set of commitments), of which he may be partially or completely unaware. Nonetheless, these commitments live alongside those in Column 1. To put this a bit more precisely, alongside those commitments which Thomas has (in Column 1), we are able to make visible those commitments which “have Thomas,” that is, commitments of which he is captive, which hold him in their thrall. These third-column commitments are part of the “news,” which the X-ray imparts. They are an important part of the “invisible,” which the X-ray makes visible. What commitments “have Thomas”? What he came to was the following: • • • •
To being in charge and having things go my way! To being indispensable To being the company’s savior To being the designer and owner of “the plan”
If we now enter this component into the X-ray, we see not just a collection of separate entries but a single system at work (Fig.€22.4). The arrows suggest that what we are looking at now is not simply a set of entries in three separate columns. We are looking at an expression of a single, dynamic system; a system of countervailing forces that preserves and sustains itself for a very good reason. We call this system an “immune system,” because it gives us a glimpse into a phenomenon we call “the immunity to change.” It is this phenomenon, which the X-ray begins to make visible, that may be a crucial missing piece in the puzzle of why change is so difficult. We use the medical metaphor of immunity quite mindfully to signal that, first of all, this phenomenon is not in itself a bad thing. On the contrary, an immune system is, most of the time, a beautiful thing, an extraordinarily intelligent force that elegantly acts to protect us, to save our lives. Most of the time an immune system’s behavior is of great benefit to us. Every instance of the “immunity to change” we have identified, in the thousands of persons around the world whose X-rays we have helped develop, can be seen as an asset and a source of
1. Starting Commitment (Change Goal) To be more proactive in eliciting new ideas, and be more patient and receptive to them
2. Doing / Not Doing I don’t really listen; I’m thinking about what’s wrong with what the person is saying I react immediately I decide what I think before I talk with the person I don’t ask open-ended questions or genuinely seek out others’ opinions
Fig.€22.4â•… Thomas’ immunity-to-change X-ray
3. Hidden Competing Commitment To being in charge and having things go my way! To being indispensable To being the company’s savior To being the designer and owner of ‘the plan’
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strength for that person. (As a member of Thomas’s senior staff said when he first looked at Thomas’s X-ray, “the stubbornness and relentlessness displayed in your picture has had a lot to do with the success of this company and the size of my house!”) However, in some instances an immune system can get us in trouble. When it rejects new material, internal or external to the body, which the body needs to heal itself or to thrive, the immune system can put our very lives in danger. In these instances, the immune system is no less focused on protecting us. It is just making a mistake. It does not understand that it must alter its code, and that, ironically, on behalf of protecting us it is actually putting us at serious risk! Thomas’s “immunity to change” helps us to see why a “technical” solution will not, in his case, suffice. A technical approach to his current limitations, as we said, would involve a set of plans or strategies for eliminating his Column Two behaviors. He reacts immediately? He doesn’t ask open-ended questions enough? Surely, we can figure out some effective solution to this. How about if he counts to ten before he responds, actively seeks to find something positive in what the person says? Monitor his own question-asking and have a few stock open-ended questions at the ready. Why wouldn’t this work? We have been telling all our clients now for years that if they can make the changes they need to by recipe, by will power, by creating some plan, for example, to extinguish certain behaviors and amplify others – like submitting to a diet – then by all means that is exactly what they should do! Nothing we have to offer is as quick and cheap as that – if it works. But, in reality, nearly all the people we have ever had the privilege to serve have already tried this, as any intelligent person would, and they have discovered it doesn’t work. Why not? Our colleague and friend Ronald Heifetz makes an important distinction between two kinds of change challenges, those he calls “technical” and others he calls “adaptive” (Heifetz, 1998). Technical changes are not necessarily easy, nor are their results necessarily unimportant or insignificant. Learning how to remove an inflamed appendix or how to land an airplane with a stuck nose wheel are examples of technical challenges, and their accomplishment is certainly important to the patient on the surgeon’s table or the nervous passengers contemplating a crash landing. They are nonetheless “technical” from Heifetz’s point of view because the skill set necessary to perform these complicated behaviors is well known. The routines and processes by which we might help an intern or novice pilot become an accomplished practitioner are well-practiced and proven. However, many, if not most, of the change challenges reflective practitioners face today and will face tomorrow – such as those Thomas and Richard are facing – require something more than incorporating new technical skills into their current mindset. These are the “adaptive challenges,” and they can only be met by transforming mindsets, by advancing to more sophisticated levels of mental development. Heifetz says the biggest error leaders make is their attempt to apply technical means to solving adaptive challenges. In other words, we may be unable to bring about the changes we want because we are misdiagnosing our aspiration as technical, when, in reality, it is an adaptive challenge. For some people losing ten pounds is not an adaptive challenge. A diet, a technical means, can solve what for some is a technical problem. But for most of us – since research shows that the average dieter regains 107% of the weight he or she takes off! – losing weight is not a technical challenge; it is an adaptive one. Solving it with a technical means – dieting – will not work. Thomas had tried years ago to be more inviting of his direct reports’ suggestions. He may even have had some temporary success. But before long the old behaviors were back – plus 7%! This is a clear signal that for him these challenges are adaptive challenges and the X-ray shows us exactly why: the behaviors of his second column are not some weak failings arising from some insufficiently developed moral muscle. They are brilliant, highly effective behaviors serving exactly the purpose another part of him intends! He
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makes everybody check back because he is in the thrall of a commitment to feeling indispensable and saving the company (perhaps especially at this time, with so many new threats to the company’s survival). But make no mistake: Thomas is also sincerely and deeply committed to being more receptive! The X-ray does not peel back the “insincere commitment” to reveal the “real” one. The phenomenon we have spent the last 20 years exploring would be far less interesting and important if we were simply identifying the gap between what people say and what they mean. Change does not fail to occur because of insincerity. The heart patient is not insincere about his wish to keep living, even as he reaches for another cigarette. Change fails to occur because we mean both things! It fails to occur because we are a living contradiction. “My immunity map,” Thomas said, “is a picture of me with one foot on the gas and one foot on the brake!” He wants to make a change, but he also wants to “save his life,” and, underneath his commitment to indispensability is a deep-running assumption that his “life” would be at risk were he not to remain the company’s hero. Organizations all over the world are spending billions of dollars and committing enormous amounts of manpower to evaluation processes with the hope of growing greater capabilities in their personnel. What is the return on this investment? Across public and private sectors, again and again, we hear a familiar and common concern: people will often bravely listen to feedback about what they need to change; they will often commit, with the utmost sincerity, to make the changes. “And then, a year later, we are back looking at a picture of very little change.” What would be the value of a discovery which could, even just marginally, increase the probability of successful change? What would be its value if it could help people to realize their sincere intentions even more than occasionally? These sincere avowals to change ordinarily become what we call the work-equivalent of New Year’s resolutions. Most of our New Year’s resolutions are sincere. That is precisely what makes their dismal record of accomplishment so perplexing. But Thomas’s X-ray shows us why New Year’s resolutions so seldom yield lasting results. When we make a New Year’s resolution, the behavior we are seeking to extinguish, we are only looking at as bad; the behavior we are trying to amplify, we are only looking at as good. Einstein said the formulation of the problem is as important as the solution. Until we understand what is in “our third column,” the commitment that makes the “obstructive” behaviors at the same time brilliantly effective, we don’t understand “the problem.” It is the job of an X-ray to help us to see more deeply into “the problem.” Let’s take a look at Richard Hayes now. After consulting those around him for frank feedback as to what would be the single most important kind of change he should make, Richard identified his “First Column Commitments”: • To be bolder and more decisive • To being more confident as a leader When asked to list what he does and fails to do that runs contrary to these goals, he said the following: • • • • •
I back down when my answer isn’t popular I work my ideas through the hierarchy chain I take a subordinate role (“more like a COO than a CEO”) I avoid conflict I question whether I have all the information I need
His next step was to make his “hidden” commitments – those which have him – visible. Here’s what he said: • To keeping people happy • To being well-regarded by those who evaluate me
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2. Doing / Not Doin g I back down when my answer isn’t popular
3. Hidden Competing Commitment To keeping people happy
To being well-regarded by I work my ideas through thethose who evaluate me hierarchy chain To not running any I take the subordinate role reputational, social, (“more like a COO than a economic risks CEO”) To not looking unsuccessful I avoid conflict To playing it safe I question whether I have all the information I need
Fig.€22.5â•… Richard’s immunity-to-change X-ray
• To not running any reputational, social, economic risks • To not looking unsuccessful • To not pursuing an unknown or unproven trail The X-ray of his immunity to change is captured in Fig.€22.5. Richard’s adaptive challenge certainly has a whole different ring and weather to it than Thomas’s. Yet every adaptive challenge has something in common. There is always some powerful equilibrium being maintained, an immune system balancing the countervailing forces of contradictory commitments. There is always “a foot on the brake and a foot on the gas.” Some people refer to our X-rays as pictures of a particular person’s “status quo.” We don’t use this term, because status quo tends to connote stillness, stasis, a lack of energy. Actually, when there is a foot on the gas and a foot on the brake there is an enormous amount of energy cycling through that system. But, because the energies are cycling in opposing directions, the car is not moving. This is a picture of no movement, but it is not a picture of no energy. Imagine if Thomas or Richard were able to release some of the energy that is trapped in their immune systems. What might Thomas and Richard – what might we – be able to do with this energy that they and we cannot do today? Richard’s obstructive behavior (Column 2) cannot be “wished away” by New Year’s Resolution any more than Thomas’s can, because the X-ray shows us that Richard’s indecisiveness, overconsulting, and conflict avoidance are brilliant and effective behaviors on behalf of his own “third column commitments:” to being well-liked, well-regarded, and to avoiding taking risks.
“Diagnostic Reflections” Enable Us to Treat Adaptive Challenges Adaptively (not Technically) Earlier we said that an “X-ray” makes something visible that is usually invisible. That discovery alone can be valuable to a reflective practitioner – “Oh, that’s what is really going on here!” Hopefully, you can see how at the very most practical level, Thomas and Richard each now has a picture of how – through his own self-protection – he is actively preventing the very change he wishes to make! Looked through more deeply, the phenomenon of “the immunity to change” also shows us (1) the workings of a way of managing persistent anxiety, and reveals (2) the epistemology we will seek to preserve to maintain our current way of knowing the world and ourselves. These additional insights allow us to see the affective and cognitive depth of what
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is at stake in some kinds of changes, which then allows us to generate an adaptive formulation of an adaptive problem. What is the adaptive nature of Richard’s and Thomas’ challenges? Let’s now consider how each of their immunities to change represents a distinct epistemology. The immunity to change is both a thinking and feeling expression of the experience of inhabiting a given level of mental complexity. An epistemology maintains a balance or equilibrium between what is subject and what is object. A map of an instance of a given person’s immunity to change (the immunity X-ray) depicts a sample of that same equilibrium but in such a way as to highlight the limit or contradictory nature of that way of knowing. Let’s take another look at Thomas’ immunity X-ray: 1. Starting commitment (change goal) To be more proactive in eliciting new ideas, and be more patient and receptive to them
2. Doing/not doing I don’t really listen; I’m thinking about what’s wrong with what the person is sayingI react immediately I decide what I think before I talk with the person I don’t ask open-ended questions or genuinely seek out others’ opinions
3. Hidden competing commitment To being in charge and having things go my way!To being indispensable To being the company’s savior To being the designer and owner of “the plan”
By building this picture around a change, Thomas very much wants to make but is unable to make, it shows him a conflict perfectly designed to highlight the limits of his current way of knowing. It takes the contradiction he is subject to (the contradiction between his first and third columns) and gives it to him as an object of his attention. It takes the contradiction he is (which is why he systematically cannot achieve what he has set out to do) and converts it into a contradiction he has (which, he can now go to work on). It creates the paradox that it is only by seeing into the systematic impossibility of his achieving his First Column goal that he puts himself for the first time in a better position actually to realize that very goal! Thomas’s immunity map is thus a kind of “temporary assist” to the balcony, a trainerwheels support to greater mental complexity before he is actually able to balance the new bicycle for himself. When people first see their X-rays developing before their eyes they often have a mix of emotions: “Revealing,” “Uncomfortable,” “Intriguing,” “Scary,” are the familiar things we hear and see in written feedback. This might be exactly what it feels like to get a glimpse of the world through a more complex aperture. Can we say which epistemological dance floor Thomas is having a chance to look down upon? A single X-ray, and a first draft at that, does not always make our position on the continuum of mental complexity (the slopes and plateaus) absolutely clear. But often a map provides a strong hypothesis. Have a look at Thomas’s Third Column. These are the issues he was subject to, and now can face. Do they suggest a particular epistemology to you? You may be assisted in this task via comparison. Let’s have another look at Richard’s picture: 1. Starting commitment (change goal) To be bolder and more decisive; to being more confident as a leader.
2. Doing/not doing I back down when my answer isn’t popularI work my ideas through the hierarchy chain I take the subordinate role (“more like a COO than a CEO”) I avoid conflict I question whether I have all the information I need
3. Hidden competing commitment To keeping people happyTo being well-regarded by those who evaluate me To not running any reputational, social, economic risks To not looking unsuccessful To playing it safe
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Do you notice any contrast between the two? Thomas’s “immunity to change” seems highly related to his need to maintain control of the definitions and workings of a company he himself has authored. You could substitute the word “self” for the word “company” in the prior sentence and it would make a psychological sense that describes the workings of the Self-Authoring Mind. It may only be by expanding this epistemology in some way – a scary activity inevitably threatening to the economies of the heart and the head – that Thomas will be able to meet his adaptive challenge. Richard, in contrast, seems to be systematically preventing his own desired change because it would be threatening to a self that derives its deepest satisfactions from alignment, the watchword of the Socialized Mind. Thomas and Richard are both gifted leaders, in many ways. They have each made distinct contributions to the success of their company, and their differing talents complement each other. If you spent a day with either one of them you would also conclude that both are “smart” guys. If these tentative hunches about their levels of mental complexity are right (and they may not be), we are saying that Thomas is more “complex” than Richard, but this doesn’t mean he necessarily has a higher IQ or that it is going to be any easier or harder for one or the other to meet his adaptive challenge. Each will have to put at risk a way of knowing the world that also serves as a way of managing a persistent, fundamental anxiety. But note that the kind of persistent anxiety each is managing is distinctly different. Each epistemology has its own family of dread.
Liberating Reflections: A Path to Overturning the Immunity to Change Constructive-developmental psychology is optimistic in its hopes for both Richard and Thomas, especially given this more adaptive formulation which will bring them to the depth required for them to realistically succeed. Like any of us whose aspirations exceed our current reach, they will need to change their mindsets. How can they do that? What produces greater mental complexity? If we were to summarize the answer that arises from 75 years of research on the question, begun long before us in the laboratories of constructive-developmental psychologists like Jean Piaget and Barbel Inhelder in Switzerland, or James Mark Baldwin, Heinz Werner, and Lawrence Kohlberg in the US, the answer would be optimal conflict – i.e., the (a) persistent experience of some frustration, dilemma, life-puzzle, quandary or personal problem that is (b) perfectly designed to cause us to feel the limits of our current way of knowing, (c) in some sphere of our living we care about, with (d) sufficient supports so that we are neither overwhelmed by the conflict nor able to escape or diffuse it. As you have now had a look at some immunity-to-change X-rays, we hope you see how they begin to deliver on the first three of these conditions. They simultaneously galvanize a focus on a single, urgently-felt goal, while showing us the way and the why of our continuous actions to undermine that very goal. Creating a picture of our immunity to change surfaces an optimal conflict. But that picture does not, of course, yet engage the conflict. Diagnostic reflecting can yield important insights, but insight alone, for most of us, is not transformative. For that, we need intentional supports to disturb our immune systems, to liberate ourselves from the gridlock of our current mindsets. In the space remaining, we want to give you an overview of the process we have designed specifically for this purpose. (For a more fully elaborated account, see Kegan and Lahey, 2009.) As a way to introduce you to this process, we direct your attention to a part of the map you have not yet seen in Richard’s or Thomas’ pictures. The full development of all our “immunity X-rays” includes this fourth column: What are the “Big Assumptions” (tenets in our mental models) that sustain the whole immune system? We call them Big Assumptions because they are not currently being taken as “assumptions” at all (something which may or may not be true) or as products of our own mental constructions.
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Rather they are currently uncritically taken as True and we see them as truths, incontrovertible facts, accurate representations of how we and the world are. They may be true, and they may not be, but as long as we simply assume they are true, we are blind even to the question itself. Let’s revisit Thomas’ map to learn what assumptions he identified (Fig.€22.6). Notice how each of the big assumptions, if taken as true, makes one or more of the third-column commitments inevitable (e.g., if I am absolutely certain that I know best, it then makes all the sense in the world that I would be committed to being in charge and having things go my way). Taken as a whole, the set of big assumptions collectively makes the third-column commitments inevitable, and thus it is clear how they sustain the immune system: the third-column commitments clearly follow from the big assumptions and generate the behaviors in column 2; these behaviors clearly undermine the goal in column 1. So, the Big Assumption anchors and reinforces the immune system. But what if we were to actively engage the question of how true our Big Assumptions are and we were to discover that they aren’t all we cracked them up to be? What would happen if Thomas were to learn that he doesn’t know best all of the time? Such an outcome could still preserve his knowing best a great deal of the time, and it might open up the more bearable possibility that there are situations when he doesn’t. In those circumstances – instances of which might be occurring right now as the company faces unprecedented pressures – he might genuinely benefit from hearing other people’s perspectives. If he does experience that he benefits, he may, in turn, revise his related assumption that he only stands to lose from having co-designers of the company’s plans. As he starts to revise these underlying assumptions, such changes, like “pulled-threads,” begin to unravel the fabric of his immune system, as several of his third-column commitments no longer feel necessary, and thus the obstructive behaviors they generate disappear or diminish.
1. Starting Commitment (Change Goal) To be more proactive in eliciting new ideas, and be more patient and receptive to them
2. Doing / Not Doing I don’t really listen; I’m thinking about what’s wrong with what the person is saying I react immediately
3. Hidden Competing Commitment To being in charge and having things go my way! To being indispensable
To being the I decide what I think company’s savior before I talk with To being the the person designer and owner I don’t ask openof ‘the plan’ ended questions or genuinely seek out others’ opinions
4. Big Assumptions I assume that I know best I assume I will not feel deeply satisfied unless I am indispensable I assume the metric I currently use for “satisfaction” is the only one that will work for me I assume that as the leader, I should be the savior I assume that letting others be ‘codesigners’ will be more of a loss than a gain for me
Fig.€22.6â•… Thomas’ full X-ray
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Let’s say that Thomas does agree to explore this particular assumption about his knowing best all the time. How would he go about doing that kind of work? What is the series of liberating reflections we have found useful? While there is no requirement that Thomas partake of all these reflections, each furthers the work of his being able to design, run, and evaluate valid tests of his Big Assumption, in effect, turning it from a “Big Assumption” (something to which he is subject) into just “an assumption,” an object of his attention which he can reflect upon and subsequently alter. • Continuum of progress: This is a paper-and-pencil exercise that asks the learner to envision what full success in achieving his or her column 1 goal would look like in the short term and long term, with respect to how he or she would act, feel, and think. In addition to providing motivational direction, this exercise also generates specific behaviors the person can engage in to test Big Assumptions. • Self-observations: The first of these observation-exercises asks the learner to notice when, where, and with whom his Big Assumption is operating. This usually leads to a heightened sense of the bigger-than-imagined scope (and cost) of the Big Assumption’s influence. The second kind of observations focus on naturally occurring counterexamples for our Big Assumptions. The goal here is to build the reflective person’s awareness of experience that may usefully trouble the Big Assumption’s validity. • Biography of the Big Assumptions: For each assumption, ask, When did it get started? Under what conditions? What is its history? What is its current validity? • Testing the Big Assumptions: This work is at the heart of liberating reflection. Here the reflective person intentionally behaves counter to how a Big Assumption would have her act, sees what happens, and then reflects on what those results tell her about the certainty of her assumption. The person does this process several times, running tests of bigger scope each time. If Thomas could experiment with behaviors that begin to put any of his Big Assumptions to the test, there is a good chance that he will modify them. That modification may not only begin to release him from the grip of his current “immune system” (which will help him accomplish his goal of being more proactive in eliciting new ideas, and being more patient and receptive to them); it may actually begin to build the more complex mental structures that allow him to transcend the limits of the Self-Authoring Mind. This will take time. We do not overturn an immune system, or build a bigger epistemology, in a single leap or over a weekend. A fairer pace to expect of oneself, or of one’s associates, might be something like that reflected in Fig.€22.7. At first we are captive of UNCONSCIOUSLY “IMMUNE”
CONSCIOUSLY “IMMUNE”
CONSCIOUSLY “RELEASED”
UNCONSCIOUSLY “RELEASED” Fig.€22.7â•… The evolution of overturning an immunity to change
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our immune system; it is out of our sight; we are subject to it. The next step might not feel too heroic, as we are still captive of our immune systems when we have completed it, but, in fact, an important development has taken place: We have moved our immune system “from subject to object;” we are now aware that we are captive of it. We complete this step, which can be accomplished in a matter of hours, through our diagnostic reflections. By means of our liberating reflections we can move from being consciously captive of our immune system to consciously working at unlocking it. This we have found – working with people across a wide variety of work-roles, professions, ages, and continents – can be done in a matter of months. It may take longer to reach a point where we can alter our behaviors without even having to think about it – when we are “unconsciously released” from our immune systems – but it does not take years to begin noticing changes, to feel the new energy that is released when we are no longer depressing the accelerator and the brake at the same time, to experience real strides in our ability to accomplish the urgentlyfelt improvement goal with which we began. It takes longer to be “unconsciously released” because when we are, we have done something more than overturn an “immunity to change.” We have often reconstructed the underlying principle by which we make meaning. We have transformed our epistemology. We have developed ourselves. That is why we tend to find that people who undertake this type of reflective practice – often for the purpose of accomplishing very focused, very circumscribed changes – are surprised to discover they have new capacities to see and act in a host of other unexpected arenas. The “epistemological balances” we described in the first, “theory portion” of this chapter and the “immunity to change” we described in the second, “practice portion” are one and the same phenomenon. The first looks at this phenomenon from the “outside,” as the developing self’s systems of knowing; and the second looks at it from the “inside,” as the self’s systematic effort to protect itself. The theory tracks a natural process of evolution, in which, if we develop, what we were first subject-to and driven-by, we are able to “take as object,” or drive ourselves. The practice involves the effort to deliberately support the identical move. Freud said that “psychoanalysis” refers both to a theory of personality development and a form of practice to help people grow. In this chapter, we have tried to indicate how the “constructive-developmental approach” is maturing in similarly dual directions.
References Heifetz, R. (1998). Leadership without easy answers. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Janis, I. L. (1982). Groupthink: Psychological studies of policy decisions and fiascoes. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin Company. Kegan, R., & Lahey, L. (2001). How the Way We Talk Can Change the Way We Work. San Fransisco: Jossey-Bass. Kegan, R., & Lahey, L. (2009). Immunity to Change. Boston, MA: Harvard Business School Press. Milgram, S. (1974). Obedience to authority. New York, NY: Harper and Row. ‘t Hart, P. (1990). Groupthink in government: A study of small groups and policy failure. Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press.
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Part VI
Approaches to Assessing Reflective Practice and to the Ethical Dimensions of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry
This part of the Handbook addresses two critical issues: the assessment of reflection and reflective practice and identifying and addressing the ethical dimensions of reflective practice. The four chapters of this section take up related issues. Chapter 23 begins with the important task of formative assessment, how to observe children and investigate their thinking in order not simply to assess it but to understand how children understand; Chap. 24 investigates and lays out critical elements of portfolio assessment, how it can be done, and with what kind of validity; Chap. 25 is a companion chapter to Chap. 24, addressing how to teach and engage in portfolio assessment as a scaffold to reflective inquiry. Chapter 26 identifies some of the hidden ethical issues that can emerge when engaging in reflective practice.
Chapter 23: Developing Skills for Observation and Critical Thinking / Formative Inquiry Practices How can they be taught well? This chapter, by authors Herb Ginsburg, Ann Cami, and Michael Preston, opens with addressing how teachers interpret children’s behavior and the authors’ assertion that skillful observation and interpretation are at the root of quality teaching at all levels. But while working with children, a general principal should be kept in mind: to teach well one must understand their thinking. Ongoing observation and interpretation are the tools of formative assessment that provide teachers with a steady, if informal, source of information about what children truly understand. These authors believe this method can be more helpful than formal testing for the latter samples behavior only occasionally and usually fails to provide useful feedback to the teacher. The chapter authors provide detailed information on how to engage in this kind of assessment, with examples of theory presented and by offering the method they engage with teachers. This kind of approach deserves to be approached with all levels of students.
Chapter 24: Approaches to Portfolio Assessment of Reflection and Reflective Practice In this chapter, editor Nona Lyons offers an introduction to some critical issues of portfolio assessment. The author focuses her attention on portfolio assessment because the portfolio has emerged today as the signature assessment model in national and international settings for diverse professions, including medicine, teacher education, nursing, occupational therapy, etc. Underpinning the new assessment of portfolio reflection is an interpretive conceptualization of approach to assessment in contrast to the standard, psychometric
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approach. Both approaches are discussed along with issues of the validity of these approaches. A sociocultural view of the world of the classroom and of assessment also shapes the chapter. Moreover, this chapter also addresses those who want to understand how to teach reflection and how a portfolio can be a scaffold for that process.
Chapter 25: The Portfolio as a Tool for Sponsoring, Scaffolding, and Assessing Reflective Inquiry In this chapter, Anne Rath offers a first-hand example of a portfolio development process at third level. She reports on her own teaching with compelling exemplars of her students first time encounters with reflection and a reflective portfolio process. Student responses, questionings, and frustrations are revealed as well as their victories in understanding reflection and its value in teaching. Rath reveals her own technique in teaching the complexities of reflection. The research she presents allows a reader to experience what the students experience and how they might be responded to.
Chapter 26: Ethical Dimensions of Reflective Inquiry Author Nona Lyons suggests that the purpose of this chapter is to alert those engaged in reflective practice to the ethical considerations that may not be easily discernable, but are likely to be present and may need to be addressed. Four major concerns are identified for reflective practitioners, whether in national or international settings: professional considerations arising from being a professional engaged in reflection or reflective inquiry; general research considerations, a likely frequent occurrence for reflective practitioners engaging in inquiries; considerations from taking a critical inquiry stance, one being urgently suggested today; and, those “vexing critical issues,” that is, those situations professionals may encounter and be hard-pressed to try to solve. Lyons’ purpose is not to resolve any dilemmas. Rather it is to alert those engaged in reflective practice to the ethical considerations likely to be uncovered and to begin to consider how they might be addressed.
Chapter 23
Beginnings: Inquiry Practices: How Can They Be Taught Well? Herbert P. Ginsburg, Ann E. Cami, and Michael D. Preston
Introduction This chapter is about using video-based methods to help prospective teachers – our college students – to engage in careful observation and critical interpretation of children’s behavior with the goal of understanding their thinking. This is a special kind of reflective inquiry involving “formative assessments” that can guide and improve teaching (Heritage et€ al. 2008). Our focus is on the learning and teaching of mathematics, but our methods can work with virtually any academic discipline. We begin by describing the kind of inquiry skills that prospective teachers need to teach effectively. Next we suggest that the traditional pedagogy of college courses is not as effective as it could be in promoting these skills. We propose two approaches that can help: interactive use of video in the college classroom and a new Web-based system for video analysis. We conclude with a description of an empirical study that analyzes a set of student assignments to determine how students’ reflective inquiry skills develop over time in a course.
What Are the Inquiry Skills We Want Prospective Teachers to Learn? Teaching is a very complex and intellectually demanding activity, at least when done well (Lampert 2001). The teacher needs to observe children carefully; to interpret the child’s thinking, learning, and motivation; gather evidence to investigate what appear to be reasonable hypotheses; and then apply the most reasonable interpretation to guide instruction, whereupon the entire process begins again, never to stop until the child graduates. Consider each in turn.
Observation Often the process of formative assessment begins with observation. Suppose a teacher sees that a first grade child experiences particular difficulty in doing simple addition. He frequently gets wrong answers to written problems like
H.P. Ginsburg () Teachers College, Columbia University, 525 West 120th Street, Box€118, New York, NY 10027, USA e-mail:
[email protected] N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_23, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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12 +3.
Noticing difficulties in overt performance is not difficult. They are quite obvious and most teachers know which students are performing reasonably well and which poorly. But the teacher takes the next step and observes the child’s work in some detail. She sees that in responding to the problem, the child first counts on his fingers and writes down 5, and then points to the 1 and the 3 and writes down 4 to get an answer of 45. An observation like this provides the first hint about the reason for the child’s difficulty. So our first goal is to help our students learn to carefully observe a child’s behavior. They need to learn to attend to more than success and failure. They need to learn to focus on aspects of behavior that might provide useful information concerning a child’s thinking and learning. Yet acquiring the skills of observation is no mean feat. Part of the reason is that observation requires knowing what to look for. As Piaget (1976) said about observers, “…if they are not on the look out for anything… they will never find anything…” (p. 9). Our responsibility then is to train prospective teachers to observe with an “enlightened eye” (Eisner 1998).
Interpretation Next, the teacher must interpret what she sees. The child was not simply lazy or inattentive; he was trying very hard. She conjectures that the child does indeed have some basic understanding of addition. After all, he did figure out the two number facts (2â•›+â•›3 and 1â•›+â•›3). He also knew that the column addition algorithm requires adding individual numbers. But he went too far: he added as one might multiply. The child seemed to use an imperfect strategy – a “bug” – to get the wrong answer. Interpretation is offering an explanation for the observed facts. It may be grounded in prior learning or other experiences (Strauss and Shilony 1994). It may be accurate or inaccurate, plausible or implausible, and biased or open-minded. It may be based on hunches or on formal psychological ideas. Thus, in the example above, the teacher may think of the child’s method as a kind of bad habit, or she may think of it as a “bug” of the type described in the psychological literature (Brown and Burton 1978). Or another teacher may (unfortunately) think of the child’s behavior as the result of innate “intelligence.” Interpretations can be thought of as teachers’ working theory of the individual child. It is not a formal psychological theory like Piaget’s or Vygotsky’s. It is the teacher’s “intermediary inventive mind” (James 1899), her personal way of thinking about her students. The working theory may have been influenced by formal psychology, but the former is the teacher’s understanding (not necessarily accurate) of the latter. So our goal is to help our education students to develop research and theory-based working theories of children’s thinking. Everything depends on our students’ developing good ideas about children’s learning. And of course, the better these ideas – the working theory – the better are the chances of effective instruction.
Investigation Next, the teacher needs to check on her conjecture. So she asks the child to explain how he solved the problem. He tells her that he added the individual digits in the way she observed. But this evidence, she feels, is not sufficient. She wonders whether the child is consistent in his use of the faulty method. So she gives him another problem, observes how
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he solves it, and again asks him to describe his method. When his description is not clear, she asks other questions. At the end, after evaluating the evidence obtained, she is confident that her interpretation of the strategy is correct – or at least highly plausible. Our third goal is to help our students undertake such investigations. We stress two basic methods: observation and clinical interview. We have already described observation. Clinical interview (Piaget 1976) involves using a flexible questioning technique to “enter the child’s mind” (Ginsburg 1997). Some form of clinical interviewing is, we think, at the heart of successful teaching.
Application After observing, interpreting, and investigating, the teacher then tries to make good use of the information. Thus, after identifying the bug described above, the teacher decides to do two things. One is to give the child the same problems in written form and manipulative form. That is, the child must do the written problem 13â•›+â•›6 and also the concrete problem of figuring out the total of 13 and 6 blocks placed directly in front of him. After getting two different answers throws him into cognitive conflict, the teacher can begin to explain how the written algorithm works (for example by dividing up the blocks into a group of ten and units) and why his method does not work. Our fourth goal then is to help our students apply the assessments – their interpretations of the child’s behavior – as the basis for developing teaching strategies. Thoughtful teaching can produce thoughtful students (Ball 1993).
The Need for a New Pedagogy Of course, many classroom teachers do not do the things we describe. They do not observe carefully, interpret well, investigate effectively, and develop useful strategies for instruction. Instead, they essentially lecture and do not make the attempt to examine individual students’ minds. Unfortunately, such teaching is as common as children’s failure to learn. It is the responsibility of those professors who train education students to help them learn to be reflective practitioners. Yet we often fail to help our students understand psychological ideas and how they can be applied to teaching practice. Although we prepare our lectures carefully, deliver them with enthusiasm, and assign important readings, student understanding is often shallow. Many fail to achieve a genuine integration of what they learn at the university and what they experience in the classroom. They can tell you what Piaget says but cannot use the concept to interpret a child’s ordinary behavior in the classroom. They do not know how to apply what they learn in the lecture hall to the practice teaching they must undertake. Our experience is that teachers often emerge from schools of education with vague general concepts (like constructivism) and do not appreciate the relevance of psychological ideas to practice in the classroom. As Nabakov put it, “[A]ll ‘general ideas’ (so easily acquired, so profitably resold) must necessarily remain but worn passports allowing their bearers shortcuts from one area of ignorance to another” (Remnick 2006). This leads students to the cynical conclusion that their training was merely “academic,” in the pejorative sense of “useless.” The result is that they have few meaningful ideas to guide their teaching. No wonder teaching is often so bad.
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We need new pedagogies for training education students. We need to train them in practically useful reflective inquiry – to observe, interpret, investigate, and apply the resulting ideas as the foundation for teaching. Lectures alone do not suffice in achieving this goal and neither does practice teaching. We propose two pedagogical methods, one involving the interactive analysis of video in the higher education classroom, and the other a new technology for Web-based video analysis. Of course these methods too are not sufficient, but we think they are useful components of an effective pedagogy.
Using Videos In the Classroom Context to Support Our Goals We use video with the standard framework of a higher education course. The course, The Development of Mathematical Thinking, involves about 14€weeks of classes involving both lecture and discussion. Each week covers certain topics, the readings for which are listed in a class syllabus. The material involves what we consider to be the best that the field has to offer with regard to the subject matter under consideration. In addition to the standard readings, the hallmark of educational method for centuries, we employ videos, which are becoming increasingly common in many psychology and education courses. Publishers now offer video as part of the their textbook packages, and with the advent of YouTube and other sources, videos on almost any imaginable subject can easily be obtained. The key issue, therefore, is not availability of videos, but how to use them in a pedagogically effective way for the intended purpose, to promote reflective inquiry. We begin with a firsthand account of a brief video teaching episode (involving the first author), which was itself recorded on video. The episode took place in the second week of a class of some 40 students.
A Case Study: Analysis of the Baby Hope Video The topic of the week was the origins of mathematical thinking in babies and little children. After dealing with administrative details (for example, responding to inevitable student questions about the assignments and grading), I began, in fairly traditional lecture mode, by describing the topics to be covered – my advanced organizer for the session. Then I introduced the main theme, namely infants’ and young children’s mathematical knowledge. I asked the students to consider whether babies begin as “blank slates” or whether they already possess various perceptual and conceptual competencies, and remarked on how this has been an enduring and central philosophical issue. I pointed out that research (which was not included in the assigned readings) showed that babies are born with the ability to perceive key aspects of the physical world. These fairly traditional lecture remarks were brief, and after a very short period of time, I framed the issue by saying, “So we know that… babies are not blank slates, but what about the case of math? Now you watched Baby Hope, and the question now is, what do you see? You all had a chance to watch this; this is why we gave you this assignment. Now chime in whenever you see anything mathematical; we can stop it and review it and you can give your interpretations.” The students had been asked to watch the video on the course Web site (which we will describe in detail below) before the class. The video was presented not as an incidental feature of the course, but rather as a key element of study, like a textbook or a journal paper. Preparing for the course lecture was expected to include not only traditional readings, but also study of the behavioral phenomena as presented on the video clip. Whether the students actually looked at the tape beforehand was not known, but they were asked to
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do so. Sometimes, I strongly “encouraged” viewing of certain video clips by requiring students to write a brief essay about them. One of the main functions of grading is to motivate students to do something (regardless of whether the grading offers an accurate evaluation of what they have accomplished). The second pedagogical technique then was to ask or require the students to study the video in advance of the lecture. This is not always necessary or useful, as we shall see. Sometimes it is important not to give students this kind of preparation and instead to challenge them to analyze some related (in the sense of near transfer) or even relatively new (far transfer) video material. Next I showed the first 8€s of the video, in which the 18-month-old baby holds in her hands some rings, refers to them individually as “ring” and then collectively as “rings.” I often introduced video clips with a kind of focusing scaffold in which I attempted to focus student attention on a very specific aspect of the example. In this case, I might ask for example, “What does this teach us about Hope’s idea of number?” Or I might even be more specific, focusing on a second or two of video and asking, “What did you see there?” and “What did you notice about that?” and “Anything important there?” Sometimes I even asked questions that further directed the student’s attention to a single action or word. Often I played the video clip a second time or a third or a fourth. This third pedagogical maneuver involved focusing student attention on a particular issue and then showing and repeating very little video. The reason for focus is clear: the instructor has to decide on the issue to be discussed (at least initially). But why did I use so little video and so much repetition? One reason was to impress on the students the fact that small bits of behavior can be meaningful so that they have to look very carefully and even repeat the viewing. They are not allowed to get lazy in their observing and then tell me only the overall gist of what they saw. Behavior really is very complex. I have been amazed over the years at how I have come to see new features of videos I have viewed over and over again – sometimes literally 20 or 30 times. Then I asked, “OK, what about that?” The fourth pedagogical maneuver was a challenge to the students to interpret. It told them that they were expected to make sense of what they saw and they could not depend on me to tell them. For many students, this is a radical and unwelcome requirement. After all, they have been accustomed to learn what they have been told, not to think for themselves. For other students, the responsibility to make sense of what they see can be intellectually liberating. One student commented that the segment illustrated the baby’s understanding of “one-to-one correspondence.” I did not understand what she meant, and suspected that she was throwing around big words irrelevant to the behavior shown in the video clip. I immediately shot back, “Why one-to-one correspondence?” The student replied that one-to-one correspondence is one of the key principles of counting (which she had read about in one of the course readings). I challenged her with, “But what did she [the baby] do? Never mind the principles of counting.” In retrospect, the comment seems a bit harsh, but the goal was to have the student think through exactly how the theoretical concept she offered might apply to this particular case. I did not simply tell her that she was wrong, but pushed her to explain what she meant and to say exactly how the concept related to the behavior in question. I learned that she was referring to the fact that the baby was dealing first with individual rings and then the collection as a whole. The student thought incorrectly that referring to separate rings – “that each ring is one” – indicated one-to-one correspondence. I asked other students for their comments, but few offered any, perhaps because at this point in the course the rules of discourse had not yet been well established. (At the same time, it is unfortunately true that even after a period of time some students remain silent, perhaps responding mostly to the e-mail or games they can access on the Web during class.) The fifth pedagogical principal is to challenge the student’s interpretation, with the goal of getting her to make clear its evidentiary foundation. The subtext is that students are not
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allowed simply to express an “opinion” but must make a claim that can be supported by evidence. All “opinions” are not equally valid and valued. This can again be a shock to many students, whose epistemological position is “relativist,” not yet having understood that different views need to be justified and evaluated with evidence. Then my sixth move was to make explicit the weakness I saw in her comment. I would rather that other students had performed this task for me, but they were silent. So I said that I agreed with her observation that the video did indeed make very clear that the baby could distinguish between singularity and the larger collection, between the unit and the many. At the same time, I pointed out that referring to this phenomenon as “one-to-one correspondence” was not accurate. I explained what we normally mean by the concept and how the evidence available in this case did not support this interpretation and in fact pointed to another, much simpler claim. I even assumed a very metacognitive stance and explicitly told the students that they should always attempt to look carefully and buttress claims with relevant evidence. I tried to make very clear the kind of approach that I wanted them to take and to be aware of taking. This short interchange, lasting about a minute and a half from the beginning of the tape to the discussion with the student, entailed several important elements. I presented the students with a striking video to observe and interpret. One of the students was sufficiently engaged to offer an interpretation. But it depended upon a concept she did not fully understand. I challenged her and helped her to see how the video offered evidence for a simpler interpretation and that the evidence did not support the interpretation she offered. I tried without success to get other students to offer their views. My hope was that they would show her the error of her ways, so that I would not have to. The interchange represents the essence of my method of using video in the classroom. I confronted them with an empirical problem – figure out Baby Hope’s mathematical thinking – and they had to solve it, using the evidence available. They were not able to investigate further by conducting an experiment (for example, manipulating the number of rings or the manner of their presentation) or undertaking further observations. Instead, they had to deal with the evidence provided – a kind of historical record. But given this constraint, they had to use the evidence as judiciously as possible, engaging in a kind of critical thinking (Kuhn 2001). The instructor’s role was to select the video, to frame the questions, and to challenge the student’s interpretations, pointing out evidence ignored or beside the point, contradictions in thinking, or interpretations that are unsound.
Some General Lessons The episode described involved observation, interpretation, and investigation, but not issues of application. After all, there are limits on what one can do with a 90€ s video clip! Nevertheless, the episode suggests some general lessons about the classroom use of video. Video quality is the sine qua non. Our teaching method begins with careful selection of videos to be shown in class. When the course was first being designed, few relevant videos were available. Consequently, the required video footage had to be created, initially by the instructor. Gradually, however, colleagues and students joined in the effort and we received NSF funding to create a large digital library of videos, including naturalistic observations of children, clinical interviews on particular concepts (like addition), and classroom-teaching episodes (Ginsburg et€al. 2006). (Indeed, literally hundreds of videos now form the heart of our project.) As a result of previous experience, the instructor is very familiar with the content of the videos and even more importantly whether they have attracted student interest, channeled attention to certain topics, and afforded the kind of discussion that the instructor would like to promote. Consequently, when preparing for a lecture, the instructor now has a good idea of which video to insert in appropriate parts of the PowerPoint presentation.
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The first and perhaps obvious lesson then is that the use of videos in higher education (or any level of education) depends on the quality of the videos, where quality is defined not only in terms of channeling attention to certain content but also by potential to attract interest and provoke discussion. To some extent the videos are selected because of their dramatic value. The children are cute and the action surprising. The viewer is led to expect one outcome and is surprised by what happens. In these senses, the videos may be atypical, even though their essential psychological content is most definitely not. Also, partly because of their dramatic value – the twists of plot – the videos provoke discussion and argument, the kind of cognitive conflict or disequilibrium that Piaget felt is so crucial to intellectual growth. The technical quality of the videos is not as crucial as their content. Some of our videos are very old, and were made with an earlier generation of video equipment (reel to reel!). But the slight fuzziness of the pictures does not matter much; clear sound is more important (although sub-titles can be used). A kind of cinema verité approach can be more convincing than what appears to be a carefully staged video. In brief, good quality video is the prerequisite for everything that follows. Videos are “manipulatives” designed to promote thinking. Our method clearly involves more than simply showing a video, as one might show an educational TV show and then move on to the next part of the lecture. As shown in the example, we use videos in a highly interactive fashion. Typically, in the course of a classroom session, we take a short segment of video (one that is carefully selected to illustrate important concepts), show a few seconds of the clip, and ask students to interpret what they see, to offer different possible interpretations, and to justify their own. We then continue the process with another short segment, viewing and reviewing and re-reviewing the video along the way. The clips are generally short, most under 3€min. Most classroom sessions, which are about 90€min long, involve somewhere between three to six videos. The instructor offers comments and poses questions to students before, during and after video clips are shown. Discussion surrounding the video clip ranges from 2 to 20€min, with most discussions lasting less than 10€min. References to the video clips are made throughout the lecture and memorable clips presented in one session are often discussed in later weeks. Students get actively engaged in the process and rate it very highly in their evaluations of the course. Indeed, many students say that analysis of videos is one of the most important features of the course. We might say that the video clips are the “manipulatives” of the course, analogous to the Cuinsenaire rods students use to learn mathematics. In both the case of the videos and rods, the students have a chance to develop abstract ideas through active engagement with the “concrete” materials. The instructor engages in several kinds of pedagogical maneuvers. Videos can be used in many different ways. Sometimes, the instructor begins by “telling” (Schwartz and Bransford 1998) about some concept and then uses the video as a fairly straightforward illustration. At one point, for example, the instructor might introduce Piaget’s (Piaget 1952) idea of seriation first in words and then simply show the videotape to illustrate the phenomenon. No detailed analysis of the video is required in this case. Thus, showing a video in which a young child is asked to arrange some sticks in order of increasing length can be an effective demonstration, especially when accompanied by the instructor’s observation that, “It looks like she really doesn’t seem to get it. There is no lining up of the sticks on the bottom; there isn’t a complete series – there was a partial series but it’s kind of a mess.” So video as illustration is a simple technique. Another technique, as we saw in the extended example, is to try to train the students in careful observation. By playing the video over and over, the instructor can focus student attention, asking the students’ to look not only at what the child says but also at her facial expression, or the tone of her remarks, or at what she does with her fingers as she counts. Sometimes the action is so quick and complex (or the quality of the video so poor) that many viewings are required to see what occurred. Sometimes it is hard even to remember the exact words of either interviewer or child. Presenting videos difficult in these ways is
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a good pedagogical maneuver: real life events are hard to see too. This helps the students to become more alert and to learn precision in observation. A very basic pedagogical maneuver, as we saw repeatedly in the extended example, is putting pressure on the students to use and evaluate evidence to make sense of the material. The instructor challenges them to interpret, to cite empirical evidence for the interpretations, to justify their interpretations in the face of counter-arguments, and in general to go beyond mere opinions or vague, ideological thinking. To further these objectives, the instructor sometimes uses the method of focusing explicitly, in a kind of metacognitive fashion, on dilemmas of evidence and interpretation. Thus, early in the term, after analyzing a video clip, the instructor might say, “Now whenever you make an interpretation I’m going to challenge you as to why you say that, how do you know, and what’s the evidence that you have. And you have to get that evidence directly in what you see. It’s not enough to say, ‘Piaget says.’ What do you see here [in the video]? Another important principle is that we want the minimal interpretation possible. In other words, there are usually many explanations possible, many explanations are sufficient, but we want the one that is minimal – the one that requires the least leap of faith and relies the most on the evidence that we see.” It is often most difficult for students to come to grips with the situation in which the data do not permit choice among several interpretations in a particular case. For example, in one case, the video shows a girl who says that 3 plus 4 is 6. The tape can be stopped and the students can be asked to explain why she might have come up with this answer. Given the evidence available at this point, the observer might imagine that she simply misremembered the number fact or that she quickly tried to count 3 and 4 imaginary objects “in her head” and made a simple execution error. Both hypotheses are plausible at this point (although in a remarkable dramatic twist, the video later shows that neither of these hypotheses or other plausible ones are correct) and the students should recognize the inherent uncertainty of the situation, modestly suspend judgment, and understand that further evidence is required. Yet unfortunately some students conclude in this case that any hypothesis is plausible and equally likely; if there is no absolute certainty, anything goes. So in promoting interpretive skills, the instructor has to deal with epistemological or methodological issues concerning the meaning and status of evidence. Another problematic issue is the relation between the case under consideration and generalizations about children. Some students conclude that the interpretation of a case may make sense, but that because “you cannot generalize from one example” the results are meaningless. What the students need to learn is that the cases are illustrative of general phenomena. You can generalize from a single case if it was a carefully chosen case. Thus, the case may show that a 4-year-old child solves an addition problem by counting on from the larger number (“5 and 2 is 7 because I go, ‘5, 6, 7, so 7 is the answer’”). The video example conclusively shows that it is possible for a 4-year-old child to use this strategy. That’s the sensible generalization. The research literature shows that counting on is a common strategy at this age level with numbers below a certain limit. The combination of the admissible generalization from the case along with the reading of the research literature together allow the student to make some very general statements about young children that can then inform their teaching practice. Finally, at the end of a class session, the instructor can sometimes conclude discussion of a collection of video clips with a search for a summary or conclusion, such as, “What can we conclude about Baby Hope’s knowledge of number?” or “Let’s make a list of the mathematical things this kid was involved in here.” Note that teaching that uses the pedagogical maneuvers described above requires knowledge of the content, insight into the student’s reasoning, and ability to respond to the individual student’s reasoning – pointing out contradictions or introducing challenges – on the spot. This, I think, is the essence of good teaching, whether of mathematics or virtually anything else, and is not unique to the use of video. It is also the kind of interaction that takes place in a good clinical interview.
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Conclusion We have shown how the use of video in the classroom can support the instructor’s goal of promoting reflective inquiry. Students’ participation in interactive video analysis during class provides them with opportunities to develop their abilities at connecting abstract psychological and educational ideas with specific, everyday experiences. Interactive use of video helps students to learn to observe carefully, to make evidence-based interpretations, and to evaluate their evidence, all with the guidance of their instructor. In addition, the interactive use of video in the classroom provides the foundation for students’ use of video in the context of a Web-based learning environment that we will now describe.
Video Interactions for Teaching and Learning (VITAL) In order to build upon the students’ classroom experiences and to introduce new experiences to promote reflective inquiry, the course also includes students’ use of a Web-based video analysis system called “Video Interactions for Teaching and Learning” (VITAL), developed by the Columbia Center for New Media Teaching and Learning. The system was created to support the kind of pedagogical activity that was taking place in the classroom by providing students with ready access to the video library along with a set of tools for video analysis designed to extend the experience of close viewing, interpretation, and thinking beyond the classroom. A course “home” page in VITAL looks like a conventional syllabus, with a list of topics, readings, and assignments, but it also includes a selection of videos for each topic that can be viewed by clicking on the links embedded in the page (see Fig.€23.1).
Fig.€23.1â•… A single week’s topic from the syllabus in VITAL, including an assignment with one required video, followed by six recommended videos
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Because the full course library includes more than 100 videos, the careful selection of videos for each topic in the syllabus is critical, particularly when choosing videos for the assignment that students will complete. VITAL offers several affordances that enable students to work with video at home (using broadband access). The first feature is a “video viewer” in which students can select and clip their own segments from the videos, and attach a note to each clip to help them remember the significance of the content (see Fig.€23.2). These clips and notes are saved in a personal workspace, where they can be accessed later and used to support an essay. The second feature is a “multimedia essay” space where students can integrate their clips with text (see Fig.€23.3). In the course, students are asked to write essays of 350 words or fewer in response to questions such as, “What do the children know about number? Please cite from the videos and the readings.” These assignments encourage students to develop their own hypotheses and select evidence from the course material that supports their argument. Completed essays are “published” within the VITAL environment to be read by the instructor and other students. The instructor can also leave feedback for the student. In addition to essays, students also complete a series of “guided lessons” in clinical interviewing. These assignments are designed to simulate an interview by stepping students through videotaped interviews and prompting them to interpret the child’s behavior and the interviewer’s technique, to anticipate what the child will do next, and to make recommendations for subsequent questions. Students also write a weekly reflection in VITAL within 24€ h of class, which is the concluding event for the week and serves as an opportunity to express what they learned, pose questions, and dispute ideas discussed in class.
Fig.€23.2╅ The VITAL video viewer, with editing tools and an annotation space beneath the video, and clips with notes collected in the right-hand column
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Fig.€23.3â•… The multimedia essay, with the student’s collected video clips on the left side of the screen, and a writing space incorporating text and video on the right. Students click or drag their video clips to add them to their essay
In the final month of the course, students complete a project that involves designing a mathematical lesson or activity, trying it out with a child, and interviewing the child afterward to find out what he or she learned. The student records these events on videotape, submits the tape for inclusion in the VITAL library, and writes a research paper, in the form of an extended multimedia essay, that details the literature, methods employed, and results obtained. The final project integrates the mathematics content learned in the course with the assessment skills associated with clinical interviewing. The final project report submitted in VITAL also serves as a demonstration of the students’ ability to think critically – even scientifically – about the work they are doing as teachers and what a child might be learning as a result. In brief, VITAL introduces a sequence of activities – essays, lessons, reflections, an interview, and a final project – that are designed to help students learn to observe, make hypotheses, evaluate interpretations in the light of evidence, use a clinical interview to investigate, and apply their ideas and skills to teaching.
Does the Course Succeed In Promoting Reflective Thinking? The various elements of the course, particularly classroom interactions around videos and VITAL assignments, were designed to promote and support reflective thinking as described earlier: observe, interpret, investigate, and apply. By providing students with opportunities to independently apply their developing skills of observation and interpretation to the analysis of videotaped examples of children’s behavior, VITAL creates the possibility for
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individual students to develop personally meaningful working theories of student behavior, to learn to observe behavior through the enlightened eye and to investigate thinking with the clinical interview, and finally to apply the working theories and investigative techniques to issues of instruction.
An Empirical Approach to Assessing Critical Thinking We were naturally interested in evaluating the success of our approach. Our first major evaluation study (Preston 2008) examined the process of student interpretation. In particular, the study focused on assignments in which students were required to interpret a particular video. Of particular interest were: student claims, the evidence cited for those claims, the reasoning that linked the evidence to the claims, the links posited to the research literature, and the “modesty” with which the students approached the task. Consider each in turn.
Claims A claim is a generalization, a statement of belief, or an assertion (about children, learning, etc.). It can also be a prediction. A claim tends to introduce a new idea, e.g., “Children can count mentally or use a variety of other strategies.” A claim tends to be broad and to require substantiation, e.g., “The boys demonstrate a strong understanding of spatial relations.”
Evidence Evidence is a reference to or description of observable events, usually positioned after a claim. In our study, evidence can appear as text (verbal description) or video inserted within the essay. Evidence contains observable events that two people can more or less agree upon objectively, e.g., “Armando tries to add another block to connect the two structures, but it doesn’t reach.” Evidence can include both verbal and nonverbal behaviors, e.g., “Armando begins looking around for a certain block and says ‘circle thing’ to describe it.” There is an interpretive component in the naming and placement of a clip, but any deliberate attempt to use evidence to support a claim constitutes a “relational statement” (see below). Evidence refers exclusively to the naming or identifying of observable behaviors.
Relational Statements A relational statement offers an explanation/interpretation of how the selected evidence connects back to a claim. A relation interprets what is happening in the cited evidence, e.g., “Armando’s use of the phrase ‘circle thing’ demonstrates that he knows some shapes and can identify this aspect of the cylinder, even if he doesn’t have the proper word for it.” A relation explains how the evidence supports (or contradicts) a claim, e.g., “Gabriella
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appears to know what colors can be used in her blue-green pattern, but when she chooses yellow, it shows that she may be more focused on the colors than on the rules of patterns.” Relational keywords include “shows” and “demonstrates,” i.e., words the author uses to explain the evidence or to comment on something that is otherwise observational. Good relational writing might include more than one interpretation per piece of evidence.
Modest Statements Modest statements evaluate the adequacy of a claim, propose alternatives, or acknowledge the limits of the evidence. Modesty includes “intellectual humility” by which the author recognizes the limits of what is knowable given the evidence, e.g., “At this point, it seems that the child understands the idea of pattern.” Modest language includes explicit statements in which the author assesses the relative certainty of a specific interpretation, e.g., conditional words like “might” and “could” (anticipating other possible interpretations), perception words like “appears” and “seems” (limiting certainty), temporal words like “now” and “before” (acknowledging interpretations can change with new evidence), and metacognitive words like “we realize” and “leads one to believe” (inserting the author’s thinking into the essay). Modesty can also identify missing evidence, e.g., “Because the interviewer changed tasks, we did not see whether Gabriella could continue the pattern on her own,” as well as suggestions for obtaining more evidence, e.g., “I would have asked the child to make her own pattern to see whether she understood the repeating concept.”
References to Literature A reference is a citation or actual quoted text from literature, which can be used in a variety of ways. References can be appeals to authority, used to add arbitrary certainty to a claim or relation, often where no evidence is cited. In this instance, reference substitutes for reasoning and evidence, and we might call this an “authoritarian” use of reference. For example, one student explained an episode not by referring to any evidence but simply by asserting what an authority wrote about children at that age level: “According to Ginsburg (p. 61), one of the strategies children use to count is by counting the value of the larger set and adding one.” References can also be used to provide a framework for justifying a claim. In this next instance, references provide support to the author’s own reasoning and evidence, and we might call this an “authoritative” use of reference, e.g., “He used the strategy of counting on from the larger number (Ginsburg, p. 61).” These five elements combine to represent a working definition of critical thinking as the application of the methods of informal argument, which consist of a central claim and supporting evidence, and relational statements to connect evidence to claims (Billig 1987; Kuhn 1991; Glassner 2005). More robust arguments also account for competing claims (Finocchiaro 2003; Glassner and Schwarz 2005), and thus exhibit a kind of “modesty,” as well as efforts to identify needed evidence, and suggestions of methods for obtaining it. Additionally, an important characteristic of high-quality arguments is parsimony; offering the “minimum interpretation possible” demonstrates a respect for evidence and epistemological uncertainty. To make additional claims, one may have to gather more evidence. Students were not aware of our interest in these criteria, nor were they instructed explicitly in the skills of argument. The instructions for each essay focused primarily on the relevant content, although they did encourage students to cite evidence.
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We hypothesized that regular practice in the analysis of video in the context of short writing assignments would help students create and improve their use of informal arguments in a number of specific ways. Our research questions included: 1. Do students learn to make more careful claims? 2. Do students learn to use more evidence to support their claims? 3. Do students learn to make more explicit connections between their claims and evidence? 4. Do students learn to be more “modest” by either qualifying their interpretations with conditional language or stating what information is required to be more certain? 5. Do students cite from the literature in a way that supports their argument but does not serve as a substitute for evidence or reasoning? To test these questions, we designed an empirical study to help us refine our measures of critical thinking skills and to provide evidence of the effectiveness of our approach. Our subjects were 20 students enrolled in “The Development of Mathematical Thinking,” a graduate level course on early childhood mathematics education, in fall 2006. The students were working toward their certification in early childhood education (birth through age 8). The course covers topics recommended by NCTM, including number and operations, geometry, measurement, algebra (including patterns), and data analysis (NAEYC and NCTM 2002). A second, perhaps equally important goal of this course is to prepare teachers who can use multiple sources of knowledge to make valid professional judgments and decisions regarding early mathematics education in their classrooms – what to teach, when to teach it, and how best to teach it (Ginsburg et€al. 2004). Every student in the course used VITAL to compose five “multimedia essays” of approximately 350 words over a 2-month period. The essays were written on the following topics related to the psychology of mathematics in the early grades: mathematics all around us, everyday number, addition and subtraction, geometry, and algebra and pattern. Students were required to complete a few short readings on each topic and watch one to three videos that illustrated the content in some way, typically with a child completing a mathematical task and answering questions posed by an adult researcher. The essay questions were brief and always concluded with the request, “Please discuss using evidence from the videos and readings.” Students used the VITAL video viewer to select clips from the assigned video(s), and then they composed an essay in the VITAL essay space, where they integrated the video clips into their text. After submitting their essays, the students received feedback from the course TAs and had an opportunity to discuss their interpretations in class, which took place 2€days after the essays were submitted. We used the first (mathematics all around us), third (addition and subtraction), and fifth (algebra and pattern) essays in order to examine the development of critical thinking, as the students progressed through the course. We refer to these as essays 1, 2, and 3 for purposes of our analyses. The study did not have the benefit of a control group to help disentangle the effects of specific factors such as use of videos in class, the lectures, the readings, preexisting inquiry skills, and students’ learning experiences within VITAL on the development of critical thinking. Three independent reviewers coded the essays as illustrated in the example above. The codes for each essay were summed and converted to an average number per sentence, in order to adjust for differences between longer and shorter essays. Inter-rater reliability for the variables were râ•›=â•›0.756 for claims, râ•›=â•›0.845 for evidence, râ•›=â•›0.541 for relational statements (which we hope to improve by refining the coding definition and providing additional training to coders), and râ•›=â•›0.870 for modesty. We then ran a repeated measures one-way ANOVA on each coded variable – claims, evidence, relational statements, modesty, and references – and used Tukey’s HSD to determine whether differences between the means were significant.
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Results of the Study Our analyses show significant differences on the main variables of concern: claims, relational statements, and modesty. We also created a new variable, the ratio between claims and evidence, to reflect the significance of a decreased number of claims even when the number of pieces of evidence remained relatively constant.
Claims Our first research question is “Do students learn to make more careful claims?” We hypothesize that the number of claims would decrease as subjects learn to use them more judiciously. In our study, the average number of claims per sentence decreases significantly between essay 1 and essay 3, Fâ•›=â•›16.472, dfâ•›=â•›2, pâ•›<â•›0.001. The number of claims decreases significantly at the pâ•›<â•›0.05 level between each essay, and at the pâ•›<â•›0.01 level between essay 1 and essay 3. Three subjects’ claims increase between essay 1 and essay 3 (see Fig.€23.4). It is possible that the nature of the video and assignment associated with essay 1 encourages a higher number of claims, since subjects were instructed to identify and explain examples of mathematical thinking in a less structured video clip, rather than to support a specific argument, as they were in essay 2 and essay 3. However, the mean continues to decrease significantly and at the same rate between essay 2 and essay 3 as between essay 1 and essay 2, which suggests the video and assignment type is not a significant factor.
Evidence Our second research question was, “Do students learn to use more evidence to support their claims?” We hypothesized that students would learn to use more evidence to support their claims. However, the number of instances of evidence stays relatively consistent
Fig.€23.4â•… Each data point represents the mean of the students’ average number of claims in a given essay. The average was calculated by dividing the number of claims by the number of sentences in each essay
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Fig.€23.5â•… Each data point represents the mean of the students’ ratio of claims to evidence. The ratio was calculated by dividing the number of claims by the number of instances of evidence in each essay
across the three essays – there is no significant difference among the three means (Fâ•›=â•›1.173, dfâ•›=â•›2, pâ•›=â•›0.320). Yet there is a simple explanation: as the number of claims decreases, the steady rate of evidence represents an increase in the amount of evidence cited per claim. We calculate the ratio of claims to evidence as a more valid measure, as students should use more evidence per claim as their writing improves, or, mathematically backwards, fewer claims per piece of evidence. This variable was also significant. The difference between the means of essay 1 and essay 2 is nonsignificant, but the difference between essay 1 and essay 3 is significant at pâ•›<â•›0.01, and between essay 2 and essay 3 at pâ•›<â•›0.05 (Fâ•›=â•›10.354, dfâ•›=â•›2, pâ•›<â•›0.001). Four subjects’ claim-evidence ratios increase between essay 1 and essay 3 (see Fig.€23.5). Even though the total number of instances of evidence does not change significantly, it is worth noting the subjects’ shift from text-based to video-based evidence. This may indicate growing comfort with the video analysis tools and/or with the general practice of citing video-based evidence. The average number of text-based instances of evidence decreases significantly at the pâ•›<â•›0.05 level between essay 1 and essay 3, Fâ•›=â•›4.651, dfâ•›=â•›2, pâ•›=â•›0.016. There is a corresponding, but nonsignificant, increase in the average number of video-based instances of evidence, Fâ•›=â•›1.472, dfâ•›=â•›2, pâ•›=â•›0.242. These opposing trends prevent the composite evidence score from increasing or decreasing significantly.
Relational Statements Our third research question was, “Do students learn to make more explicit connections between claims and evidence?” We hypothesized that the number of relational statements would increase as subjects learn to make more explicit connections between claims and evidence. We observed a significant increase in these statements. The difference between the means of essay 1 and essay 2 is significant at pâ•›<â•›0.05, and the difference between essay 1 and 3 and between essay 2 and 3 is significant at pâ•›<â•›0.01 (Fâ•›=â•›18.126, dfâ•›=â•›2, pâ•›<â•›0.001) (see Fig.€23.6).
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Fig.€23.6â•… Each data point represents the mean of the students’ average number of relational statements in a given essay. The average was calculated by dividing the number of relational statements by the number of sentences in each essay
Fig.€23.7â•… Each data point represents the mean of the students’ average number of modest statements in a given essay. The average was calculated by dividing the number of modest statements by the number of sentences in each essay
Modest Statements Our fourth research question was, “Do students learn to be more modest, by either qualifying their interpretations with conditional language or stating what information is required to be more certain?” We hypothesized that the number of “modest” statements would increase as subjects used more qualifying language about their claims, and/or identified missing evidence that is needed to make stronger claims. The difference between the means of essay 1 and essay 2 is nonsignificant. The difference between essay 1 and 3 and between essay 2 and 3 is significant at pâ•›<â•›0.01 (Fâ•›=â•›36.0221, dfâ•›=â•›2, pâ•›<â•›0.001). One subject’s number of modest statements decreases between essay 1 and essay 3 (see Fig.€23.7).
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References We tallied the number of references to literature to account for language that did not fit in any of the above categories. We hypothesized that the number of reference statements would decrease as subjects began to rely on their own interpretations to explain what they observed. The data show no significant difference among the means (Fâ•›=â•›2.8587, dfâ•›=â•›2, pâ•›=â•›0.070). Six subjects’ references increase between essay 1 and essay 3.
Discussion Taken separately, the variables show significant change in the direction we expected. The number of claims decreased across the three essays, most likely because students learned to make fewer claims in order to better defend them in the space allotted. Similarly, the ratio of evidence to claims increased (or conversely there was a decrease in the ratio of claims to evidence). The number of relational statements increased as students began to explain why their selected evidence supported their claims. Most interestingly, perhaps, the amount of “modesty,” as reflected by the students’ use of conditional language as well as statements that acknowledged missing evidence, increased dramatically across the three essays. The larger question is whether these results imply that students developed an ability to engage in more sophisticated arguments. According to the simple definition of informal argument we have offered, the students did learn to better coordinate their claims and evidence: they tipped the ratio of these two elements in the right direction, and they learned not to allow claims and evidence to stand alone, without explaining what the evidence shows substantively (not merely recounting the events captured in the video), and how it relates back to the claim. They also showed development in the area of intellectual humility; by the final essay, many students appear to have acquired a respect for evidence and the reasonable limits of their claims. What factors are responsible for producing these results? We hypothesized that practice with the video analysis and writing tools offered by VITAL would improve students’ critical thinking and skills of argument. The results do seem to support the hypothesis – particularly in the absence of any specific instruction in argument writing – but we want to be modest about the claim. Our claim is far from conclusive, given that the assignments within VITAL were embedded in a course in which, as we showed earlier, critical thinking was modeled in lecture and encouraged in discussion, sometimes implicitly and sometimes explicitly. In brief, the evidence provided by assignments suggests that students do indeed improve their critical thinking and skills of argument within the VITAL environment and the course experience as a whole.
Conclusions Our goal has been to promote the reflective inquiry of prospective teachers whom we train at the college and university levels. Our work shows first that videos illustrating children’s thinking and learning, as well as the processes of teaching, can be of enormous benefit for prospective teachers. The videos bring to life the central phenomena that teachers need to understand and that print media often describe in a more pallid manner. Use of video to illustrate thinking, learning, and teaching is a major tool for training prospective teachers. But illustration is not enough. The professor needs to help the prospective teacher improve skills in observation, interpretation, investigation, and application. We have
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shown one way of doing this in the higher education classroom. The method seems to be effective, and is well worth trying. No doubt other and perhaps more powerful methods can be used for the same purpose. And it goes without saying that further research on the topic is required. Finally, we described a web-based multimedia system, VITAL, that can also be used to foster skills in observation, interpretation, investigation, and application. We propose that this system, which can be used with almost any kind of topic for which video is appropriate (for example, dance, animal behavior, social development and legal cross-examination), is effective in producing the kind of reflective practitioner that we need in teaching (and in other fields). Our informal experience, as well as the results of one empirical study, supports our view. We hope that our work stimulates further development of video-based systems as pedagogical tools and research on their efficacy, particularly on the ultimate issue, namely, whether our students’ newfound skills in reflective inquiry transfer to the place they matter most: the classroom. Acknowledgementsâ•… The writers wish to thank Dan Schwartz and Jim Stigler for their extremely helpful comments on a draft of this paper. We are grateful to the National Science Foundation for their support of this work under Teacher Professional Continuum (TPC) Grant No. ESI-0353402.
References Ball, D. L. (1993). With an eye on the mathematical horizon: Dilemmas of teaching elementary school mathematics. The Elementary School Journal, 93(4), 373–397. Billig, M. (1987). Arguing and thinking: A rhetorical approach to social psychology. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press. Brown, J. S., & Burton, R. B. (1978). Diagnostic models for procedural bugs in basic mathematical skills. Cognitive Science, 2, 155–192. Eisner, E. W. (1998). The englightened eye: Qualitative inquiry and the enhancement of educational practice. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Merrill. Finocchiaro, M. A. (2003). Dialectics, evaluation and argument. Informal Logic, 23(1), 19–49. Ginsburg, H. P. (1997). Entering the child’s mind: The clinical interview in psychological research and practice. New York: Cambridge University Press. Ginsburg, H. P., Jang, S., Preston, M., VanEsselstyn, D., & Appel, A. (2004). Learning to think about early childhood mathematics education: A course. In C. Greenes & J. Tsankova (Eds.), Challenging young children mathematically (pp. 40–56). Boston, MA: National Council of Supervisors of Mathematics. Ginsburg, H. P., Kaplan, R. G., Cannon, J., Cordero, M. I., Eisenband, J. G., Galanter, M., et€al. (2006). Helping early childhood educators to teach mathematics. In M. Zaslow & I. Martinez-Beck (Eds.), Critical issues in early childhood professional development (pp. 171–202). Baltimore, MD: Brookes Publishing. Glassner, A. (2005). The supple skeleton and the rigid context: Conditions, principles and criteria for the evaluation of arguments according to the epistemological approach. Glassner, A., & Schwarz, B. B. (2005). The anti-logos ability to evaluate information supporting moral arguments. Learning and Instruction, 15(4), 353–375. Heritage, M., Kim, J., & Vendlinski, T. (2008). From evidence to action: A seamless process in formative assessment? Paper presented at the American Educational Research Association Annual Meeting. James, W. (1899). Talks to teachers on psychology: and to students on some of life’s ideals. New York, NY: W. W. Norton & Company. 1958. Kuhn, D. (1991). The skills of argument. New York: Cambridge University Press. Kuhn, D. (2001). Why development does (and doesn’t) occur: Evidence from the domain of inductive reasoning. In R. Siegler & J. McClelland (Eds.), Mechanisms of cognitive development: Neural and behavioral perspectives (pp. 221–249). Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum. Lampert, M. (2001). Teaching problems and the problems of teaching. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
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H.P. Ginsburg et al. NAEYC, & NCTM. (2002). Early childhood mathematics: Promoting good beginnings (http://www. naeyc.org/about/positions/mathematics.asp) Piaget, J. (1952). The child’s conception of number (C. Gattegno & F. M. Hodgson, Trans.). London: Routledge & Kegan Paul Ltd. Piaget, J. (1976). The child’s conception of the world (J. Tomlinson & A. Tomlinson, Trans.). Totowa, NJ: Littlefield, Adams & Co. Preston, M. D. (2008). The development of critical thinking skills using a Web-based video analysis system. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Educational Research Association, New York, NY Remnick, D. (2006). Reporting: Writings from the New Yorker. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. Schwartz, D. L., & Bransford, J. D. (1998). A time for telling. Cognition and Instruction, 16(4), 475–522. Strauss, S., & Shilony, T. (1994). Teachers’ models of children’s minds and learning. In L. A. Hirschfeld & S. A. Gelman (Eds.), Mapping the mind. New York: Cambridge University Press.
Chapter 24
Approaches to Portfolio Assessment of Complex Evidence of Reflection and Reflective Practice Nona Lyons
Abstractâ•… Today, a growing number of professionals in various disciplines seriously aspire to teach reflection and reflective practice and to use forms of assessment designed especially to tap into reflective processes at work in actual professional practice. While some researchers and teachers decry even the idea of assessing reflection, others have engaged it with impressive results. One assessment model commonly identified is the reflective portfolio, acknowledged to be one way to assess credibly practitioner performance. While portfolio assessment can be and is used for a variety of purposes and assessment needs, in professional education settings, these are likely to be for high stakes – decisions about licensure for beginning teachers, or about course or program completion in the professional education programs that have significant consequences for doctors, social workers, lawyers, etc. This chapter focuses solely on the reflective portfolio in discussing approaches to performance assessment precisely, because the portfolio has emerged in national and international settings as a signature assessment model across several diverse professions, such as teaching, lawyering, nursing, medicine, etc. Underpinning this discussion is the contrast between the new interpretive conceptualization of assessment and the standard, psychometric, aggregative model. A socio-cultural view of the world of the classroom and of assessment also shapes this work. The chapter is designed to offer an introduction to several critical issues of portfolio assessment and to address a necessary but often neglected task, that is, how to teach reflection, especially how to use a portfolio process as a scaffold for that goal. An attractive and compelling argument has been made that portfolio assessment is an authentic and valid proxy for performance. But how could this be so? How is it determined? Who decides? Using which procedures or what standards of evidence? Underlying these concerns is the question of validity: could a reflective portfolio represent a valid interpretation of a performance of practice? This also raises related questions about the standards created to frame the assessment and about the alignment between the goals of the assessment, the standards and the actual assessment tasks a candidate is asked to perform. This chapter addresses this broad set of questions in brief; however, the goal is to identify the range of assessment issues as well as approaches that portfolio assessment users can take into account in their own work with portfolio assessment. The chapter has five parts. It begins with a short historical overview of the development of the portfolio as a performance assessment with its beginnings in the last 20 years; it then N. Lyons Department of Education, University college Cork, Donovan’s Road, Cork, Ireland e-mail:
[email protected] N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_24, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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reviews a portfolio assessment process and its tasks, using as a model procedures of the National Board for Professional Teaching Standards (NBPTS); third, the chapter moves to consider briefly some of the the broader issues of the varied and changing purposes of assessment and how social, cultural, and political demands have shaped assessment; the fourth part takes up the important question of the validity of portfolio assessment, considering to what extent assessment of portfolio evidence reflects competent teaching or any professional practice performance and how assessment of that is usually approached through either an interpretive or a psychometric model; and the chapter concludes by asking why reflection needs to be taught and how a portfolio process provides a scaffold for teaching reflection as well as for developing a reflective portfolio.1
Portfolio Assessment in Historical Perspective The claim that a portfolio assessment could serve as a proxy for a teacher’s actual class room performance is the argument that historically helped to catapult portfolio assessment into prominence in teaching and later across several professions similarly concerned with performance. In the United States, it began in the reform climate of the 1980s with the clamor to find more authentic ways to assess teaching, that is, actual teaching practices and performance. With reform, it had finally been acknowledged that teachers mattered if schools were to be improved. Needed were competent teachers. But critics claimed that it is not enough that teachers be required to pass some objective test of teaching, such as the then popular U.S. National Teaching Exam. Rather, the critics – largely teachers – wanted something bolder, something akin to the prestigious board certification of competency of practicing doctors or accountants to hold for the credentialing of teachers. They also believed that board certification should be in the hands of teachers themselves. In 1987, in response to recommendations made by the Carnegie Task Force on Teaching as a Profession, a new National Board for Professional Teaching Standards (NBPTS), conceptualized and designed by Lee Shulman of Stanford University, was established largely by teachers. It immediately began to look for ways to develop new modes of assessing teaching. The Board was to establish standards for exemplary teaching practice and to develop an innovative means to award advanced level certification to teachers who met these standards. The new Board sought out Lee Shulman to develop a protocol assessment (Shulman 1998, 2004). Shulman had a national reputation for the research he had been conducting on teaching and teaching practice. Shulman set up a new research project at Stanford. Shortly after, he had an “ah haa” experience when he thought of taking a leaf from portfolios then used by architects, writers, and photographers as a mechanism to gather together and showcase their work. Could it do for teachers’ work as well, that is, could a portfolio capture the lesson plans, actual teaching materials, and student work projects? Shulman and his colleagues decided to include the idea of a portfolio in their assessment model. They also added the notion of an Assessment Center activity, that is, inviting teachers to a place where they could teach a lesson, review, and comment on a video of an actual class, or critique a new math curriculum, as part of an assessment of their competency and their content knowledge. One special feature of the new assessment process was the emphasis on a process of reflection by the teacher on his or her work, elaborating how it came about and how the results accrued or should have accrued to students. How do teachers know what their students need to know? Or what students had learned and now knew how to do? In this discussion of the history of the development of a portfolio process of assessment, I will showcase the work of the National Board for Professional Teaching Standards, because elements they have created for the portfolio development process are considered foundational and reflect those found in several portfolio assessment systems. Most importantly, the National Board has encouraged extensive testing of its results, a goal
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rarely sought or achieved by other projects.2 Recently, national board practices have been the subject of an extensive review and study of the validity of its practices. That study will be discussed more fully here later in the chapter.
Setting Standards for Certification From its beginnings, the NBPTS has devised sets of standards for determining certification in a variety of teaching areas. It encouraged experienced teachers from around the country to apply for board certification –even though they already had local state certification in order to teach. The NBPTS outlined the process. Teachers would apply and spend nearly a year preparing a portfolio of work to demonstrate standards set by the Board, then bring their work to the Assessment Center for further evaluation of their content knowledge. Since 1987, nearly 74,000 teachers have achieved NBPTS certification. There are now 25 different certification areas, developmentally oriented, such as, Adolescent – Young Adult Social Studies–History, Early Adolescence/English Language Arts, Adolescent – Young Adult Mathematics, etc.3 In 1987, the NBPTS announced its goal, one that went beyond simply determining certification to teach. Rather, the Board was determined to identify outstanding practitioners. They felt that identifying outstanding practice and recognizing those who achieve it would be important in shaping the kind of teaching profession the nation needs. This would be their core challenge in assessing candidates for such high stakes. They declared: NBPTS is a nonprofit, nonpartisan organization governed by a 63 member board of directors, the majority of whom are teachers….the NBPTS recognizes that teaching is at the heart of education and further, that the single most important action the nation can take to improve schools is to advance the quality of teaching and learning by: • Maintaining high and rigorous standards for what accomplished teachers should know and should be able to do; • Provide a national voluntary system certifying teachers who meet these standards; and, • Advocating related education reforms. The Board identified five core propositions they felt grounded the work of the NBPTS and identified aspects of practice that teachers take to advance student achievement: 1. Teachers are committed to students and their learning; 2. Teachers know the subject they teach and how to teach those subjects to students; 3. Teachers are responsible for managing and monitoring student learning; 4. Teachers think systematically about their practice and learn from experience; 5. Teaches are members of learning communities (NBPTS 2001, pp. v–viii). Similar detailed standards are identified for each phase of the assessment and individuals are coached through the process they need to complete. The NBPTS standards for the Social Studies–History certificate illustrate an example of the full set of standards for the content range and dispositions called for in a set of discipline-based standards. The candidate in Social Studies–History would have to address each of these when applying for certification, including I. Knowledge of students; II. Valuing Diversity; III. Knowledge of Subject Matter; IV. Advancing Disciplinary Knowledge and Understanding; V. Promoting social Understanding; VI. Developing Civic Competence; VII. Instructional Resources; VIII. Learning Environments; IX. Assessment; X. Reflection; XI. Family Partnerships; and XII. Professional Contributions (NBPTS, 1998/2001, pp. 5–6)
But there was to be something quite different about the new portfolio assessment model. It would pay attention to the contexts of teaching, asking candidates for certification to discuss the contexts of their teaching, the settings in which they taught, and to describe the
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students, who they were, the communities they lived in, the hopes of their parents, the social capital students brought from their homes and communities to learning, etc. Teachers were not simply to answer some standardized test questions. They were to critique and analyze how a curriculum worked, describe the kinds of thinking a student needed, and what they actually could do. The goal was to identify the meaning individuals made of the complex processes of learning and teaching, and how they interpreted these tasks (Shulman 1998, p. 25–37).
The Portfolio Assessment Tasks: Addressing the Standards, Gathering the Evidence of Teaching and Learning A portfolio assessment process usually begins by identifying a set of standards. But equally important is the gathering of evidence that a candidate believes demonstrates how teaching practices meet the standards and how students achieve in the teaching program. In the NBPTS model, teachers prepare their portfolios to address the standards by videotaping their teaching, gathering student learning products and other teaching artifacts, and providing detailed analyses and reflections on their practice. At the assessment center, teachers will write answers to questions about the content knowledge of their subject area. The National Board has identified what it values in this portfolio process. “The portfolio is designed to capture teaching in real-time, real-life settings, thus allowing trained assessors from the field in question to examine how teachers translate knowledge and theory into practice. It also yields the most valued evidence NBPTS collects – videos of practice and samples of student work. The videos and student work are accompanied by commentaries on the goals and purposes of instruction, the effectiveness of the practice, teachers’ reflections on what occurred, and their rationales for the professional judgments they made” (NBPTS, 1998/2001 p. viii). Further, assessment center exercises complement the portfolio evidence. They validate what is captured in the portfolio. From them can be determined how and why knowledge is used
Here in the NBPTS model are the critical elements of the credentialing process that would be similar to other programs of portfolio assessment with similar goals: the identification of standards that frame a teaching assessment agenda; the gathering of evidence of teaching and student learning, with student projects, teacher presentations, including rich descriptions as well as videos of teaching; detailed analyses of practice and how it works; and finally, reflections on the process and learning that teachers have encountered and mastered. The demands of the portfolio maker are for clarity, creativity, and completeness as well as curiosity about the processes of teaching and learning.
One Candidate’s Experience What is this experience like for a candidate? One NBPTS candidate, Nancy Larson, has written about her experience. Nancy, who lives in Idaho, was in 2001 a candidate for the Middle Childhood Generalist certificate. She documents a range of emotions she experienced in what she calls “Six stages of Certification,” a piece she wrote that is published online by the National Board for Professional Teaching Standards. Nancy acknowledges that she began with a “Yes, I can do this;” fell into despair at some points over the year it took her to complete the portfolio; and really “freaked out” when she realized that a video of one of her classes had a flaw and she had to remake it with a new lesson. Nancy credits the help of her five colleagues in Idaho who met regularly as they prepared their portfolios and their assessment center activities. When the group gathered for the box-packing day to send in their portfolios, they celebrated. The group later felt gratified that one extensive effort they made to prepare for teaching a class on
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electricity happened to be one of the questions asked in the activity center writing tasks. Composing and publishing this article before she had heard of the positive outcome of her efforts, Nancy wrote: I’ve emerged through these six stages to consider myself a professional educator. I have an enhanced sense of quality in my teaching from the self-reflection that is built into the certification process. My self-reflection has become as automatic as brushing my teeth; I don’t have to concentrate on the process of reflection to be fresher when the job is done. Even though I am still waiting for the results, when people ask and they often do, “Would you do it again?” I have an unhesitating answer: “In a minute” (Larson, 2007, p. 2)
A Collaborative Support System for Assessment Nancy’s story illuminates other important elements of the assessment process: the necessity to gather the evidence and documentation of teaching and learning; and the critical, mandated nature of carrying out the project with the involvement of colleagues who not only give moral support, but importantly, are also a sounding board for ideas and portfolio entries. These colleagues review work for each other, listen and respond to ideas, foster ongoing dialogs and offer alternative perspectives. Today, most programs emphasize the collaborative nature of portfolio making, incorporating it into their procedures. In addition to the NBPTS model, having a time-table of mandated assessment products and when they would be due is immensely helpful. But really crucial is having enough time – the bête noir of all teachers – over the course of a year to complete a thoughtful, reflective self assessment. The NBPTS process also provides rich and extensive aids in writing – some 500 pages of instructions – to know how to proceed. Here the emphasis is on the situations of teaching and learning: the meaning teachers make of their experience and those they make of their students’ experiences. The NBPTS believes that a valid assessment process engages candidates in the rigorous activities of teaching – such as these portfolio and assessment center exercises require. But what is the evidence the Board uses to determine this claim? Some critics query: How could a portfolio capture the reality of such a complex act as teaching? Considering the enormous effort at developing an alternative assessment system, it seems important as well to ask: Why was that necessary? What has assessment been for? Had it changed? Why? This chapter next considers, however briefly, assessment itself – its origin and changing conceptualizations. It opens with a brief look at how assessment began and at some of the purposes it has served.
A Brief Review of Prior History: Assessment for What Purpose? Assessment has a long history that has differed dramatically in purpose over time. But today there is a historical consensus: “Selection has probably been the most pervasive role of assessment over the years” (Glaser and Silver 1994). Several students of this development argue that assessment for selection is designed ultimately for control (See Broadfoot 1996; Bourdieu and Passeron 1976; Yates and Pidgeon 1957, and others all quoted in Gipps 1999, pp. 360–366). Systems of examinations for selection developed over time, beginning with those first, long-ago ones created in China (206 BC). The purpose then was to select people for government service. As Caroline Gipps (1999) shows in her history of this development, it was late in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries that exams emerged again for selection purposes, this time in Northern Europe where public exams became common.
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In nineteenth century Europe, access to the professions, previously controlled by family status and patronage, became needed on a wider scale with the press toward greater upward mobility. Now the professions jockeyed to control access to training and membership through examinations. It was the medical profession in Britain that instituted qualifying exams for certification. Later, exams for solicitors and accountants followed. In the 1850s, universities set up the first entrance exams and in 1855 exams were introduced for Civil Service in Britain (Gipps 1999, p. 35). Assessment for selection and certification had a key role to play in several countries. In America, selection for government jobs was introduced in an effort to curb patronage by politicians. And selection within U.S. school systems also took hold. It happened largely through the development of IQ testing. Supported by the IQ movement first established in France when Binet published his intelligence test in 1905, testing was to be used to determine those who would be considered able for education as well as those who were uneducable. Children tested were identified as “bright” or “dull.” In the United States, IQ testing was also supported by Charles Spearman, who fanned interest by writing extensively on intelligence. At this time, intelligence was believed to be an entity fixed at birth and never changing. The development of objective tests for sorting students was seen on both sides of the Atlantic as important for placing students in appropriate programs of study. Since it was believed that IQ was a given and fixed, such uses were believed then to contribute to equity. But research began slowly to discover shifts in children’s performance on IQ tests, indicating that IQ was subject to change, to environments, experience, culture, etc. Today, it seems clearer that examinations also set the educational attainment of certain classes in society. Broadfoot argues: “…assessment procedures are so closely bound up with the legitimization of particular educational practices…. Assessment procedures may well be the system that determines curriculum and pedagogy, and, hence, social reproduction” (Broadfoot 1996, p. 87–88). Assessment for selection, which then became linked with certification, illustrates the power and control aspects of assessment as well as its role in the cultural and social reproduction (Gipps. 1999, p. 356). Gipps references the study from which a historical model of the functions of national examination systems of 24 countries was identified, created by Keeves in the mid-1980s (Gipps 1999, p. 356). Keeves argues that the functions of national examination systems develop from a stage of selection and certification to one of monitoring, and finally, to one of exerting policy influence on curriculum and teaching (Keeves 1994). In the United States, the No Child Left Behind (NCLB) law provides a rich case study of selection and control by the government through assessment. The NCLB law was the first national testing program initiated in the nation’s history – aside from those of selective service. However, the development of assessments such as portfolios and other authentic assessments provided an opportunity for a departure, something new, a creative line of development of assessments quite different from more clearly psychometric, “scientific” ones, that is, ones promoting an interpretive model.
Two Kinds of Assessment: What Kind of Validity? In this part of the chapter, the two models of assessment are contrasted: the traditional, psychometric conceptualization and the more recently developed interpretive conceptualization. The argument presented here is that both have been used in assessing portfolio evidence. Although the NBPTS follows an aggregative, psychometric model, some teacher or professional portfolios are more appropriately assessed using an interpretive approach. Each program and its assessors must decide which model is appropriate for their purposes. Both models are discussed here as well as why the development of validity theory is important to the viability of portfolio assessment.
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Validity theory serves an important purpose in educational assessment. “Educational assessments should be able to support professionals in developing interpretations, decisions, and actions that enhance student learning (Boud, 2007). Validity usually refers to the soundness of those interpretations, decisions or actions based on the evidence available in an assessment, and the soundness of interpretations, decisions, and actions.” (Moss et€ al. 2006, p. 109; Moss 1998, p. 201). Measurement experts consider it necessary to support these claims by rigorous and critical review of the procedures.
A Standard Psychometric Approach Validity theory in educational measurement, for the most part, has been grounded in an epistemological understanding of what is called a standard or unified conception that “maintains that the social sciences should approach the study of social phenomena in the same ways that the natural sciences have approached the study of natural phenomena” (Martin and McIntyre 1994, pp. xv–xvi). That is, the primary goal is law-like, generalizable explanations or predictions. In contrast is an interpretive approach, currently fast developing, characterized by the significance of the meanings of social phenomena: Furthermore meanings are embedded in complex social contexts that shape what can be understood. The primary goal is to understand what people mean and intend by what they say and do and to locate these understandings within the historical, cultural, institutional, and immediate situational contexts that shape them (Moss et€al 2006, p. 110)
This is a dramatic development, shifting profoundly the purposes of assessment, and even creating new modes of assessment itself. In the more typical approach to portfolio assessment, the psychometric, aggregative approach, there might be two reviewers independently reviewing several dimensions of a portfolio entry. Raters would be blind to other entries of a candidate. Scores would be assigned independently for individual items, which would eventually be aggregated across all elements of a portfolio. For a grade to be given, the candidate’s score would be compared with a predetermined cut score. This system has a long history in measurement. In an interpretive model, two reviewers would work independently and collaboratively, sharing evidence and discussing issues of viability. Interpretations would be constantly tested. Before elaborating the interpretive model further, I return to the NBPTS model and a recently completed study of it, because this study provides a rare example of how a portfolio assessment system can itself be assessed and in some cases challenged. Here, the NBPTS Study by the National Research Council and its results are examined in some detail. It reveals what a study of a program’s validity entails, the questions posed to it, and the responses uncovered. It seems important to acknowledge too that the National Board’s work and influence have been growing. For example, NCATE, the National Council for the Accreditation of Teacher Education, the nation’s largest national accreditation program for teacher education programs, has aligned its accreditation standards for teacher education programs with the NBPTS standards. And the curriculum standards for programs that prepare beginning teachers offered by the INTASC group, the Interstate New Teachers Assessment and Support Consortium, are also aligned with NBPTS. The recent study of the NBPTS model of teacher assessment, titled Assessing Accomplished Teaching, was completed in 2008 by the National Research Council (NRC) after some 7 years of intensive work. It is referred to here as the Study. It raised several issues and can serve as an example of issues embedded in an aggregative, psychometric approach to portfolio assessment (National Research Council 2008). Here, it is examined to consider validity challenges that can be posed to an assessment process.
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The 2008 Report of the Validity of NBPTS Assessments The 2008 report presents results of a mandated study of the validity of NBPTS way of assessing candidates for some 25 teaching certificate areas. Two things were important about the study: it was commissioned to the National Research Council to advise the Federal government, in response to the federal government’s request. The report addresses the validity of advanced-level of teacher certification practices. It presents a newly devised framework of criteria to evaluate programs that award advanced–level teacher certification and applies it to an evaluation of the work and programs of the National Board. The report claims that their recommendations are directed to the NBPTS, but they also acknowledge that the approach should apply to any program that offers advanced-level certification to teachers. The charge to the National Research Council in this study was to address a wide scope including the following issues: 1. The impacts on teachers who obtain board certification, teachers who attempt to become board certified but are unsuccessful, and teachers who do not apply for board certification. 2. The extent to which board certification makes a difference in the academic achievement of students; and, 3. The cost-effectiveness of advanced-level certification as a means of improving teacher quality. Validity assessment usually begins with the questions the assessors want to address. Most likely, these are ones that link assessment processes to expected or hoped-for outcomes of the programs under scrutiny, in this case the NB’s assessments of highly accomplished teachers. The newly devised Evaluation Framework for the NBPTS is structured around eight sets of questions based on the hypotheses about the way a program for certifying accomplished teachers might improve teaching. For example, the standards with several examples of the associated hypotheses indicate the kinds of questions the study undertook: 1. Specification of the content standards and development of the assessments. To what extent does the certification program for accomplished teachers clearly and accurately specify advanced teaching practices and the characteristics of teachers (the knowledge, skills, dispositions, and judgments) that enable them to carry out advanced practice? Does it do so in a manner that supports the development of a test that is well aligned with the content standards? 2. Technical characteristics of the assessments. To what extent do the assessments associated with the certification program for accomplished teachers reliably measure the specified knowledge, skills, dispositions, and judgments of candidates and support valid interpretations of the results? To what extent are the performance standards for the assessments and the process for setting them justified? 3. Participation of teachers: To what extent do teachers participate in the program? 4. Impact on outcomes for students: To what extent does the advanced-level certification program identify teachers who are effective at producing positive student outcomes, such as learning, motivation, school engagement, breadth of achievement, educational attainment, attendance. And grade promotion? 5. Impact on participating teachers professional growth: To what extent do teachers improve their practices and the outcomes of their students by virtue of going through the advanced-level certification process? 6. Impact on teachers career paths: To what extent and in what ways are the career paths of both successful and unsuccessful candidates affected by their participation in the program?
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7. Impact on education system: Beyond its effects on candidates, to what extent and in what ways does the certification program have an impact on the field of teaching and the education system? 8. Cost-effectiveness: To what extent does the advanced-level certification program accomplish its objectives in a cost-effective manner, relative to other approaches intended to improve teacher quality? (National Research Council 2008, p. 3). While this report acknowledges that the NBPTS had been much discussed in policy literature, nearly 200 articles were identified and discussed. However, the Study declares: “the majority of the documents do not report on empirical research and only a handful reveal valid findings related to the questions in our charge” (National Research Council 2008, p. 3). The Study did review all of the eight questions identified: the standards, the Board’s assessment techniques, the processes for scoring assessment exercises, etc. Overall the Study declared: “We judge that the Board has taken appropriate steps to ensure that the assessments meet professional standards and results from validity studies document that the assessments are effective in identifying teachers who demonstrate accomplished teaching practices” (National Research Council 2008, pp. 4–5). For some issues, the Study reported there was just not yet enough research information to make a judgment, for example, regarding the effects of Board certification on the lives of teachers (see note 4 to this chapter.) In reviewing the NBPTS’ set of standards for various certificates, the report highlights two concerns: one involves difficulties in obtaining documents needed for reviews – eventually resolved; and the second importantly relates to the translation of the standards statements into assessment exercises. While the content standards are written in a readable style, the language is imprecise. Translating the general statements of the standard to specific assessment exercises requires a significant amount of judgment on the part of the test developer. We recommend that the board develop more precise explanations of the standards to facilitate the work of test developer and to ensure that the assessment exercises measure the intended skills. (Recommendation 5-2; National Research Council, 2008, p. 4)
Regarding the technical characteristics of the NBPTS assessments, the Report acknowledges that: We evaluated the procedures for scoring the assessment exercises and setting the passing scores, the reliability and validity of the scores, and the extent to which the assessments fairly appraise the skills of all teachers applying
Recommendations Two recommendations of the Report are significant: “First, the portfolios that the Board uses have the advantage of providing an authentic representation of a teacher’s skills. At the same time, the scoring process for portfolio responses is less reliable than for more objective forms of assessment.” The scores are lower than that desired for a high stakes testing program. The Report recommends that NBPTS find ways to improve the reliability of the scores. Second, the Report surmises that a key responsibility of a high-quality testing program is regular evaluations. The Report cites that the national board has not devoted the same energy that went into the original assessment design…. : “We think that the board should devote more effort to continuously improving its assessments” (National Research Council 2008, p. 5). The Report goes on to address the eight questions/hypotheses posed at the beginning of the Study.4 This study and its recommendations point to an interesting problem in the light of considering an alternative – interpretive – model of assessment. One finding of the National Research Council Study group was that the language of the standards was “imprecise” and required a “significant amount of judgment” to translate into doable assessment tasks. I believe that some
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might suggest that this is precisely why an interpretive model may be a more appropriate one for portfolio assessment of performance. The interpretive model – described in the following section – expects that the judgment of assessors as of portfolio makers will be critical in all aspects of assessment of performance and of portfolio entries. Teaching, like so many other performance practices required by different professions, nearly demands judgment. Thus, we need to consider seriously an assessment model that features it.
An Interpretive Approach Pamela Moss, a measurement researcher, elaborates her argument for an interpretive approach to portfolio assessment. She believes that teaching is a complex act involving several different kinds of tasks. She sees that portfolio assessment of teaching would be a special kind of challenge: Who could best judge it? How? A portfolio is a collection of complex performances compiled by candidates to represent different aspects of their learning and teaching. It is important to ask whether the judgment of expert readers, who have become familiar with the candidate’s capabilities across multiple performances, might not result in a more valid and fair decision. For instance, to understand a teacher’s decision to use a particular instructional strategy or to respond to a student’s work in a particular way, it is important to understand the larger context in which that decision was made. What is the background of these individual students? What are the resources available to the teacher…. Similarly, with performances as complex as these, it is important to ask whether allowing assessment readers to engage in dialog about actual performances – possibly pointing to evidence that one reader has not noticed or challenging his or her interpretations with a second reader’s – might not result in a sounder decision that considers more comprehensively the complex evidence available?(Moss 1998, pp. 204–205)
Moss is arguing for an interpretive approach to validity for assessing teaching portfolios. As the case aforementioned indicates, here a single pair of readers might evaluate all of a candidate’s performance data and using all of the standards as a guide to making an interpretation. “The goal would be to construct a coherent interpretation based on the entire set of portfolio entries, continually revising initial interpretations until they account for all the available evidence. Then the readers would engage in a dialogue to arrive at a consensus decision on the candidate’s level of performance with respect to the standards or principles.” (Moss 1998, p. 205). While this approach is known as part of an interpretive tradition, it is one that has recently been gaining legitimacy. Researchers argue that an expanded conception of validity is neceÂ� ssary to support the interpretive work, especially because it is an area useful and nearly routine for the work of teachers. The real complexities of teaching – as is the case with other professions – can be addressed through an interpretive model. A typical question of interest to teachers is how a context interacts and influences learning, or similarly, how different conceÂ� Â�ptions of teaching require different kinds of evidence. Moss observes that the development of a validity theory begins with the questions being asked that can develop, analyze, and integrate multiple types of evidence, and is dynamic in the sense that questions, available evidence, and interpretations can evolve dialectically as inquirers learn from their inquiry (Moss et€al. 2006, p. 129; See also Schutz, Moss, 2004 for rare examples of actual portfolio evidence of teaching, and a discussion of how it supports or not a conception of competent teaching.) Moss and her colleagues base their work in hermeneutics and socio-cultural theory. Hermeneutics is important in that it offers a theory and practice of interpretation. Originally a practice for understanding texts, it is today used to include the interpretation of any social phenomenon. Moss asserts that “ at the most general level hermeneutics characterizes an integrative approach to combining sources of evidence in developing an interpretation…readers seek to understand the ‘whole’ body of evidence in light of its parts and the parts in light of the whole. Interpretations are repeatedly tested against the
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available evidence until each …can be accounted for in a coherent interpretation of the whole” (Bleicher 1980; Ormiston and Schrift 1990; Schmidt 1995 quoted in Moss et€al. 2006, p. 130). This iterative process is referred to as the hermeneutic circle, which, as new evidence is encountered, expands allowing for a dynamic approach to interpretation. Interpretation, suggested by Gadamer (1987), is most productively conceived as “a conversation between two partners who are trying to come to an understanding about the subject matter in question. …the art of conversation requires is not the art of arguing against the other person but the art of ‘questioning’ to bring out the strength in the other’s argument” (Gadamer 1994, p. 367). Such a socio-cultural perspective suggests how it can guide analysis of complex learning environments and the activities within them. Socio-cultural studies of learning construe learning as the interaction between learners and their environments, including all the ideas, physical tools (computers, etc.), and people, all of which serve as resources, facilitating or constraining learning. Being a member of a community is part of one’s identity and of oneself as a learner. All of this can have an effect on learning and assessment. These interactions with the social and cultural aspects must be attended to as well in assessment: learners, their environments, their social and cultural contexts matter.
Scaffolding a Reflective Portfolio and a Process of Reflection What is reflection? What are its essential features? Why does reflection need to be taught? Why is it difficult to do? What method does Dewey suggest? How can developing/creating a reflective portfolio serve as a scaffold for reflection? Most education practitioners and researchers of various disciplines date interest in reflection and reflective practice to the publication of Donald Schon’s book, The Reflective Practitioner, (1983), which also renewed attention to John Dewey’s classic account of reflective thinking, How We Think, 1933. Since then, the idea of developing reflective practitioners has been adopted by several professions, especially teaching and nursing. Yet, recently there is an increased insistence of challenges to the claims of reflective practice. Several critics say that in spite of all the promotion of reflection, many complain that it is not clear what systematic reflective thinking looks like. How is it defined? This section of this chapter takes up these issues. It reviews Dewey’s definition of reflection, his discussion of how it differs from other forms of thought and, examines the practices Dewey suggests as necessary to engage in reflective thinking and inquiry. The purpose is to offer a way to approach the subject. There is no question that there are other candidates for defining and examining reflection, for example, Donald Schon and Paulo Freire. I focus on Dewey because of his original contribution to the field. He addressed the issue of how to teach reflection and why it had to be an aim of education with clear recommendations. This section addresses Dewey’s definition of reflective thinking, how it differs from other forms of thought, its phases, and the importance of attitudes for developing reflection. It gives a view of how a portfolio can provide a road map for developing reflection and can serve as a scaffold for promoting reflective thinking.
Reflective Thinking: John Dewey’s Foundational View What is reflection/reflective thinking? What are its essential features? John Dewey in his 1933 text, How We Think, identified what reflective thinking is not and is. Reflective thinking, or inquiry as Dewey preferred calling it, is “the kind of thinking that consists in turning a
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subject over in the mind and giving it serious and consecutive consideration…”. It is not “just mulling things over.” To Dewey, reflective inquiry or thinking differs from stream of consciousness, uncontrolled ideas, mental pictures of something not present, a succession of such pictures, or a belief: “I think that…,” an assertion about some matter of fact or principle of law. Rather, reflective thought is a chain: it involves not simply a sequence of ideas, but a consequence….Each phase is a step – a term of thought (Dewey 1933, pp. 4–5). Reflective thinking aims at a conclusion. It… “has a purpose beyond the entertainment of a train of agreeable mental inventions or pictures. The train must lead somewhere; a conclusion that can be substantiated. There is nothing in the mere fact of thought as identical with belief that reveals whether the belief is well founded or not – such are prejudgments, not conclusions reached as a result of mental activity such as observing, collecting, and examining evidence” (Dewey 1933, pp. 5–7). Reflective thinking impels to inquiry. “Active persistent, and careful consideration of any belief or supposed form of knowledge in the light of the grounds that support it and the further conclusions to which it tends constitutes reflective thought” (Dewey 1933, p. 9). Such thinking implies belief in evidence, something which stands as witness, evidence, proof, warrant of belief. Dewey defined the phases of reflective thinking in several different models. One he states involves: (1) a state of doubt, hesitation, perplexity, mental difficulty, in which thinking originates; and (2) an act of searching, hunting, inquiring to find material that will resolve doubt, dispose of perplexity (Dewey 1933, p. 12).
Attitudes, the Methods of Inquiry: “But Knowledge Alone Is Not Enough: Attitudes Matter” Dewey deeply believed that attitudes matter, were indeed crucial to inquiry. Indeed, he believed attitudes were the method of learning reflective inquiry. Dewey claimed, “There must be the desire, the will to employ attitudes. But disposition alone will not suffice. There must be understanding of the forms and techniques of employing attitudes. Three attitudes that matter are: open-mindedness, whole-heartedness and responsibility. Openmindedness “is freedom from prejudice, partisanship, and such habits as close the mind and make it unwilling to consider new problems and ideas. It is not hanging a sign on the mind, ‘Come right in. There is nobody at home.’ It includes active desire to listen to more sides than one; to give heed to facts; to give full attention to alternative possibilities; to recognize the possibility of error even in beliefs dearest to us.” (Dewey 1933, p. 30–33). Then there is whole-heartedness: When one is thoroughly interested, he throws himself into it. There is no greater enemy than divided interest.
Responsibility: To Be Intellectually Responsible Is to Consider the Consequences of a Projected Step “The intellectually irresponsible do not ask for the meaning of what they learn, in the sense of what difference it makes to the rest of their beliefs and to their action” (Dewey 1933, pp. 30–33). Dewey claims that engaging in these attitudes is the method for engaging in inquiry. Reflective thinking is a meta-cognitive act, that is, it is thinking about and directing one’s own thinking. Some argue that it is a dimension of intelligence. Today, intelligence is considered influenced by neural capacity, experience, and reflective factors. It can be changed by what a person learns – thus, intelligence is learnable. Reflective inquiry can influence intellectual capacity. But practitioners also admit that reflective inquiry is hard to achieve for children and adults. Most important is that inquiry needs to be taught and could use a scaffold.
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Scaffolding Reflective Portfolio Inquiries and Entries There is a variety of ways to scaffold reflective inquiry. Reflective portfolios and learning journals/diaries are common choices. Here a five-phased model for scaffolding reflective portfolio inquiry is presented. The phases are identified to structure the creation and the writing up of an inquiry entry either for a portfolio development or even a journal. This model draws on Dewey’s ideas to suggest the five phases (Lyons 2007).
The Goal To construct an inquiry and share it with colleagues and write it up for an entry in a portfolio. The five phases are considered as related but separate phases, each with their own processes and purposes. Phase 1: Describe and Identify the Puzzle/Problem; Inquiry begins, as Dewey suggests, with a situation that is troubling or puzzling, usually associated for practitioners with an issue of practice, of teaching or learning, some trouble, an idea, project, or a person. In writing up the description, the portfolio maker should indicate: What happened, to whom? Why it is puzzling? What question does it raise/involve? No judgment is included in this phase of writing up the situation Phase 2: Analyze the Situation: Why is it Significant? What is the Question it Raises, Needs to be Addressed? Phase 3: What hypotheses are suggested? Need to be investigated? What evidence is important to collect, will be needed to test a hypothesis? Are there relevant theories? Practices to be consulted? Identify what will be done in detail? Phase 4: How is the Situation resolved? Reflect on the process: What has been learned? How does this affect professional life? Development? Practice? As the situation is resolved, reflect on the process, especially asking, What has been learned? Phase 5: Considerations for Action: What implications follow for future actions? For being responsible in Dewey’s sense of what one has learned?(Lyons 2007–9). The development of these portfolio inquiries are ways of engaging in reflective thinking. The phases allow us to analyze a problem situation, one in which our plans are blocked, to act intelligently rather than blindly. Next we can generate potential solutions, test them, and if they fail, we know we have already learned something. And can continue our search. Dewey believed “intelligent thinking entails observation of the detailed makeup of the situation; analysis into its diverse factors; clarification of what is obscure; discounting of the more insistent and vivid traits; tracing the consequences of the various modes of action that suggest themselves; regarding the decision reached as hypothetical and tentative until the anticipated or supposed consequences which led to its adoption have been squared with actual consequences. This inquiry is intelligence.” (Dewey, MW, 12:187). But needed are the attitudes: open-mindedness, whole-heartedness and responsibility.
What Is Learned? In any assessment of portfolio work, there is an implicit question: What is it that has been accomplished, learned? Outcomes are important. What difference does a portfolio practice make to those who engage in it? To the students involved? In one study that I conducted at a university involving with some 23 faculty members who submitted portfolios for an award for excellence in teaching, I was able to interview some 20 of the 23 portfolio makers.
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My goal was to ask several questions, including: Looking back over the experience of creating a portfolio of your teaching, what stands out for you? What would you say you learned from the process? What was most challenging? What facilitates the process? (Lyons 2004, pp. 36–40). Although this study deals with self-report data, there were also available portfolios as data. Here, I only report on the responses to the interview questions. The participants of the study were from different disciplines and departments across the university, including people from medicine, geology, education, etc. What was most interesting to me was that a majority of the responses of the participants, 19 out of the 20, indicated that staff valued the portfolio process for making available to them what they termed “new knowledge” of themselves and their students which seemed to be the result of an emerging consciousness about their teaching. Four other related findings were revealed as interconnected elements: Becoming more consciously aware of one’s teaching practice through critical reflection, asking “What am I doing? Why?” Nineteen of the 20 interviewees reported how they were more consciously aware of their own teaching practices, of their beliefs about teaching, and of how they were putting their courses together. This extended to asking how their courses, goals for students, etc. fit together. Other components to this idea of a new consciousness were identified. Making goals, concepts, and organizing ideas of learning more explicit to oneself and one’s students. Becoming aware of students needs as learners, coming to know what they know and understand of the concepts and contents under study. Asking: what do students know and understand of this course, lesson, etc. How can I find out? Interrogating one’s practice to discover patterns. Asking what needs to change in one’s teaching practices. Changing one’s practice: Considering: How can I make this course, lesson, project more effective? Trying out new ways of doing things. Paying attention to what one is doing. Asking for more feedback from students.
Most of the participants in the study acknowledged that they found that they actually did change their practices. While this is a small study of self-reported responses, it does point to the power of a reflective portfolio development process. It may also be relevant that at the time when faculty were working on developing their portfolios, they had available to them weekly lunchtime seminars – with lunch served – where it was possible to present ideas for what they might include in their portfolios and receive feedback from other faculty from across the university
Conclusion This brief chapter provides an introduction to a broad number of important issues of assessment of complex portfolio evidence and its validity to stand as an interpretation of actual professional practice. The subject is vast and there are important decisions to be made in taking on the assessment of portfolio evidence. There are, however, excellent sources of information and of research being carried out today. In my view, especially useful is the new work in support of the interpretive conceptual model of assessment, a model seemingly well fitted to the use of portfolio evidence of teaching or other professional practice. Pamela Moss and her colleagues have been pursuing this subject and offer an excellent starting place for expanding understanding and ways of approaching the assessment and validity of portfolio evidence of teaching and student learning. The work of reflective inquiry is and can be daunting as can coaching others through a reflective portfolio process. The discussions of this chapter offer ideas and resources as
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well as cautions about how to engage and proceed in the process. They reveal too both the challenges and the potentially satisfying achievements that can be experienced by becoming or fostering another in becoming a reflective inquirer.
Notes 1. While many of the portfolio assessment examples used in this chapter are of teaching portfolios, equally relevant are the practices of portfolios of social workers, occupational therapists, doctors, nurses, etc. All require assessment of performances. However, each portfolio needs to be examined for its particular purposes, etc. These similar concerns for performance assessment has helped to make portfolio assessment practices so attractive across professions. In this discussion, I use teaching performance as a proxy for all kinds of professionals performance. 2. Although the National Board for Professional Teaching Standards (NBPTS) has been conducting and promoting tests of the validity of its claims for its standards and portfolio and activity center assessments, it has also been the subject of an intensive study by the National Research Council, Assessing Accomplished Teaching: Advanced-level Certification. The study came about at the request of the US Congress in cooperation with the US Department of Education to evaluate the impact of the NBPTS overall efforts. This study is discussed in this chapter, addressing the highlights of this important piece of work. (See National Board for Professional Teaching Standards Information from Answers.com (2/13/09) for an extensive review of studies and articles on this testing along with a bibliography. Retrieved http://www.answers.com/national-boardfor-professional-teaching-standards 2/13/09. See also the articles cited here in the References of Pamela Moss’s work, especially for the assessment of portfolio evidence and how raters resolve ambiguous data.) 3. The NBPTS has an extensive body of information on certification, NBPTS standards for some 25 teaching areas, guidelines for applying for certification, and extensive materials for guiding candidates through the assessment process. (See, for example, 2008 Guidelines for Applying to National Board Certification. To apply online see www. nbpts.org.) In addition to the work of the NBPTS, there are many other models of standards for portfolio assessment. Nearly every professional group has assessment protocols usually available on line. It is useful, too, to examine the work of INTASC, the Interstate New Teacher Assessment and Support Consortium, a group sponsored by the Council of Chief State School Officers to similarly create standards and assessment systems for portfolio assessments directed to state agencies. The Study of NBPTS completed in 2008 and reported in this chapter revealed that INTASC as well as NCATE has aligned their standards for curriculum (INTASC) and for assessment of teacher education programs with NBPTS (see details in section “Two Kinds of Assessment: What Kind of Validity?” of this chapter). 4. To examine the findings of the NBPTS Study of the eight questions, go online for the National Research Council site and call up the Assessing Accomplished Teaching: Advanced-Level Certification Programs at httpz;/www.nap.edu.
References Bleicher, J. (1980). Contemporary hermeneutics: Hermeneutics as method, philosophy, and critique. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Boud, D. (2007). Reframing assessment as if learning were important. In D. Boud & N. Falchiko (Eds.), Rethinking assessment in higher education. London: Routledge.
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N. Lyons Broadfoot, P. M. (1996). Education, assessment and society. Buckingham: UK Open University Press. Dewey, J. (1933). How we think. New York: Houghton Mifflin. Gadamer, H. G. (1987). The problem of historical consciousness. In P. Rabinow & W. M. Sullivan (Eds.), Interpretive social science (pp. 82–140). Berkeley: University of California Press. Gadamer, H. G. (1994). Truth and method. (G. Barden & J. Cumming, Trans.) New York: Seabury (Original work published in 1975). Gipps, C. (1999). Socio-cultural aspects of assessment. In A. Iran-Nejad & P. David Pearson (Eds.), Review of research in education (Vol. 24, pp. 355–392). Washington, DC: American Educational Research Association. Glaser, R., & Silver, E. (1994). Assessment, testing, and instruction: Retrospect and prospect. In L. Darling-Hammond (Ed.), Review of research in education (Vol. 20, pp. 393–421). Washington, DC: American Educational Research Association. Keeves, J. P. (1994). National examinations: Design, procedures and reporting. (Fundamentals of Educational Planning No. 50). Paris: UNESCO. Larson, N. J. (2007).NBPTS: Six stages of certification. Retrived from www.nwp.org/cs/public/ download/nwp. Lyons, N. (2004). The centrality of reflective engagement in learning and professional development: The UCC experience. In A. Hyland (Ed.), University College Cork as a Learning Organization. Cork, Ireland: University College Cork. Lyons, N. (2007). Scaffolding Reflective Inquiry, pamphlet created for the Scholarship of Teaching Project. Cork: University College Cork. Martin, M., & McIntyre, L. C. (1994). Introduction. In M. Martin & L. C. McIntyre (Eds.), Readings in the philosophy of social science (pp. xv–xxii). Cambridge: MIT. National Board for Professional Standards (1998–2001, 2008). Newsletter. Moss, P. A. (1998). Rethinking validity for the assessment of teaching. In N. Lyons (Ed.), With portfolio in hand: Validating the new teacher professionalism. New York: Teachers College Press. Moss, P. A., Sutherland, L. M., Haniford, L., Miller, R., Johnson, D., Geist, P. K., Koziol, S. M., Star, J. R., Pecheone, R. L. (2004). Interrogating the generalizability of portfolio assessments of beginning teachers: A qualitative study, Education Policy Analysis Archives, 12(32). Retrieved [1/15/09] from the http://eraa.asu.edu/epaa/v12n32/. Moss, P. A., Girard, B. J., & Haniford, L. C. (2006). Validity in educational assessment. Review of Research in Education, 33, 109–162. National Research Council. (2008). Assessing Accomplished Teaching: Advanced-Level Certification Programs. Committee on Evaluation of Teacher Certification by the National Board for Professional Teaching Standards. Milton D. Haskel, Judith Admonson Koenig, Stuart W. Elliott (Eds.), Board on Testing and Assessment, Center for Education, Division of Behavioral and Social Sciences & Education. Washington, DC: The National Academic Press. Rodgers, C. (2002). Defining reflection: Another look at John Dewey and reflective thinking. Teachers College Record, 74(4), 842–866. Schon, D. (1983). The reflective practitioner: How professionals think in action. New York: Basic Books. Shulman, L. (1998). Teaching portfolios: A theoretical activity. In N. Lyons (Ed.), With portfolio in hand: Validating the new teacher professionalism. New York: Teachers College Press. Shulman, L. (2004). The Wisdom of Practice: Essays on teaching, learning and learning to teach. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Schutz, A., & Moss, P. A. (2004). “Reasonable” decisions in portfolio assessment: Evaluating complex evidence of teaching [online]. Educational Policy Analysis Archives, 12(33). Retrieved [1/15/09], from htt89p://eaa.asu.edu/12n33. Schutz, A., & Moss, P. A. (2004). “Reasonable” decisions in portfolio assessment: Evaluating complex evidence of teaching [online]. Educational Policy Analysis Archives, 12(33). Retrieved June 1, 2006, from http: “epaa.asu.edu/v12n33.
Chapter 25
Reflective Practice as Conscious Geometry: Portfolios as a Tool for Sponsoring, Scaffolding and Assessing Reflective Inquiry in Learning to Teach Anne Rath
Introduction
Well first of all you kind of separate your teaching experience and your life experience. But because of the nature that we were asked to reflect on things, because of, if you were actually doing it in earnest, that reflection, it just doesn’t feed into your teaching practice, it feeds into your life. So the two of them, they kind of mix and meld. And if you are earnest about it, there is no chance to stop it. Because your mind is constantly going on things that have gone wrong and constantly going on things that have gone right. And trying to work out these things, why has it gone right, if I do something in a slightly different way will it improve and what will happen? And then you are trying to use that, you kind of use your experience of something that has gone right and might add something to get it to a deeper level or adjust it in some way. Or something that has gone wrong and you try to adjust that at a deeper level. Since you are constantly thinking about it, even if you are sitting down having a bite to eat at home, it’s in your subconscious. I began to sort of think of it like a conscious geometry in everything I was doing. I was thinking about it and it fell into a structure. There’s theory and practice and then your adjustments. And it is confusing at times but in the end with your engagement there’s a multiplicity of ideas and the themes emerge from that engagement. And its like in the end, the themes are like bullet points and it all becomes very, very clear at the end of the year. In thinking about it (the teaching problem) and how I was caught, I was able to resolve it. So I think if you are in earnest about it, you can’t really separate being a teacher and being a person. You can if it’s a career, but if it’s vocational they can’t be separated at all…I suppose the priesthood in Ireland would be a type of vocation. Like that’s not necessarily... well a priesthood is probably a calling from God, or whatever. But in my own life, it’s a call from the circumstances I lived through. To be able, for me to live and work in my life, and to have that work validate my own experience, to give something back. But with the full knowledge that it’s not totally altruistic, because it’s validating someone else’s experience at the same time it is validating my own (Brian, Preservice teacher).
A. Rath University College Cork, Cork, Ireland e-mail:
[email protected] N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_25, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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I begin this chapter with an extended quote from an interview with Brian, a Postgraduate Diploma in Education (PGDE) student who is reflecting about the impact of compiling and presenting a reflective portfolio at the end of his preservice year. Brian’s extract frames some of the key principles and learning processes involved in portfolio production that are the focus of this chapter. I argue that the portfolio as a signature pedagogy in teacher education can explicitly communicate and enact the social and cultural practices that are valued in the field of teacher education. Reflective engagement in inquiry is framed here as a key skill, knowledge, and stance in learning to teach. I present a series of narrative vignettes of preservice-teachers’ reflections on learning to teach as a way to argue that the portfolio, as a pedagogical structure, can sponsor and support the kind of intellectual and emotional engagement in ongoing learning that is necessary for the new professional (Cochran-Smyth and Lytle 1999; Darling-Hammond and Bransford 2005; OECD 2004, 2005). Within the context of these vignettes, I also describe a series of pedagogical interventions that have been consciously designed to sponsor and support student teachers to experience reflective engagement as a critical generative professional tool. Learners’ active engagement in their own practice problems or teaching cases, constructed from their own concerns, problems, puzzles, is legitimated by the portfolio assignment as an assessment task. However, I argue that the portfolio can become a contrived assessment performance unless reflective engagement is adequately mentored and supported by a pedagogy that promotes a discourse of inquiry orienting them to the knowledge bases underpinning quality teaching and learning. The learning culture is designed to make student cases, generated from their own teaching practice problems, more complex and problematic, so that novice teachers experience “thinking about teaching” as a social practice, and come to value inquiring about their own taken for granted “knowledge” and assumptions about teaching, students, curriculum and so on. Research from different professional fields demonstrates that novice professionals may completely overlook essential aspects of practice in their observations and reflection on experience (Bereiter 2002; Boshuizen, 2003; Eraut 2007; Korthagen, 2001). Indeed, in their anxiety to solve problems of practice, novices may project their own unconscious assumptions and beliefs onto the teaching context thereby foreclosing learning and development, or expect “quick fixes” from expert others (Nakkula and Ravitch 1998; Britzman 1991). Novice concerns, often of a personal nature, are rarely framed within larger interpretative frameworks of the professional field of practice, such as subject/disciplinary matter, students’ life experiences, ethical/moral imperatives, teaching standards, and curriculum guidelines. A key point here that novice teachers need environments that are designed to induct them into discourse communities with peers and experts who are committed to interrogate the experience of teaching as a mode of inquiry and as a social and practice and where such examination of practice becomes shared and public. The modeling of reflective engagement as a series of active engagements with practice questions, aptly described in Brian’s opening statement, is framed here in terms of viewing teaching as a scholarly activity (Boyer 1990). Shulman (1998), argues that teaching becomes scholarship if it is made visible, shared with others, and accessible for exchange and use by others. I argue that the portfolio process in sponsoring these practices attempts to do just that. The narrative vignettes and pedagogical interventions presented here are selected as a narrative exemplar, which Lyons and LaBoskey (2002) define as “models of inquiry for others to try in their own settings” (p. 11). They define narrative practices as “intentional, reflective human actions, in which teachers with their students, other colleagues or researchers, interrogate their teaching practices to construct meaning” (p. 21) leading to changed practices. A key assumption and goal underpinning these strategies are to create a context for learners to actively participate in the social and cultural practices of a field in
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order to develop an activist professional identity as a teacher (Day 2002; Sachs 2003). Reflective engagement in the analysis of practice is recognized as a foundational and necessary capacity for teachers to function as professionals in dynamic, fluid, and uncertain professional contexts within global knowledge based societies (Ball and Cohen 1999; Darling-Hammond and Bransford 2005; Day 2002; Fullan 1999; Fulton et€al. 2005; OECD 2005; Sawyer 2006; Stigler and Hiebert 1999). Within the context of knowledge based societies there is a call for knowledge workers with deep conceptual understanding of complex concepts, and the ability to work with knowledge creatively to generate new ideas, new theories, new products, and new knowledge (Bereiter 2002; Hargreaves 2003; OECD 2004, 2005; NBPTS 2008; Sawyer 2006). There is a growing recognition that current models of education are ill equipped to deal with the needs of highly complex and globalized economies, and that educators need a “new theory of mind” that views thinking as a social practice that is developed through engagement with “real life problem-solving” (Bereiter 2002; Sawyer 2006). Reform oriented theorists have critiqued standard education models that were constructed for an earlier industrial age and structured pedagogically and philosophically around a “knowledge acquisition-knowledge transmission” metaphor. Arguing for the radical restructuring of professional learning environments they promote a view of knowledge and practice as social, contextualized and constructed (Putnam and Borko 2000; Loughran 2006). The turn to a view of knowledge as social construction calls for critical, adaptive, reflective learners, who have mastered the ability to access and critique knowledge, apply it in highly complex dynamic professional settings, negotiate the inherent tensions and ethical dilemmas involved in such work, and stay committed to such intellectual engagement has been identified as of paramount importance in new mobile, diverse societies (Cochran-Smyth and Lytle 1999; Kuhn 2005; Darling-Hammond and Bransford 2005; Loughran 2006; Putnam and Borko 2000; Seely-Brown 2005; Wenger 1998; Zeichner 2006). Sawyer (2006) in a recent edited volume on the learning sciences draws together a body of research on learning that foregrounds learning as highly interactive, situative, reflective, and social. Essential to this view of learning is a view of knowledge as distributed across contexts, people, technology and culture. Echoing others in the field, he identifies reflection and the articulation of ideas in community with others as one of the most important research branches in these new learning sciences: One of the reasons that articulation is so helpful to learning is that it makes possible reflection or metacognition – thinking about the process of learning and thinking about knowledge. Learning scientists have repeatedly demonstrated the importance of reflection in learning for deeper understanding. Many learning sciences classrooms are designed to foster reflection, and most of them foster reflection by providing students with tools that make it easier for them to articulate their developing understandings. Once students have articulated their increasing comprehension, learning environments should support them in reflecting on what they have just articulated. One of the most central topics in learning sciences research is how to support students in educationally beneficial reflection (p. 7)
This chapter takes up this issue and explores the potential of the portfolios to sponsor, support and assess the kind of “educationally beneficial reflection” that can be appropriated as a meaningful professional tool or skill for novice teachers in understanding, analyzing and improving practice in order to become such knowledge workers. In addition, how do learners commit to value and enact reflection as a tool to navigate the complexity of teaching and its multivariate knowledge bases, build repertoires of practice and expertise, and build learning identities that are committed to such intellectually and emotionally challenging work? Moving back to Brian’s opening statement is informative at this stage. I use this vignette to illuminate one of the key consequences of critical reflective engagement that student–teachers commonly report, that is, that it sponsors a new consciousness and awareness about themselves as teachers and what matters to them, and also a consciousness of
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knowledge and practice as dynamic and shaped by their engagements in documenting, interrogating and changing practice in intentional, deliberate ways. Zeichner and Gore (1990) argue that the central purpose in critical approaches to teacher education is “to bring to consciousness the ability to criticize what is taken for granted about everyday life” (p. 331). In addition, a common misconception about reflection is that reflection is about “thinking or feeling” but in this vignette Brian describes it as an action oriented practice of engagement. Participants commonly resort to metaphor as a way of explaining this transformation.
The Portfolio as Sponsoring a Conscious Geometry in Developing an Identity Brian employs a powerful metaphor to depict how the reflective process influences his learning; reflection acts like a conscious geometry. He likens reflection to a powerful tool that helps him navigate his way through the confusion and complexity of practice problems, suggesting that Brian has begun to value reflection as a professional tool “to use” his experience in order to bring it to a “deeper level.” The portfolio sponsors his thinking about practice in particular ways that dispose him to reconsider his practice and adjust it accordingly – “because of the nature that we were asked to reflect.” The nature of the portfolio project as a required assignment becomes a generative creative context for an ongoing engagement – “Since you are constantly thinking about it, even if you are sitting down having a bite to eat at home, it is in your subconscious.” Brian feels competent to go “deeper” into understanding his teaching adjustments and assessing their effectiveness in relationship to theory – “There is theory and practice and then your adjustments. And it is confusing at times but in the end with your engagement there is a multiplicity of ideas and the themes that emerge from that engagement…and in the end the themes emerge like bullet points and it all becomes very, very clear at the end of the year.” In this segment, Brian places theory and practice and his adjustments on a similar plane, signifying that he is begining to theorize his practice in generative ways and move back and forth between different knowledge positions – the concrete moment of his experience and the abstract codified knowledge that has mapped a learning field. The ideas that emerge from these engagements are “like bullet points” which calls to mind the kind of “identity work” or “stories to live by” that form a productive foundation for future development and growth (Clandinin and Connelly 1998; Cochran-Smyth and Lytle 1999; Day 2002; LaBoskey 2002; Rodgers and Raider Roth 2006; Zeichner 1999; Zembylas 2003). The articulation and meaningful engagement with experience, and its context, gives Brian permission, as a novice teacher to enact and imagine an identity and a vision of himself as a teacher: the backdrop for this vision or stance is his own recollected and reconstructed past as a learner: – “a call from the circumstances he has lived through;” a reconstituted past that becomes another lens or reference point for Brian to stake out a space or negotiate a stance in relation to “learning to teach” and its multivariate parts. Thus, I suggest that the portfolio gives Brian, and other participants introduced later, a forum to become conscious of their own subjectivity and how it shapes and is shaped by context. Brian identifies reflection as a tool for adaptive practice – “because your mind is constantly going on things that have gone wrong and constantly going on things that have gone right. And trying to work out these things, why has it gone right? If I do something in a slightly different way will it improve and what will happen?” By doing so, Brian experiences how knowledge is generated from that engagement – “there is a multiplicity of ideas and the themes emerge from that engagement.” This implies that the construction of the portfolio authors a new sense of agency and identity in naming his world and developing
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the intellectual tools to work through practice dilemmas. Brian underscores how the portfolio sponsors a stance and view of teaching that is inquiry oriented – “because of the nature that we were asked to reflect on things…if you were doing it in earnest, that reflection, it just does not feed into your teaching practice, it feeds into your life. So the two of them, they kind of mix and meld.” This suggests that Brian’s personal investment of meaning in learning to be a teacher, forges strong links between the personal and professional, spheres that have traditionally been separated (Alsup 2006; Britzman 1991; Clandinin and Connelly 1999). As Britzman (1991) argues identity is always socially negotiated and dialogically constructed. It requires one’s personal investment and consent. The process of articulating the meaning of learning to teach through the portfolio provides a forum for students to become aware of their commitments and values and consciously live them out in their teaching identity. For Brian, the portfolio process provides a structure for this knowledge to emerge and become conscious. The practice of “trying to work out these things,” that is, engaging with the consequences of his teaching and making the necessary adjustments, points to a teacher who constructs a teaching identity that is generative and generous to both himself and his students, “To be able to live and work in my life and to have that work validate my own experience. To give something back. But with the full knowledge that it is not totally altruistic, because it is validating someone else’s experience at the same time it is validating my own.” The narrative practices that the portfolio sponsors and supports, including the interview itself, give Brian the discursive tools that empower him, as a novice, to question, adjust, and evaluate his practice against an emerging teaching identity that frames teaching as something to “give back” and “validate” students’ experiences, albeit acknowledging that in giving something back, he is necessarily validating his own experience. Later on in the interview he selects particular stories to tell in constructing this identity, including his own reconstituted story of being a 14€year old school drop-out, who at 18 years faced a judge in a court of law, who gave him the choice of going back to school or going to prison – a story of meaning that he now interprets as an act of care on the part of the judge. He also depicts his teachers as “saints” who managed to negotiate his “challenging behavior” in school to help him finish. Brian now brings this story of care to frame his efforts to negotiate troublesome students in his own classroom. Just as Vivienne Paley (2005) argues that fantasy play is the very lifeblood of young children’s work, helping them write their concerns into the mainframe curriculum narrative of early childhood education and giving them important interpretative tools for engaging in learning, I argue that the portfolio structure provides similar tools to student teachers since it legitimates a personal investment in learning to be a teacher. This personal investment motivates Brian and others to map their questions, puzzles and concerns onto the larger canvases and discourses of teaching and learning, giving them interpretative tools to understand and transform themselves as beginning teachers. Brian’s choice and use of “conscious geometry” as a metaphor is telling. The word conscious denotes awakeness, alertness and knowing. Geometry is one of the oldest foundational sciences and is defined by the Merriam Webster dictionary as “a tool to measure the properties and relationships between points, lines, angles, surfaces and solids.” Thus, “a conscious geometry” implies that Brian’s engagement creates opportunities to map the properties and relationships between his teaching adjustments, goals, and outcomes in a knowledgeable way suggesting that he understands that knowledge of teaching is complex, and cannot be bestowed but emerge from conscious engagement. A number of themes emerge from this segment. First, the portolio sponsors a “way of being” in the world of teaching that legitimates and validates Brian’s earnest engagement in reflection on the meanings he brings to learning to teach from his “life experience” on the one hand, whilst at the same time sponsoring his reflection on his “teaching practice” and its relationship to
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“theory.” Brian’s repetition of the word “earnest” (three times in this segment) echoes Dewey’s 1933/1998) argument that reflective thinking demanded attitudes of wholeheartedness, responsibility and open-mindedness. Second, engagement generates a responsibility and confidence in reconsidering and adjusting practice, with a commitment to track consequences asking questions such as: “And trying to work out these things, why has it gone right. If I do something in a slightly different way will it improve and what will happen?” This suggests a disposition to care about how practice impacts on student learning (Noddings 2003). This disposition resonates with a growing research literature on the need for teacher education to be focused on the development of robust professional identities equipped with the tools of critical reflection, action research and committed to a social justice agenda (Cochran-Smyth 2004; Giroux 1988, LaBoskey 2004, Lyons and LaBoskey 2002). Finally, the use of metaphor to articulate meaning suggests that reflection engages the personal investment of learners in ways that are transformational. Participants often resort to metaphor in their bid to articulate the impact of the reflective process on their view of themselves as teachers. Maxine Greene (1994) argues for the centrality of agency and consciousness in learning and suggests that metaphors allow us as human beings to imagine new worlds, agency, and practices. According to Greene metaphor is “the center of language and the nature of imaginative thinking may be best illuminated by viewing it in terms of metaphor. Imagination after all, is the cognitive capacity that allows human beings to construct alternative modes of being, to look beyond the actual in their own experience, to envisage what might be if things were otherwise” (p. 456). In this chapter, I argue that the portfolio sponsors and supports the novice teacher to imagine and transform themselves into agents who can actively participate in shaping teaching practices and discourse. As a critical teacher educator my goal is to develop the kind of critical pedagogy that “treats students as critical agents” and “makes knowledge problematic,” in order to frame teaching as intellectually critical work in changing oppressive structures and institutions and creating a more socially just world (Giroux 1988). In the next section, I map how a critical hermeneutic model alongside a sociocultural theoretical framework relates to the reflective inquiry sponsored by the portfolio process described here. A sociocultural framework is used to underscore the importance of context in shaping the participation, discourse, and identity work of group members who engage in this portfolio work. This is brought into conversation with a critical hermeneutic framework which attends to the self of the teacher/learner as an interpretative lens and committing to a view of teaching and learning as essentially interpretative acts. Attending to the interpretations and lived experience of teachers and learners is viewed as essential in order to build more extended interpretative frameworks that address epistemic, developmental, and critical stances that may run counter to viewing teaching as interpretative work (Belenky et€ al. 1997/1986; Britzman 1991; Kegan 1982). Both theoretical frameworks, sociocultural and hermeneutic, clarify the contextual and developmental processes that underpin transformation and development.
Theoretical Framework As stated above, there is now a large body of research on learning that has identified reflection and the articulation of meaning as vitally important for knowledge generation. However, there is often a disconnect between what we know about effective learning and how we enact this in learning environments (Bereiter 2002; Kuhn 2005; Sarason 1996). There is still confusion and a lack of a shared understanding and commitment to provide the resources for developing the richly layered teacher education environments that reflective engagement requires for both teacher educators and their students (Loughran 2006;
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Zeichner 2006). Within a “knowledge acquisition” structure, reflective learning can be routinely characterized as a set if techniques or skills tacked on as an addendum and enacted as a set of isolated and disconnected exercises (Alsup 2006), or as a set of exercises framed within the private personal musings or feelings of the learner (Fendler 2003; Bleakley 2000). Parker 1997 has argued that reflection as a concept and practice has been hijacked by a “semantic sleight of hand” and appropriated by a technical rational agenda to serve instrumental functions. He points out that any kind of “thinking about” practice is now described as reflection and all teaching becomes reflective, often serving corporate and technical ends (p. 30). One of the persistent problems with developing conceptual clarity about reflective practice is complicated by the debate and contestation around the content, goals and optimal setting of teacher education as well as the lack of scholarship around teacher education practices (Cochran-Smyth and Zeichner 2005; DarlingHammond 2006; Feiman-Nemser 2001; Korthagen 2001; Loughran 2006; Zeichner 1999). In recent years, there has been a concerted effort to empirically study reflection and to bring conceptual clarity to its definition (Conway 2001; Fendler 2003; Korthagen 2001; Lyons 2006; Rodgers 2002). Carol Rodgers (2002) explicates Dewey’s (1933) conception of reflective thinking and extrapolates four key characteristics. Reflective thinking includes thinking that is (1) systematic and rigorous, (2) done in community, (3) is about meaningmaking of participants, and (4) requires attitudes of wholeheartedness, open-mindedness, directness, and responsibility. These four criteria are central to the reflective engagement as described here since they foreground processes and engagement rather than technical skills. In the same way, they attend to the dispositions of the learner and acknowledge the need for a public space to reflect in community underscoring the relational field of learning. For Dewey, reflective teaching is viewed as knowledge generating and justifying thinking in light of evidence is an important criterion for reflective thinking. This is an important aspect of creating a teaching portfolio since the portfolio author must produce evidence of their enactments in the practice site, thus, requiring them to translate and articulate their interpretations to a community of peers. In teaching reflective engagement, I construct an environment that manifests these four criteria. What I am arguing here is that reflective engagement in inquiry be viewed as a set of organizing learning principles underpinning program goals, curriculum and pedagogical strategies and connected to larger discourses and knowledge bases (Alsup 2006; Darling-Hammond and Bransford 2005; Loughran 2006; Shulman 2005; Zeichner 1999). A number of theorists have advocated for “powerful” teacher education where a systemic approach aligns learning designs, pedagogy, and assessment structures (Clarke and Rust 2006; Darling-Hammond 2006; Wiggins and McTighe 1998; Wilson and Berne 1999). Coming from a social constructivist theoretical base, powerful teacher education develops teachers into reflective lifelong learners with strong professional identities who can engage productively and generatively with the complexity that characterizes teaching and learning in all contexts (Connelly and Clandinin 1999; Cochran-Smyth and Zeichner 2005; Day 1999; OECD 2005). The development of portfolios in teacher education as a way to enact and scaffold a reflective learning curriculum has gained much currency in recent years spanning a broad spectrum of contexts and countries including innovative work in the USA, UK, The Netherlands, Ireland, and Israel (Farr-Darling 2001; Freidus 1998; Gahye 2007; Grant & Huebner 1998; LaBoskey 1997, 2002; Lyons 1998a, b, c, 2002, 2006; MansvelderLongayroux et€al. 2007; Orland-Barak 2005; Rath, 2000, 2002, 2006; Shulman 1998; Wade and Yarbrough 1996; Zeichner and Wray 2001). Lyons (1998a, b, c, 2002, 2006) body of work on the portfolio process as both a medium and method of reflective engagement has been particularly informative since it foregrounds the need for the careful construction of pedagogical scaffolds. This scaffolding provides a crucial formational context for guiding the careful documentation, inquiry, articulation, and evaluation of teaching performances.
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A sociocultural frame is implicit in this body of work since it acknowledges the power of participation in a community of practice in shaping learning identities and practices. Changes in participation are based on situated negotiation and renegotiation of meaning in the world of practice (Lave and Wenger 1991; Wells 1999; Claxton & Wells 2002; Wenger 1998). Lave and Wenger (1991) argue that meaning is mediated through the relations between “old-timers” (experts) and “newcomers” (novices) and “the activities, identities, artifacts, and communities of knowledge and practice” that mediate the newcomers’ full participation (p. 29). Newcomers’ movement from “legitimate peripheral participation” to full participation is mediated by the activities, artifacts and communities of knowledge and practice. The sociocultural focus on activities and artifacts resonates well with the portfolio process, since student–teachers as newcomers, are regularly asked to bring classroom artifacts such as lesson plans, assignments or student work to their portfolio presentations with peers and tutors. These artifacts, if narratively constructed and presented, are viewed as “carriers” of meaning since the newcomer has to articulate the meanings, intentions and consequences of their use in the particular classroom. Novices are guided into bringing these reflections into conversation with larger interpretative frameworks such as curriculum guidelines, subject-based knowledge, or conceptual frameworks from philosophy, psychology, or sociology. Thus, theoretical knowledge is experienced as being a lived interpreted experience and a tool to interpret and illuminate problems of practice. Newcomers are inducted into participating in these larger discourses in order to extend and challenge their perspectives and reconsider practice decisions in light of theoretical knowledge. The centrality of experience and prior knowledge in building expertise is viewed as crucial. Trajectories of learning take account of learners’ motivation, their misconceptions and their ability to participate in these discourses. However, within a sociocultural framework, the central idea of “newcomers and oldtimers is limited since,” student–teachers inhabit multiple shifting identities, including the dual identities of both “newcomer and old-timer” status, as they bring with them many years of experiencing schools and classrooms as learners, an “apprenticeship of observation” that indelibly shapes what they bring to learning to teach and their negotiation of participation in these contexts (Lortie 1973). A critical hermeneutic cycle is useful to excavate these tacit and unconscious interpretations since its focus on the individual’s interpretation in their negotiation of meaning and context is brought into sharp focus. Learning to teach is very different in this one respect from the other professions since this long experiential history shapes ideas of teaching and learning. Nakkula and Ravitch (1998) describe teaching as applied development work and provide a useful model and definition of hermeneutics: Hermeneutics as a theory of living, as a means of understanding the essence of human being might be considered a natural theory of life, one grounded in and derived from two of the most central functions of human development: the ongoing “interpretation” and “articulation” of everyday experience. Interpreting and articulating experience is what we do in all aspects of our existence; from formal learning or the conducting of research to the specialized practice of professional work such as counseling, education, and youth development’ (p. 4)
Viewing teaching and learning as applied development work within a critical hermeneutic frame highlights the multiple and complex reciprocal relationships between conscious and unconscious knowing, teaching and learning, self and others, self and context, self and experience, and self and action. It frames teachers’ own interpretative frameworks within a complex web of contextualized meanings and history, and as a legitimate subject to be interrogated in the search for more elaborated, ethical and responsible frameworks that inform professional decisions and actions in order to better meet the needs of students. The hermeneutic framework also affords the idea that “articulation” of experience is a necessary process in order to clarify meaning and raise consciousness of the necessary
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Â� partiality of such meaning-making. Articulation or “naming the world” is either afforded or not afforded in learning to teach. It is argued here that traditional teacher education framed within a knowledge acquisition frame leaves much of this articulation to the private sphere thus foreclosing learning about the complex knowledge, history and practice that is embedded in the practice site and the participant’s interpretation of it. Very often student teachers are left to individualize problems as their own failures or more dominantly as the failure of their students (Britzman 1991). The portfolio in sponsoring the articulation of problems in a public space affords the student teacher the opportunity to experience their own interpretations, and by doing so subject them to inquiry, thereby allowing them to experience new constructions, perspectives and dimensions of the problem through reflective inquiry in a public space committed to such interrogation. Among other things this allows for the excavation of the biases and prejudices that are necessarily a part of human being. In the articulation of these interpretations in a legitimated public space, there is an acknowledgment that these views can run counter to many of our “espoused” views and stances. The present silence around the complexities of practice serves to reproduce teaching and learning cultures that continue to be oppressive to marginalized students in our education system. Problems that are routinely framed around a deficit frame that individualizes the learning problem to reside in deficits of community, family or students can be challenged into more complex framings. A critical perspective takes as given the power relations embedded in teaching and learning and seeks to actively uncover the history of routine practices in teaching and learning and transform dominant discourses, practices, and biases into more inclusive ones. Thus, a critical hermeneutic frame is concerned with educating a stance or identity that is committed to creating dialogical relationships that works toward the transformation of these unequal social relations. In viewing teaching acts through a hermeneutic lens, the “interpreter” or self of the teacher is at the center of the interpretive process, thus underlining the need for the teacher to take seriously their own biases, prejudices and feelings in interpreting, designing and enacting teaching and learning. However, this self-focus is not an end in itself. This has been a common misconception of reflective practice where it has been dismissed as solipsistic and overly concerned with the self as an end point (Bleakley 2000). Rather, the focus on the self as a subject of inquiry deliberately acknowledges that much of our knowledge is tacit and unconscious but is nevertheless a powerful influence on practice and perspectives (Britzman 1991; Kegan 1982; Nakkula and Ravitch 1998). The hermeneutic framework linked to an intentional community of practice seeks to bring this tacit, unconscious knowledge to the fore in service of becoming a more critical and responsible member of a professional community that is committed to situating their own “knowing” as tentative, partial and necessarily biased. This teacher education work acknowledges that the self can be used both as a site of resistance as well as a site of transformation (Zembylas 2003). This is particularly necessary within the context of learning to teach since the preconceptions that student teachers bring to this learning are particularly tenacious and resistant to change (Day 1999; Sugrue 1997; Wideen et€ al 1998). Within a transmission learning culture, teachers have been dominantly identified with knowing rather than learning identities. I maintain that appropriating a professional learning identity is a necessary step toward committing to a stance of reflective engagement in inquiry about teaching. Knowledge based societies demand learners who are adaptive and who view knowledge generation as incremental, constructed and complexly linked to context (Day 1999; Hargreaves 2003). This chapter argues that the reflective portfolio as envisaged here, if part of a coherent “theory of education” (p. 14, Fullan 1999), can function as a pedagogical and curricular strategy in teacher education to develop teachers with professional learning identities that have appropriated reflection as a tool to engage in the analysis and improvement of teaching practice, in order to generate context specific refined knowledge that enables them to make adjustments to meet higher order learning goals in settings that have become more
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complex and diverse. Fullan (1999) argues that reformers need a “theory of change,” that is, a set of strategies for achieving learning cultures that embody the theory of education espoused. In this chapter, I suggest that the reflective portfolio as a “signature pedagogy” offers an organizing tool for teacher educators to interrogate their own teaching practices as sites for transformation and development in the teacher education field. Shulman (2005) defines signature pedagogies as pedagogies that signify and foreground the practices and values in a field forming the habits of mind, heart and hand for novices. Signature pedagogies attend to building congruence and dialogical bridges between the different contexts of learning to teach and thus foster the habits of mind (thinking), heart (commitment and caring), and hand (doing or enactment). In the next section, I will describe the context in which I teach and describe the portfolio structure. I will then go on to situate novice teacher reflections within three problems in learning to teach whilst also presenting a selection of pedagogical interventions that seeks to address these problems specifically. Through some case studies of student teachers reflecting on their learning, I detail some of the problems/misconceptions that learners bring to the experience of learning to teach and argue that this needs to be a key focus for teacher educators. Two key questions anchor this discussion: What are the possible meaning-making trajectories, perspectives and learning processes that student teachers map through the portfolio process? What are the necessary scaffolding tools that help novices to value the practice of reflection and with what consequences for the construction of teaching and learning identities?
Context in Which I Teach The Post-graduate Diploma in Education is a 1-year post-graduate program in the Republic of Ireland (ROI) that certifies teachers to teach in second level schools. Most students have attained an honors degree and access to the course is competitive since, unlike many other countries such as the US and UK, teaching in Ireland is still held in relatively high esteem (Coolahan 2003). Up until 1999 teacher education in Ireland had not undergone any major national review since the foundation of the State, despite intense curricular reform at first and second level and societal change at all levels. A national review of teacher education (1999-2001) critiqued the theory-practice divide and the over reliance on a transmission model of teacher education. It called for a radical restructuring and repositioning of practice as a central focus in teacher education. It especially called for more reflective learning environments with more structured conceptual, explicit, and structural partnerships between schools and universities in enacting teaching practice (Byrne 2002). However, there has been no public debate on this document and the Department of Education and Science has failed to publicly endorse or initiate any discussion or debate on teacher education since the Review was published. This has left a vacuum around the direction, goals and standards in teacher education generally (Conway et€al. 2008). This is now a major focus of the newly formed Teaching Council. However, it is clear that many teacher educators have been introducing reflective learning components in their programs (Harford & MacRuairc, 2008; Rath 2002, 2008; UBUNTU 2006, 2008). In the program described here there is an annual intake of 220 students every year. Students will spend on an average of 6€h a week in large lectures, 2€h in smaller student cohorts in subject methods classes, varying each year depending on the student intake, and a 1€h weekly tutorial facilitated by their teaching practice supervisor. The supervisor will visit students in their teaching practice schools and observe them teaching approximately five to six visits during the year. A second supervisor is also assigned who will visit their classroom on the third visit. An overarching program goal is to develop student teachers
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as reflective practitioners. This is particularly a focus of tutorial work and it is in the tutorial that students present their reflections and portfolio entries and receive formative feedback.
The Portfolio The portfolio was introduced in this program in 2000, replacing a previous reflective journal. The goal of the portfolio was to develop reflective practice as a key capacity and to integrate theory, knowledge, and practice. A series of six to twelve lectures as well as weekly tutorial support, supervision visits and conferences, and bi-weekly microteaching classes are the main pedagogical supports for the portfolio. The portfolio as it is currently constructed consists of five different components. The first component is a teaching statement that requires students to articulate their understanding of what it means to be a teacher and to map the development of that understanding over the course of the year, framing this theoretically with key readings in the field. Included in this is the mapping of their initial assumptions, values, and preconceptions on learning to teach and how this has developed over the year. Students must create three portfolio entries that are selected by them to document significant learning and development of their teaching. Each entry consists of an abstract that clearly states the problem/issue to be addressed, a reflection of up to 1,500 words, and evidence of classroom enactments and applications that are clearly explained and contextualized. Evidence can come in many forms including class planning, reflective journal entries, supervision reports and feedback, reading, microteaching reports, supervision feedback, student work and so on. The reflection must clearly integrate the meaning and interpretation of the writer and must justify and connect the practice interventions and conclusions to theoretical readings and professional requirements. Finally, students must prepare a concluding statement that reflects on their overall development in the year and the key themes that they have addressed in the portfolio, synthesizing what they have learned and the meaning of that learning for them now and their future.
Methods For the purposes of this chapter I draw mainly from a data set that consists of a mixture of narrative approaches including interviews, reflective logs, questionnaires, email communications and portfolio texts from five student teachers Brian, John, Tim, Mary, and Ann (pseudonyms). Participation in this study was voluntary and participants were informed that they would not be identified in any publications. In addition, identifying markers would be removed from texts and interviews. Interviews, which were conducted after the completion of all examinations, were open-ended in nature and focused on the impact of the construction on their sense of themselves as teachers. Interviews varied in length from 45 to 90€min and were transcribed in full. Participants were invited to bring their portfolios with them and talk through the significance of various entries. For this chapter I chose teachers who I had multiple data sources to draw from including portfolio drafts, conversations, reflections on tutorial, lecture activities and transcribed interview texts. This choice was arbitrary and therefore these cases are not representative but rather show snapshots of the meaningmaking trajectories of student teachers in this context. My formal relationship with these 4 students differed in terms of intensity of interaction and relationship. For example, Brian was a member of the large portfolio lecture group whereas Ann was my supervisee and therefore I had a more intense sustained relationship with her throughout the year.
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Learning to Teach: Addressing Three Problems A recent publication identified three persistent problems in teacher education: (1) The misconceptions about learning to teach that student–teachers bring with them from their experience as students, (2) The problem of enactment in practice, and (3) The problem of complexity (Darling-Hammond and Baratz-Snowdon 2005). Following I will focus on each in turn and argue that each provides the teacher educator with a “problem of practice” that can provide useful entry points for reflective engagement. Misconceptions as an Entry Point in Reflection The misconceptions that students bring to learning to teach are the foundation upon which all future learning is either assimilated or rejected. These internalized structures or “archetypes” accumulated from long “apprenticeships of observations” are very often unconscious and lead to strong assumptions and beliefs about the nature of teaching and learning, shaping a future teacher’s orientation to teacher role, view of knowledge, students, goals, practices and processes (Feiman-Nemser 2001; Lortie 1973; Richardson 1996; Sugrue 1997; Wideen et€al. 1998). Richardson (1996) in her review of research on teacher beliefs and attitudes concludes that teacher education is a “weak intervention” given the strength and tenacity of teacher beliefs from their previous life histories as learners. She defines beliefs as “psychologically held understandings, premises, or propositions about the world that are held to be true” (p. 103). These beliefs often include an orientation to teaching and learning that is framed around a teaching for transmission stance, a stance that dominates learning environments (Belenky et€al. 1986; Freire 1970; Sarason 1996). This orientation is highly problematic since it greatly impacts on the intellectual and developmental ability of student–teachers to situate themselves reflectively in learning to teach from the new more challenging perspective of knowledge as socially constructed and distributed across contexts and people. The first goal is to develop teachers’ consciousness of how these archetypes impact on their approach to learning to teach. Here is how Ann remembers how she first became aware of what she brought to learning to teach: My first reflective experience during my year as a student teacher was in our first tutorial where we were asked to reflect on our ideal classroom. This was something that I had never really thought about as from my experience of classrooms, they were all organised and set up in the same manner. The teacher’s desk was at the top of the room facing the students’ desks that were put in rows. So when I was asked to draw my ideal classroom, I thought about what I might like to do that was different but at the same time made sense to me in a learning environment. So I placed all the desks and chairs around the room in a circle with the teacher’s desk integrated in between the students. In this way all the class would be facing each other and it would create more of an open learning environment where we could discuss issues openly. It also created more of a team environment where the students and the teacher together created or formed a team, a team of learners and creators of knowledge. (Ann)
Ann describes how the act of being asked to draw an ideal classroom creates a space for her to think about how she would like to frame the work of teaching and learning. The activity also helps her excavate the “teaching archetypes” that she brought to teaching where her “experience of classrooms were organized and set up in the same manner. The teacher’s desk was at the top of the room facing the students’ desks that were put in rows”. The drawing, as a cultural tool and the conversation around it, helps her articulate some of the values that she brings to teaching – a circle of learning, an open learning environment for discussion, a team environment where teachers and students are both learners and creators of knowledge together- values that are threaded through her portfolio work and her teaching practice throughout the year. However, her first impression of reflective writing was to resist it and she questioned why write about something that she already knows:
25â•… Reflective Practice as Conscious Geometry The reflective process has had a huge impact on me personally as it is a very new learning experience for me. The idea of reflective practice seemed like a lot of hard work to begin with. I had first thought why ask myself to write about something that I already know about and I know what my thoughts are on this.
For Ann the reflective process uncovers a self that is a site of “resistance” – “Why ask myself to write what I already know about and what my thoughts are.” This is a common stance in teaching reflective engagement. Novices often do not view “knowing” as interpretation. The portfolio process and tutorial conversations serves to give permission to inquire into this “knowing” and to uncover the roots of the resistance to question what is “known.” This process also animates a self that is willing to commit to transforming this knowledge and to try and enact practices out of a deeper value system. Ann’s reflection leads her to excavate the meaning of her ideal classroom drawing. She makes a connection between her values of sitting in a circle, working as a team to her experience of being a sports coach, a valuable context that she draws on to give meaning and substance to her view of learning. In addition, she integrates readings, lectures, supervision conferences, into a stance that she now can commit to in her professional life. In the excerpt below, it is the reflective process that underscores her learning and that allows her to make meaning. She understands the difference between “hearing” about something in lectures and actually trying to get the kind of understanding in mathematics that she desires in her students. She also realizes that you can be successful in the Irish educational system without really understanding: As a Mathematics and Business teacher I didn’t really have much interest in reflective thinking in the way I imagined an English or Music teacher might. Nevertheless I found that the process was the most beneficial part of the course. Working on the portfolio has made me a better mathematician, a better economist and a better teacher, because I finally understood what it meant to create your own meaning out of a subject. I had been hearing about constructivism for six months (in Lectures) without really having a clue what is was about but now I feel that the whole thing has become clear to me. During the portfolio process I learned how I could be successful in the system without really understanding. I also learned how to now get the understanding of mathematics that I desire, and to help my students to create that understanding for themselves. I feel that I am representative of the type of person the Irish Education system produces. I met with success in mathematics in secondary school and therefore felt I must have a good understanding of it. I learned this year that this was not really the case. A person truly learns by reflecting on themselves.
The Problem of Enactment: Theory-Practice Divides The second identified problem is the “problem of enactment” where teacher education must teach student–teachers to “think like” teachers but also to put what they know into action in contexts that are highly diverse and varied in terms of resources, students, and learning cultures (Kennedy 1999). Traditional models of teacher education have been critiqued for the theory-practice divide and their lack of attention to how knowledge learned in the university site is enacted in practice. The transfer of theory to practice is a highly complicated transaction and it is the one that needs careful structuring and coaching. In traditional “sink or swim” models beginner teachers are largely left on their own to do this complex work (Feiman-Nemser 2001). The theory-practice divide often leads to the stance of dismissing theory as unhelpful since student–teachers are given little support in translating theoretical concepts to practice or productive strategies for engaging with this complexity. Instead, the advice from “real” teachers who are working in “real” classrooms seems to be more apt. Thus, the enactment of teaching becomes disconnected from two powerful knowledge sources; on the one hand the theoretical knowledge base of teaching and what we know about teaching and learning, and on the other hand, the knowledge that can be generated from a careful analysis and reflection on the experience of teaching.
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One of the key pedagogical interventions in my tutorials is to require student teachers to develop assessment for learning (AfL) strategies and to design assessment tasks that clearly give the students opportunities to develop their knowledge, skills and confidence that are valued in their subject area. Informed by Wiggins and McTighe’s (1998) concept of “backward design,” assessment is promoted as a key “design/ enactment/evaluation” task in learning to teach. Student teachers are introduced to this literature in lectures and are encouraged to design assessment tasks that are adapted to learning goals and that clearly identify the key concepts that are viewed as “essential” in their subject area. The AfL literature highlights conceptual clarity and connections between topics, peer and selfassessment, formative feedback, assessment criteria, justification of their focus through reading curriculum guidelines, careful looking at student work over time, and providing lots of opportunities for the students to learn and practice the skills that they need in order to succeed. A final task is that they develop an assessment rubric for and with students. These pedagogies help student teachers gain confidence and competence in the design, enactment, and evaluation of student learning. Furthermore, it demands that they engage with central concepts in their subject area. These assignments are linked to the production of evidence from their classroom work for portfolio entries where they are constantly prompted to reflect on: (1) “What are the students learning?” (2) “How do I know what they are learning?” (3) How does this inform my practice? In this instance, Ann reflects on what she learned from having to do this work. As a Business Studies teacher teaching Consumer Rights to a first year group of students in the second level, Ann designed a performance of understanding class where the students had to develop a role-play and enact it in class, demonstrating their knowledge of consumer rights law. She also had to develop an assessment rubric with her students that clearly explicated the kind of knowledge and processes that should be included in the presentation, such as, subject knowledge, clear presentation, dialogue, group work, etcetera. To do this Ann with her students had to look carefully at curriculum guidelines, key questions in the area, past examination papers, and read AfL theory: Since developing a rubric of my own, I have found that rubrics not only help the students by providing a scaffold to help structure their work but it has also helped me as a teacher to identify the specific aims that I want the students to achieve. By creating a rubric, I was forced to identify what criteria I was expecting from the students in a given topic, while also focusing on potential weaknesses at the other end of the spectrum in terms of what I was teaching them, thus setting an immediate standard for me.
In this passage Ann is clearly able to link teaching and assessment in explicit ways. The rubric focuses her attention on what knowledge she values whilst also directing her attention to her responsibility as a teacher. The rubric is a context for her to notice gaps in her teaching- “potential weaknesses.” It also gives her students direction on where to put their attention “identifying what good work is” and assisting them in becoming more “organized” and “systematic”: By creating this rubric, I was able to identify and eliminate grey areas that may arise and hence improve on the scaffolding I provided for students to learn what was important. As my expectations were made explicit to the students, this gave them a definite direction in which to go. Based on our group presentations, I can see how rubrics are beneficial across all subject areas and provide structured ways to teach what is important -be it in the science lab, a field trip in geography, or writing an essay. Rubrics show students what is expected, identifying what good work is. Communication is a key feature. Rubrics also assist students in becoming more organized as they are learning how to do this in a systematic way and be able to take ownership of their work.
This enactment in practice and the links to curriculum frameworks, reading around skill development in Business Studies, and readings around active learning give this novice teacher a confidence to share it with the other experienced teachers in the school, who became interested in also developing rubrics, beginning a new conversation around “practice”
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which is a rare occurrence in Irish schools. Thus, this student–teacher, a “newcomer” becomes a resource for the “old-timers” in her school which increases her participation in teaching and gives her a confidence and ownership of her development. At the same time, she is working toward creating a learning environment for her students to “take ownership of their work” there is a parallel process happening for her as she takes more steps to become a competent teacher. The design of teaching tools such as assessment rubrics and assessment tasks produce artifacts that become contexts for sharing practice and articulating meanings, interpretations, and adaptations. It also shapes a new identity of the teacher as “curriculum designer,” giving novices some tools and new vantage points to critique textbooks and workbooks. The Problem of Complexity Finally, the problem of complexity has been well documented by researchers of teacher learning. The classroom context presents the teacher, novice and veteran alike, with a constant stream of multifarious dilemmas and competing goals, all requiring decisions and resolution in the moment. McDonald et al., (1992) called this complexity the “wild triangle of relations” between teacher, student and subject, with the points of this triangle continuously shifting. He critiqued traditional teacher education for the “conspiracy of certainty” that prevails much of its focus. In similar fashion, Lampert (1985) in her famous essay describes how engaging with the complications and uncertainties of teaching unfold a knowledge base that builds the resources of teachers to adopt multiple and contradictory perspectives on “pedagogical dilemmas,” whilst at the same time living with and holding such complications as the very ground that generates productive learning. In this holding place, a teacher’s own professional identity and self can be formed as different perspectives, beliefs, and commitments are illuminated in the engagement with the complications of experience, self, practice and theoretical frameworks. Theories and ideologies often juxtapose problems as competing and dichotomous alternatives and thus reduce this complexity in the search for conceptual clarity, linearity, and rationality. For example, theorists often juxtapose child-centered approaches versus curriculum centered or equality versus excellence, suggesting a linear, bounded and resolvable dilemma that requires decision-making around good or bad. This can orient the teacher toward the resolution of dilemmas quickly, thus, short-circuiting a more productive learning relationship to the problem. Engagement with the complications of practice that do not easily resolve themselves in the search for the “right” or most efficient result, form and hone the very dispositions, skills, and knowledge bases that adaptive expert professional exhibit in practice (Britzman 1991; Eraut 2007). Lampert characterizes these competing dilemmas of teaching as “entangled webs of contradictory goals.” She argues for a certain kind of deliberation between the scholarly world that produces theory and the world of practice that produces “practice problems.” A teacher needs to be literate in both worlds and be the instrument that is able to harvest knowledge and insights from both resources whilst staying with the particulars and contextualized complications of the situation in all its complexity. Moving back and forth between the world of practice and the world of scholarship in order to inquire into the nature of practice fosters in the inquirer a useful sort of deliberation; it enriches and refines both the questions one asks about teachers’ work and the attempts one can make to answer them (p. 285).
It is this “moving back and forth” between two worlds of very different approaches to knowledge generation that characterizes reflective engagement, that is, the scholarly world of theory generation on the one hand, that if removed from practice concerns becomes abstract, reified and arid, and the messy world of practice on the other hand that if not theorized can become routine and technical. In this chapter, theory building is viewed as a social
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practice and reflective engagement in lived experiences that are inscribed with personal and professional meaning-making as theorizing. The searching for the resolution of, and engagement with, lived problems is central to reflective thinking (Dewey 1998). According to Schön (1983), it is in the “indeterminate zones” of practice that promises most in terms of professional development and artistry. However, another “moving back and forth” is also suggested, that is, the moving back and forth between the self or subjectivity of the teacher and the external environment, that happens simultaneously as one moves between theory and practice. The teacher’s self, as meaning-maker who interprets the “world of teaching practice” and decides what to select as a “problem” to focus on, is communicating herself to the world in two ways – her interpretation of the problem and her articulation of it to the world of practice. By doing so, she must situate herself reciprocally to both the world of practice and theory. In order to teach teachers to engage productively with this complexity and build professional identities that take responsibility for the ethical and moral decisions that are pervasive in teaching, teacher education must prepare the ground for beginners to engage with these “shifting relations” and “entangled webs of contradictory goals” as a matter of urgency. A pedagogical strategy introduced to student–teachers is to teach them to view practice problems or events from at least four dimensions in order to practice living with an event from different perspectives. Three different models are introduced as heuristic devices to help scaffold students’ reflections. These are: 1. Seidel (1999) four ways of looking – looking back at an event (and describing the context), looking in (personal interpretation), looking out (at practice and professional context), and looking forward (to a planned action as a result of inquiry). 2. Schwab’s (1969) 4 Commonplaces of teaching – Seeing an event through (a) Subject Matter, (b) Teacher, (c) Student, and (d) Context/Social Milieu. 3. Brookfield’s (1995) lens model of reflective learning – (a) Autobiographical work, (b) Seeing an event from the perspective of a student Student Eyes, (c) Theoretical Frameworks, or (d) Other Colleague’s Eyes. All are used to help the students map the complexity of practice contexts and situations and to practice seeing the world through different lenses/perspectives. Thus, a student may inquire into a problem by looking at it through the eyes of a student which will necessarily entail finding out the meaning of an incident from the student’s point of view, or for viewing a problem through the point of view of a subject matter specialist. I encourage students especially to develop strategies for learning the meaning of an event from their students’ point of view as this is particularly an overlooked part of teaching. In some cases, student– teachers interview their students to learn their point of view, or simply introduce formative feedback strategies such as the 1-min essay at the end of a class, to discern the meanings students make of a class, or they may design their own survey instrument.
Problem-Setting: Reflective Protocols as Tuning Instruments for Practice A key problem in teaching reflective practice in my context is the fact that the portfolio lecture consists of a large lecture with 220 students. How can one authentically engage with this task and engage with the interpretive frameworks that students bring with them? I have been engaging with this for a number of years and have experimented with a number of strategies. One of the key ways I have addressed this is by the development and use of reflective protocols as a way to make the reflective process transparent and visible. McDonald et€al. 2003, describe protocols as being similar to tuning instruments in building productive language
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communities, as in “tuning up the instruments” and also “tuning to a different frequency” (p. xiii). The protocol structure provides context for structuring the kind of thinking and talking that will elicit reflective inquiry and engagement and for disengaging students from judging, evaluating, or offering advice. They describe protocols thus: Protocols force transparency. By specifying, for example, who speaks when and who listens when, protocols segment elements of a conversation whose boundaries otherwise blur. They make clear the crucial differences between talking and listening, between describing and judging, or between proposing and giving feedback. In the process, they call attention to the role and value of each of these in learning, and make the steps of our learning visible and replicable (p. 5)
These protocols are tuned to different tasks highlighting different learning processes, but they are always tuned to excavating “insider perspectives” in order to make practice knowledge explicit. Protocols require learners to slow down the process of examining practice in transparent ways so that the gaps and uncertainties unfold, allowing for deeper engagement and perspective taking. Thus, protocols can be used to examine classroom artifacts such as assessment tasks, student work, feedback, presenting a portfolio entry, or the design of assessment rubrics. In the following vignette, two students, John and Mary, reflect on the learning from experiencing one of these learning protocols adapted to help students “Present a Problem of Practice” in a large lecture format. I have adapted this from McDonald et€al. to fit into a 1€h lecture slot. I use it to model reflective inquiry and to help student–teachers describe the many components and contexts of a problem – actors, context, subject, teacher’s intentions, role, and problem – as fully as possible. Briefly, the protocol has six steps: Step 1: Presenter begins presenting a problem of practice as fully as possible. The remaining students listen actively and become consultants to the presenter. Step 2: The students, in consultant role, ask clarifying questions or questions that elicit further description of the problem. The purpose here is to come to shared understanding of the problem and its complexity. Step 3: Consultants reflect back to the presenter what they have heard and understand about problem. Step 4: The presenter is asked to respond to what he has heard and offer any further clarification as necessary. Step 5: The consultants brainstorm and think aloud about possible next steps to take in this inquiry. Stems such as: “Have you thought about… or What if…?” are elicited. Step 6: The presenter responds to this and shares how his or her thinking has changed or what possible action she or her is committed to taking as a result of this inquiry. Step 7: Reflection on what we have learned as a group with a special invitation to link it with their own experience and theoretical concepts. John presented his “problem of practice” in the large lecture hall. He later wrote about this experience in a portfolio entry entitled “Constructivism outside the classroom,” describing it as a pivotal turning point in learning to be a teacher. When I invite class members to present a “problem of practice,” which I define as “something from practice that is puzzling – an incident, an event that you would like to explore,” there is usually a long silence and a great reticence to share any practice issue in the public domain. I have experimented with multiple strategies, including working in dyads and inviting some of my tutorial students to make a presentation. I also invite former students to present their portfolio entries and to especially focus on the actions they have taken to solve practice dilemmas and uncover their meanings. In this instance, I give them a presentation protocol to scaffold their presentation. All these strategies are in service of creating a “language community” that offers enough “cognitive and emotional ‘thrust’ that temporarily wins some distance” from those themes/issues that we are subject to, or from which we see the
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world, in order to help them become an object of inquiry, an important step toward transforming it (p. 7, Kegan and Lahey 2001). Kegan and Lahey underscore the “form” our language use takes rather than the content. The forms of speaking we have available to us regulate the forms of thinking, feeling, and meaningmaking to which we have access, which in turn constrain how we see the world and act in it. Some language forms concentrate more individual and social energy than others do; they provide more focus, increase direction, and enhance capacity (p. 7)
I am cognizant of the fact that presenting a practice problem is a risk-taking action for both students and teacher educators, especially since there is no pedagogical footprint from which to draw. The lecture hall footprint where the “lecturer” professes to know and transmit expert knowledge to students is a well worn footprint, and it takes some time for students to “trust” that using the lecture hall space for collective inquiry on a practice problem is a worthwhile endeavor. On this particular day, John put up his hand almost immediately, and he had a particularly belligerent tone. He began by being very dismissive of the use of the space in this way and of reflective practice and the portfolio project as a whole, stating that he thought it was a “waste of time.” He stated that he did not think anyone could help him as he had talked to many people – teachers in the school, his tutor, and other peers – and nobody was able to help him. I asked him would he be willing to trust this space enough to explore the particular problem at hand. He agreed and then described an incident in his geography class where he caught a student cheating on a class test. This particular student whom he described as a “troublemaker” was constantly in trouble with all the teachers in the school and especially with John. He described the emotional impact of finding this student openly cheating. He tried to be very calm and gave her an exercise to write an essay on why she thought it was okay for her to be disrespectful to him and to cheat in the exam. She created a big fuss in the classroom saying that she was not cheating, and that furthermore he was constantly picking on her. For John, this was the end of the road. He insisted that she write out an explanation. The next day instead of an explanation, she came in with a note from her mother who requested a meeting with him. He was seething with anger. Here is an excerpt from his journal entry: The mother’s note sickened me as I immediately feared that there would be a confrontation and I feared the worst. The next thing I felt was anger and contempt for this girl, not only had she lied her way out of trouble, but I felt disgusted that she took the coward’s option with getting the note from her mother. I was extremely shaken by this and I feared I would not be able to teach the rest of the class but I managed.
He was very angry and emotionally charged in his presentation and it was clear that he had not planned to present the practice problem in public. Rather the exigencies of the problem as he was experiencing it in the moment prompted him to present. The rest of the portfolio class continued through the steps of the protocol. As the protocol was engaged, John became less judgmental and more attuned to describing more and more aspects of the context in which the problem was generated. The rest of the student cohort posed questions, asked for clarification and so on. The protocol allowed him to view the problem from different angles each one allowing him to “suspend judgment” in order to understand his own experience. By the end of the inquiry, he had “reframed” the problem in quite a different way, a key goal that reflection can serve (Schön 1983). Instead of viewing the meeting with the parent as a “confrontation” and his role being to defend himself, he began to entertain other possible alternatives, such as becoming curious about the motives and intentions of the student’s mother. This experience gave him the space to entertain the idea of building a partnership bridge between his student’s world and the world of school. He moved from being reactive and feeling wronged, to becoming a teacher who looked for solutions and took on a leadership, adult-like role. In the following, extended excerpt John writes of the meaning of this intervention in his development as a teacher:
25â•… Reflective Practice as Conscious Geometry I soon realized that the process of ‘making sense’ only begins when teachers confront the uncertainties of their work which in turn lead me to the idea that reflective practice is more than just thinking of practice, it is the synthesizing of information to come up with rational answers to any set of problems/dilemmas that may be arising in the classroom. A prime example was me sharing how a particular student in my geography class had become a heavy burden on me and I was nearly having doubts about whether this profession was for me or not. After much deliberation I decided to have the courage to speak about my problem in the middle of the portfolio class. The rest of the class was spent deliberating on what would be the best course of action for me regarding this student. This was a changing point for me – a change from thinking this reflection business is a waste of time to the realization of the value of reflective practice. I believe that had I not undergone this transformation with respect to internalizing my feelings I would have failed to comprehend fully what was happening with this student and how it was inadvertently affecting my teaching. It allowed me to see the interaction between my previous knowledge and new knowledge, and it allowed for the kind of conversations that helped me internalize some deep understanding. In my opinion this is a necessity if one is to be able to elucidate the happenings of the classroom, and must be considered a must for the skilled teacher; for without this knowledge how can one expect to improve on one’s teaching methods?
Here John is beginning to understand that being a reflective teacher requires an active searching about puzzles of practice. He also comes to reframe reflection as an integral part of being a skillful teacher and a tool for improving practice. He begins to see reflection as the connection between previous knowledge and future knowledge and sees it as a tool to understand the student and how it was affecting his teaching. He acknowledges that speaking up about these uncertainties demanded courage on his part, and created a context for the kind of conversations that have helped him “internalize some deep understanding.” He then sees reflection as a tool to improve his teaching methods and views it as essential to developing him as “capable” of “handling all sorts of situations”: I realize that if I had not taken this first step of being a reflective teacher I would be nowhere near as capable as I am now of handling all sorts of situations. I am not saying that I am there yet but at least I am trying to identify what I should do and tentatively put these into action. It is all a trial and error at this stage but at least I am gaining some perspective of the outcomes. What’s more the students are recognizing that I am trying and thus they understand I care.
In this passage, John is beginning to name the value of reflection in terms of his identity as a teacher, an identity that sees learning as incremental – “trial and error” – and as a teacher who cares. He sees it as helping him “gain a perspective of the outcomes,” “to identify what he should do and tentatively put these into action.” In addition, he is beginning to be the kind of teacher he wants to be, that is, a teacher who is capable, skillful, open to learning and viewed as caring by his students. His experimentation in the classroom is being acknowledged by students who see him as caring about them. Through reflective practice I have gained a much greater knowledge of myself which has helped me separate my feelings from my thoughts from those of others, which in turn has helped me become less judgmental and to appreciate others’ experiences and interpretations, and thus, go beyond my own understandings and develop professionally. I am so thankful that this is a compulsory part of the programme because I would have stayed well away from it, and would not have understood the benefits of it. It has prompted a lot of reading, talking to others and trying out new methods.
In this instance, John is able to own his “judgmental” attitude and to separate his feelings from his thoughts. He also is able to take on board other people’s interpretations and, thus, go beyond his own understandings and develop professionally. Not only has this event shaped him personally, it has also shaped him professionally to now view his knowledge as tentative and partial. It has prompted searching outward toward theory as a way of illuminating his learning process – “it has prompted a lot of reading, talking, and trying out new methods.” He now sees the value in reading theoretical readings from a transformed space. The protocol consultation afforded him a context to describe his teaching strategies, goals, his assumptions, his knowledge of the student and her interests in a context where the judgment from peers is suspended and advice not allowed. Most importantly, he was afforded the opportunity to hear similar stories and
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teaching dilemmas from other students, and ways they had tried to solve them, thus creating a community of learners and inquirers. The most important epistemic shift is that John is now beginning to construct a learner identity as a teacher, and to see the partiality of his “knowing,” which enables him to actively seek out other perspectives. Prompted by a comment by a peer from the student-teacher group consultation group, who pointed out that most parents really are interested in their children’s education and that schools often do not allow parents’ voices to be heard, he began to frame the upcoming parent meeting as an opportunity to build a partnership with the parent and her daughter. Not only does this protocol in the lecture hall shape John’s learning, it also shapes the other students, interpretation of reflection and the portfolio assignment. Following, I briefly introduce how another student identifies this as an important learning for her. Coming from another culture, Mary frames the portfolio as particularly difficult for Irish students because they are used to a transmission model of learning. Her portfolio work engages with this question in all her entries and the problem of trying to enact constructivist Mathematics in a school context where students are used to textbook teaching. As a mature student and parent of three children, who has had a number of years teaching experience in the US context, she views Irish schools critically and especially the dominance of the examination culture which leads to a reliance on textbook teaching: I think the portfolio is trying to teach an idea that is totally foreign to Irish students. Irish students are not taught to think, so the whole idea of reflective thinking is completely foreign to them. Students here in this programme do not get what they are meant to do in the portfolio because they are waiting to be told, what is okay to write, and how long it should be. One student said to me that the portfolio would be much easier if they would just tell us what to write about. I disagreed with her and explained why but I don’t think she understood what I was saying and she is probably still hoping to be told what to write.
In addition, Mary comments on the episode above with John saying that it was a real turning point for her in understanding the real benefits of reflective inquiry: One day in class you asked people to talk about an incident from their practice. One man who shared was utterly negative and disdainful of reflection and the portfolio. Yet you guided the conversation in the most amazing way and developed input from the class so that it was demonstrated how his ideas and ours could be developed into something more. I cringed when the man started speaking and thought you were ‘in for it’ but it was turned around beautifully. He began to really view his situation differently. I think we all learned from that what the inquiry process was about. It started us talking about our practice in new ways.
The experience of this incident from Mary’s perspective means that the “ideas” presented in a public forum could become “something more” when they are engaged with in a public inquiry oriented way. It connects students to each other as sources of knowledge, and it shifts the focus onto “talking about practice” in new ways.
Becoming Undone: “Erasing the Hand that Fed Me” The portfolio, in sponsoring and supporting student–teachers’ reflection, documentation, and assessment of practice was characterized by one student, Tim, as a process that was “erasing the hand that fed me.” This metaphor acknowledges how the reflective process helps him uncover tensions and discontinuities in his practice. In the following section, I will briefly look at how Tim, a mature student, uncovers his unconscious commitments to transmission teaching, and how the portfolio work shapes his beginning stance as a teacher: The portfolio made it clear to me that I was ideologically committed to a way of teaching that I do not value and that did not work for me when I was in school. I didn’t even know that I was committed to this way. When constructivist pedagogies were introduced in class I totally resisted it and I thought the whole process was for the birds. This whole ‘hands-on’ methodology was for primary
25â•… Reflective Practice as Conscious Geometry kids not secondary kids I thought. I was not even aware that I was so ideologically committed to the kind of education I had experienced. It was unconscious. I thought it was the only way to do education. I now know that it is not what I want to do:
In this example, Tim’s commitments to certain ways of teaching that come from his “apprenticeship of observation” as a learner is a site of resistance. He acknowledges that the portfolio uncovers this ideologically committed stance, and this model he had experienced leads him to believe that this was the “only way to do teaching.” Thus, the reflective engagement with the portfolio helped Tim to become conscious of unconscious commitments giving him a space to work toward being the teacher he wanted to be: And the whole movement away from a book centred curriculum and a book centred approach to learning is so refreshing for me and exciting… the model that I was schooled in has set a precedent in me in how it should be done before I came here. So there was an initial stubborness where I dug in my heels and reacted negatively........ As I said in the portfolio, and it (the portfolio) was erasing the hand that fed me. It did take a while for that to shift. I mean I was one of the people saying this is crazy and it will not fit here (in Ireland). This is an American model of learning and I resisted it. (Italics mine).
Tim, like Brian in the opening statement resorts to metaphor to explain the impact of the portfolio. The portfolio was “erasing the hand that fed me” suggests a very powerful pedagogical and epistemological shift. The reflective process sponsored and supported him to uncover unconscious commitments that made him resist the teacher education program. He dismissed pedagogical strategies that were being introduced to him in his “history methods” class as “hands on” primary school stuff. He also dismissed this model as “American” and something that would not work here in Ireland again pointing to the tenacity of initial teacher beliefs and assumptions. The portfolio gave him a space to create his practice anew and to live out his commitments: I found the portfolio very useful to live out the theories. Because, as I worked on it, I realized, that it is definitely a place in the whole course where practice meets reflection. We can all talk about theories of learning, things like that, and we can all discuss them, but definitely the portfolio, it is a point where the two cross. It is a fixed point in the year where the two points cross and you actually learn to become a practice and theory person. You actually learn by doing the portfolio the fruits for a young teacher that are to be had from reflective practice. You realise that, look, I documented this, I thought about it and I wrote down why it did not work, and then I got onto the next paragraph in my portfolio and, well I tried this approach the next day and this seems to work and now I realize that the problem was, so and so. So you become critically reflective person of your own practice. I believe that people who do not engage in reflective practice, do not actually advance as a teacher, it moves you forward.
In this excerpt, Tim describes how the portfolio is a tool for authoring and forming a new sense of agency, identity, and empowerment. The portfolio brings the world of theory and practice together through the process of reflection and the enactment into practice. There is a sense here of a student–teacher who is experiencing a deep personal investment in learning to teach, and that the puzzles he brings to his teaching are worked out in the portfolio through practice innovation and enactment. The experience of writing down his ideas and documenting teaching practices allows him to capture insights that he can return to, critically examine, and reconsider. Thus, the process of producing a text becomes a developmental, transformational process since Tim, as author, can have his own ideas be an object of scrutiny and evaluation. He sees this as absolutely essential for advancement and moving forward in teaching. The process of writing about his concerns help him “realize what the problem was” echoing Dewey’s (1998) idea that coming to know the problem is simultaneously knowing the solution: If we knew just what the difficulty was and where it lay, the job of reflection would be much easier than it is… We know what the problem exactly is simultaneously with finding a way out and getting it resolved. Problem and solution stand out completely at the same time (p. 108).
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Tim’s obvious enthusiasm and excitement is compelling. The portfolio, although initially resisted becomes a generative, creative context where he is experiencing himself advancing, growing, and transforming and erasing old teaching archetypes: It is an upward movement in your practice, definitely, reflection. And I think the portfolio facilitates that reflection and if the portfolio was not there, there would not be that same kind of reflection. We could all write about theory and learn off theory in a transmission type way for the exams, but the portfolio moves you very much away from that in a great way. It was a chance to be creative as well, and write really creatively. And the beautiful thing about it was there were no restrictions, or hooks, you were just allowed write about whatever you wanted, once it is to do with your teaching. And I learned so much about it, I learned about the cognitive stuff.
Tim’s experience of the portfolio as a context for creativity, where there is “no restrictions, and no hooks,” affords him the opportunity to experience his own creativity. He enacts this in a classroom where he designs “reflective logs” so that his students can also experience their own creativity. Tim, like participants above, learns to enact a learning-centered process in his classroom and learns that learning to teach is incremental and exciting.
Conclusion: Reflection as a Conscious Geometry in Teacher Educator Practice In a recent workshop, I facilitated on reflective portfolios in teacher education I asked a group of teacher educators to draw a dilemma or puzzle that concerned them in relation to developing reflective engagement in their students. One participant drew a stark picture of a crucified student teacher, whose teacher educators expected a startling number of skills, standards, knowledge, dispositions, teaching practice, and now must also be a critical reflective teacher in the space of a short academic year.1 Another teacher educator related a story of how one of his student–teachers at the end of his four year teacher education program, in which he had to construct a portfolio, recounted to him in a pub how he had simply made up a practice problem, constructed a story of development around it and wrote up reflections on the change process. This teacher educator was arguing that in the present structure of teacher education programs, doing real critical reflection was impossible. He was asking where should he focus his energy. Both teacher educators are highly committed but shared a sense of hopelessness, exhaustion, and powerlessness to change the order of priorities in teacher education. An overfull mainframe curriculum often pushes reflective work to the marginal time and spaces of teacher education. I relate these stories of practice because I find them compelling and they orient me to a perplexing problem I have encountered in my own practice as a teacher educator, that is, the resistance I meet from colleagues and student–teachers alike to critically reflect about teaching and learning. When I began this work of developing a reflective learning curriculum over a decade ago, I met with a range of resistances including charges that reflective thinking was too “fuzzy,” too “intellectual,” too “idealistic,” and too cognitively challenging and confusing for the mediocre student (Rath 2006). A number of questions have been constant and compelling during this period, but the most important for me is: How do we construct teacher education programs that are experienced as “real” for student–teachers, that is, where the activities, practices, and performances are experienced as meaningful and coherent rather than contrived performances to pass the test? A parallel question is focused on
UBUNTU Teacher Educator Network Dialogue Day. April, 14, 2008 – Portfolio/Reflective Practice Workshop. A group of 20 teacher educators participated in this workshop and all had some form of portfolio/reflective practice in their programmes.
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schools – how can our student teachers learn to design such a learning environment for their students. It seems that the dominance of a positivist technical rational agenda is still alive and well in our conceptualization of teacher education. The absence of a community of practice for teacher educators ensures that this does not change. Zeichner (2006) has argued cogently for a renewed focus on developing quality teacher education and has demonstrated that historically teacher education inhabits marginal spaces in terms of resources and status in our institutions. Teacher education is the “cash cow” that has brought in tuition money used to develop legitimate research activities. In the same vein, Liston (1995) has written that teacher education within institutions is framed as the “denigrated drudge work” or the “domestic labor” of our institutional lives. I would argue that within teacher education departments, a scholarship of teaching is the “domestic labour” of departments. In my own institution, there are clear demarcations between teaching practice work and research work, with the latter viewed as “high profile” work. I argue here that if we really want to “teach to change the world” (Oakes and Lipton 1998), we need to develop the kinds of learning environments where teaching and learning invites personal and professional engagement and commitment on the part of both teacher educators and their students. In my view, such an approach leads to viewing teaching and learning as a site for emancipation from dualistic thinking and “self-other” constraining frameworks. It provides a realistic framework for building a vision of teaching that stretches beyond technical rational models that have focused on predetermined ends and means (Korthagen 2001). Such a view takes seriously the formation of professional identities that are committed to responsible, open, and adaptive practices in service of a more socially just world. Reflective engagement creates a “public space” for deliberate and intentional inquiry on the complexity of teaching and learning acts and the social and power relations that can sponsor their transformation. In this chapter, I have shared stories of change and development. A common theme underlining the narratives of student teachers is that the portfolio afforded them a context to invest personally and a freedom to “make sense” of their practice in meaningful ways. They found this work intellectually challenging and motivating, sponsoring further engagement and a sense of efficacy in their practice. In addition, they all experienced an initial resistance to some extent, but this resistance was held by an inquiry culture that encouraged them to engage in “not knowing” which became the entry point into uncovering further layers of complexity. The protocols and language communities surrounding the portfolio sponsored a relational field that used the resistance in creative ways. People resist what they do not understand and if we are to teach to change the world, we need to start with learner-centered pedagogy and the personal curriculum of students (Clarke and Rust 2006). I passionately believe that the personal has a real and legitimate place in teacher education, but that it has been largely written out by a positivist epistemology focused on skills and curriculum coverage. This positivist epistemology shapes what is considered legitimate knowledge and what is considered illicit or private (Greene 1994). I have argued that the reflective portfolio requires novice teachers to view their learning to teach as “scholarship” and to interrogate their teaching and learning through their reflective engagement with cases of their teaching. I believe also that teacher educators need similar environments to explicate the tightly organized systems of explanation around practices we consider routine and take for granted. The construction of the portfolio as text is viewed as identity work that forms and transforms the subjectivities of novice teachers into taking a more authoritative, agentic stance in relation to the work of conceptualizing, enacting, and evaluating teaching and learning, and reflectively situating themselves and their practice problems within generative theoretical frameworks and discourses. In requiring them to articulate and make conscious the means and ends of their teaching, the portfolio invites and recasts beginner teachers as experts on their own learning trajectory and as transformative agents in developing pedagogical innovations in their work. Therefore, this work is
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viewed as essential identity work since it forges the capacities that are now needed to participate actively as lifelong learners in professional learning communities (DarlingHammond 2006; Fulton et€al. 2005; OECD 2005; Shulman 2005). I have argued that it is crucial that there is a coherent and integrated structured approach to teaching and practicing reflection in order to structure the learning from experience that reflection can scaffold. Coherence and integration only come from a shared sense of purpose, and this requires a commitment to reflective engagement for teacher educators on their practices. Therefore, I suggest that portfolios as a teaching/learning task are suitable candidates to be judged as a signature pedagogy in teacher education since they scaffold habits of mind, heart, and hand. The pedagogical interventions described here and the consequent inquiries and experimentation begins to make the practice of reflection a realistic tool to understand teaching and learning in a multilayered way. When teachers can talk about their own “knowing in practice” and “not knowing” in practice and view it from multiple perspectives, they can begin to act in intentional, responsible, and deliberate ways in the company of other voices that have attempted to do similar good work, that is, to transform learning cultures into environments where complex practice can occur and where learners can synthesize and integrate many different and opposing viewpoints and perspectives. Thus, it is argued that such reflective engagement becomes a generative cultural tool for both teacher educators and teachers to reframe teaching as inquiry and as a practice of engagement with complexity. In doing so, the silences and resistance to transform dominant learning cultures that have dominated teacher education that transfer to schools, are uncovered and become more expansive and complex leading to more possibilities of change. Such a transformation is urgently required if we are to produce the kind of complex human beings that current societies need for their continued evolution and success As Maxine Greene (1979) has argued, The concern of teacher educators must remain normative, critical and even political. Neither the teachers colleges nor the schools can change the social order. Neither colleges nor schools can legislate democracy. But something can be done to empower teachers to reflect on their own life situations, to speak out in their own ways about the lacks that must be repaired; the possibilities to be acted upon in the name of what they deem to be decent, human and just. (p. 71)
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Chapter 26
The Ethical Dimensions of Reflective Practice Nona Lyons
There are four major ethical concerns identified here for reflective practitioners, whether in national and international settings: professional considerations, arising from being a professional engaged in reflection or reflective inquiry; general research considerations arising from engaging in research, a likely common occurrence for reflective practitioners who are natural inquirers; considerations from taking a critical inquiry stance, one insistently urged by contemporary inquirers; “vexing critical issues,” those situations professional practitioners may encounter and be hard-pressed to try to solve. In this discussion I do not seek to resolve any dilemmas. Rather my purpose is to alert those engaged in reflective practice to the ethical considerations that may not easily be discernable but are likely to be present and may need to be addressed. The piece opens with a discussion of moral perception.
Introduction: An Ethical Perspective “The effort really to see and really to represent is no idle business in face of the constant force that makes for muddlement.” We live amid bewildering complexities. Obtuseness and refusal of vision are our besetting vices. Responsible lucidity can be wrested from that darkness only by painful, vigilant effort, the intense scrutiny of particulars. Our highest and hardest task is to make ourselves people “on whom nothing is lost” (Martha Nussbaum, 1990, p. 148 quoting Henry James).
Philosopher Martha Nussbaum points our attention to the idea of moral attention and perception as being elemental to living a good human life. Her examination of examples from great literature – such as Henry James’ The Golden Bowl, or Charles Dickens’ David Copperfield – shows us how a situation depicted in the novel can reveal the role of perception and moral rules intermingling in real life situations. To Nussbaum, to have moral perception and not act on that with moral judgment and commitment is a “besetting danger,” as it is to consider acting on moral duty without perception. “Perception without responsibility is dangerously free-floating, even as duty without perception is blunt and blind” (Nussbaum 1990, p. 155).
N. Lyonsâ•›(*) Department of Education, University College Cork, Cork, Ireland e-mail:
[email protected]
N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_26, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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In this essay, with Nussbaum I argue that good deliberation of ethical judgment depends on the particular and the particular is in some sense prior to general rules and principles. This Aristotelian thesis highlights an approach to ethical judgment that focuses on an the awareness of the particular. This does not mean discarding the guidance of general principles – they can provide “an invaluable sort of steering.” But this use is clearly different from the way some moral theory suggests the primacy of moral principles and rules (Nussbaum 1990, p. 165). Reflection and reflective inquiry might be said to originate with and to be dependent on some critical perception in a real-life experience: seeing a patient in pain or terror, a student undone by some unexpected achievement or disappointment, or a client in a law court thrown by some revelation a lawyer should have warned of (Loughran 2002). Such encounters can lead to dilemmas for professionals. Obtuseness is a moral failing, but as Nussbaum avers, its opposite can be cultivated. Thus, to begin with an effort to achieve perception is to enter reflective practice and an ethical domain, to be reminded, as Maxine Greene phrases it, of the necessity of being wide-awake (Greene 1977, 1988) and concerned about those involved (Noddings 1998).
Professional Ethical Considerations To begin to map the ethical considerations that may arise when engaging in reflection or reflective inquiry, I point first to what I identify as personal considerations for professional practitioners. These considerations require perception, being wideawake, and sensitivity and are likely to arise any time in day-to-day situations. To be alert is to see what is surprising or new in a situation, to perceive is to see something more. To approach reflection thus is also to recognize the challenge to truly see. For example, to see the parents of a premature infant recognizing themselves as parents in the face of the child’s ultimate danger, or to help a manager to widen his or her own perceptions to what needs correcting, or to foster in a teacher the ability to catch the subtleties of a child’s words or work, is to deepen understandings. In this activity, it is clear that what first becomes important in gaining perception is simply the ability to describe a situation one sees, vigorously holding off making a judgment. These can be captured in words, in logs, journals, or critical event analyses. Then, to continue might involve discussing a situation to provoke greater clarification. Finally, to broaden the view might involve enlisting some wider communal discussion. An approach to the problem of seeing is exemplified in the case of Education Rounds that Steve Seidel describes in this Handbook. It is a good example of how this can work with a group of educators. In Rounds, a self-selected presenter offers some evidence of his or her experience to the group to be studied. This could be a sample of a child’s work, a video clip of students interacting in a math class, or on a field-trip collecting samples of rocks for a science experiment. Sometimes a whole collection of a student’s work is presented. The task for the group is to slowly describe what has been presented –simply to name what is there. Thus, people attend to color, the placement of rocks, how a classroom was arranged, shapes, the emotions evident – mainly what they notice. Gradually the group works around to question: what is going on here, what is the child or person up to? What does the person care about most ardently? What observations serve as evidence? What insights inform a viewer? A range of perspectives is offered, some jarring and even contradictory to one another. The effects of such discussion often not only challenge a view but also bring about uncertainty for a participant, and a loosening of the view that there is one right answer or one right or wrong way (Perry 1970/1999; Belenky et€al. 1984).
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Sometimes in sharing, people report a triggering experience from another person’s story. For example, one nurse in a different setting reported on hearing another student nurse in her group talk about what the experience of observing the death of an infant meant to her. It was not a recent event but the listening nurse realized how she herself, along with the rest in her group, were carrying other such events in memory as well (Peden-McAlpine et€al. 2005, p. 693). What then emerges may be shared respect for others’ hard-earned insights. Others work hard for their observations. Critics are saying that most doctors today, for example, are increasingly unaware that their thinking is prone to predictable mistakes. “Our systems of medical practice neither seek to detect these mistakes nor feed their lessons back to doctors to prevent their occurrence. An all too typical error is that doctors simply stop observing the patient carefully” (Horton 2007, p. 17). One teaching doctor who wanted to help his team of medical personnel to improve their perceptions realized that they needed to be coached in seeing. This teacher initiated a technique commonly used in arts classes. This doctor asked his medical team that is usually attending to critical premature babies facing life-threatening situations to try pause in their work or soon afterward as if they were making a video to record what the personnel attending to the baby were seeing and experiencing. Thus, the medical personnel “recorded” what a parent in a trauma room might see and feel and what the nurse on duty or the physician might. Participants in this exercise acknowledge that they begin to appreciate the perspectives, needs, and hopes of different individuals in a highly serious situation. The efforts of instructors and teachers to challenge students to be present to ways of seeing their own clients or students – termed “being present” – is becoming a necessity in professional education. Some authors of this Handbook, for example, Carol Rodgers and Fred Korthagen, describe their efforts to coach teachers to become present to their students and their ways of seeing. What is learned from these experiences? We are reminded of the forerunners of these exercises: the achievements of Pat Carini, who with her colleagues at the Prospect School in Vermont followed their young students over their elementary years collecting student work and their teachers’ observations (Carini 2001). Or Eleanor Duckworth’s classes at the Harvard Graduate School of Education (HGSE) who had her graduate students documenting the movements of the moon over the course of weeks (Duckworth 1987). A visitor once came into Longfellow Hall at HGSE to find long tubing of water hanging from the third floor to the basement in one of Eleanor’s experiments with water flow. We have a new sense of what develops when people can make these observations: they come to own their own, learning and their observations anchor their learning in a profound way. But it takes effort. This is why a Martha Nussbaum or Maxine Greene chooses to turn to great texts of literature, those rich cases created by master observers and describers. So we learn from Charles Dickens how a David Copperfield could become enthralled by a Steerforth to the hazard of his young cousin, Emily. We deepen our understanding of why people keep journals or why instructors ask students to create records of their own critical incidents. We work on developing our own perceptions, finding new ways to own our own moments of uncertainty. Today, we face a severe crisis of uncertainty. What is crying out to public and professionals alike are the deep worldwide scandals rocking our most basic institutions – financial banking, home ownership, everyday loans, and the supposed government watchdog groups. And this is unfolding globally, creating upheavals nationally and internationally. There is increasing pressure to recognize and name the ethical and moral issues at stake – carelessness, willingness to overlook, ignore, not to name illegal acts. And of course there is greed. The enormity of the situation has also brought questions of ethical awareness. Today’s professionals are being asked to acknowledge the dimensions of these situations, to act themselves in new ways.
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Others face similar challenges. “Science and skill,” Dr. Atul Gawande suggests, “are the easiest parts of care.” But what matters more, he suggests, is diligence, doing right by patients, and ingenuity, that is “thinking anew,” obsessive reflection on failure, what caused errors and a constant searching for new solutions (Gawande 2007, p. 9; see also Horton 2007, p. 16). Instructors of the law are called on to answer to why they are not training young lawyers to consider issues of fairness as well as those of legal precedents. While many institutions offer courses in moral thinking, one line of argument echoes an old problem: does studying moral reasoning lead to ethical behavior? What would? Dr. Gawande suggests a way of thinking: Betterment is a perpetual labor. The world is chaotic, disorganized, and vexing, and medicine is nowhere spared that reality. To complicate matters, we in medicine are only human ourselves…. Yet to live as a doctor is to live so that one’s life is bound up in others’ and in science and in the messy, complicated connection between the two. It is to live a life of responsibility. Just by doing this work, one has. The question is, having accepted the responsibility, how does one do such work well? (Gawande 2007, p. 9).
What is taken away from all of these encounters are the surprising subtleties of human experience and its constant challenge. Much depends on seeing, on perception. What may be emerging in ethical considerations necessary for today’s professional life and learning is to answer the question: How does one do work well?
Ethical Concerns in Research Intricately connected to reflective inquiry is the idea of investigation, inquiring into some kind of study, usually referred to as self-study. There is an important connection between reflective inquiry and research. Reflective inquiry implies investigations that can be undertaken in a variety of ways – by an individual in self-study alone; or more formally with others in different kinds of settings: in a hospital, a courtroom, an organization, in schools and classrooms. Individual self-study may be the more common approach in that it usually seeks to investigate a subject – a question, or puzzle related to one’s own practice. Selfstudy is the fastest growing area of educational research (Loughran et€al. 2004). It has been supported not only by individual practitioners but also by projects generated to foster such investigations by professionals, for example, developments of the Scholarship of Teaching movement, and the collaborative projects on questions of investigation they launch (Shulman 1998). For many professionals, research is likely to occur in the clinical phase of a career. Some professions may even sponsor such projects. Abraham Flexner, who did his historical study in early 1900 of medical education in the United States and Canada, had an image of doctors as researchers (Flexner 1910). His idea was that doctors on clinical rounds – whether as students or fully vetted doctors – would naturally engage in the investigation of some question that a patient’s care had initiated (Cooke et€ al. 2006, p. 1339). In Flexner’s model, “teaching, clinical care and investigation each served the others’ purposes, because most research was based on the direct examination of patients” (Cooke et€al. 2006, p. 1340). Flexner wanted this kind of research built into a doctor’s training and his objective was to make such research a permanent part of a doctor’s practice. Flexner’s injunction was, “Think much, publish little.” But Flexner’s dream got left behind as medicine became more sophisticated. “Research production became the metric by which faculty accomplishment was judged” (Cooke et€ al. 2006, p. 1340). However, today such activities are slowly being revised. Whether on a large scale or small, engaging in research can bring ethical concerns. For the individual researcher, immediate attention is focused on several issues. But at an institutional
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level, much can be addressed by the Institutional Review Board, which the school or organization calls to review all its research projects. The individual researcher needs to learn how to establish a research relationship, that is, how to connect with the larger institution to be involved. Then, how to establish a relationship with people in the setting, to determine how and whether they will participate? Finally, there are issues of encouraging cooperation. Participants in research projects often report that ethical issues can emerge when least expected, coming from unexpected happenings or encounters. How, for example, scientific inquiry methods themselves can embed ethical perspectives, answering to what counts for knowledge or not, having consequences such as those of the No Child Left Behind law (Guba and Lincoln 1989; see also Noddings 1994, 1998). Guba and Lincoln identify and elaborate on the political implications contrasting positivism and constructivism: When science’s claim to be value-free failed to survive close scrutiny, so that the intimate relationship of inquiry to values was exposed, it became apparent that, since not all sets of values could simultaneously be served, every act of science was also a political act, one that structured power relationships in a particular way and served to maintain them as the status quo (Guba and Lincoln 1989, pp. 118–119).
Guba and Lincoln go on to show how it was revealed that not all scientific acts could be conceived of as ethical – such as the incredible acts of human experimentation found in science and history. Science could and did engage in ethically questionable activities. Although most researchers are alert to these situations, we are also today dependent on standards and rules that we attempt to enforce through agencies, institutions, professional review boards, etc. Guba and Lincoln identify four areas of concern that are usually dealt with: guarding subjects from harm, physical or psychological; guarding subjects from deception; guarding the privacy of the subjects and obtaining fully informed consent (Guba and Lincoln 1989, p. 120). For more formal studies, an outline of these ethical research issues that can be identified, for example, in the Ethical Standards used to guide research. The Ethical Standards of the American Educational Research Association (AERA 2000), America’s premier educational research organization, suggests the kind and range of issues of concern for AERA researchers. Specific concerns about individual research can be gleaned both from the preamble to the section of the AERA Research Standards and the individual standards. The Preamble states: Educational researchers conduct research within a broad array of settings and institutions, including schools, colleges, universities, hospitals, and prisons. It is of paramount importance that educational researchers respect the rights, privacy, dignity, and sensitivities of their research populations and also the integrity of the institutions in which the research occurs. Educational researchers should be especially careful in working with children and other vulnerable populations. These standards are intended to reinforce and strengthen already existing standards enforced by the Institutional Review Boards and other professional associations. Standards intended to protect the rights of human subjects should not be interpreted to prohibit teacher research, action research, and/or other forms of practitioner inquiry so long as: the data are those that could be derived from normal teaching/learning processes; confidentiality is maintained; the safety and welfare of participants are protected; informed consent is obtained when appropriate; and the use of the information obtained is primarily intended for the benefit of those receiving instruction in that setting (AERA 2000, pp. 3–4).
Some of the standards adopted by AERA for this component of the guidelines include: participant’s rights, such as to be informed of likely risks of research; to have a right to confidentiality; to be able to withdraw at any time; and to remain anonymous (AERA 2000, pp. 3–4). These standards as well as the Institutional Review Board provide important guidelines for individuals. Sometimes a researcher can be faced with a potential disagreement in an unexpected area. For instance, one example comes from deliberations among assessors over evidence from a teaching portfolio. In this case, two assessors were independently reviewing the evidence of a teacher’s portfolio for determining state certification for teaching. The assessors found
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evidence for one portfolio entry from the teacher to be quite ambiguous. They found that they could not make a judgment about the teacher on one aspect of teaching required for assessment, that is, the teacher’s commitment to student learning. Complicating the situation was the fact that the assessors felt that the candidate otherwise had a strong portfolio. What should be done? What would be fair? The assessors decided to review the available alternative evidence that could be used to infer the teacher’s commitment to his students (Schutz and Moss 2004, p. 30).
Ethical Considerations When Taking an Inquiry Stance: What Are We Preparing Professionals for? Today, educators of professionals and concerned citizen are increasingly aware of the political dimensions of teaching and learning in any profession. There is an increased pressure to link the concerns of teaching and learning to larger social, cultural, and political contexts and to encourage the investigation and interrogation of emerging issues. The most well-known advocates of these have been critical practitioners such as Paulo Freire (1998), Jack Mezirow (1991), and Stephen Brookfield (1995), as well as contemporary teacher educators. Yet, it is everyday professionals who encounter and must deal with such situations. Take the searing case study reported by teacher educator Parker Palmer (2007) of the death that revealed issues for the future education of medical professionals. The case involved the unexpected death of a liver transplant donor. Three days after a successful transplant, the donor suffered alarming symptoms and failed to get appropriate help in the prestigious teaching hospital where he was recovering. In charge of him was a young overworked doctor. A state health commissioner issued a report on the situation 3 months later, acknowledging: “the hospital allowed this patient to undergo a major high risk procedure and then left his post-operative care in the hands of an over burdened, mostly junior staff, without appropriate supervision….” (Palmer 2007, p. 2). Palmer comments that he does not doubt that the hospital, inadequate staffing, and lax supervision are to blame. He is, however, struck by the impersonal, nameless quality of the analysis. He cannot help but think of the wife of the victim who helplessly witnessed the death of her husband, or think of the young resident who was placed in a deadly situation of supervising too many patients without sufficient help or supervision of her own. Palmer then queries: We must ask ourselves whether we are preparing students in all fields to recognize what happens in the institutions in which they work. Then we must ask how residents (and other professionals) might be educated to confront institutional inhumanity of this sort, so that they can help cut it off at its root. As this resident rushed from bed to bed, surely she could see the potential calamity. What kept her playing her role as an obedient underling in this tragedy instead of speaking truth to power? What kind of action might she have taken?
Parker is clear that he is talking about acting ethically and courageously in the moment while there is still time to do something to salvage a situation. While this case is clearly a stark and unique situation, others like Palmer are questioning how professionals today ought to be educated. Palmer calls for a new kind of professional, a “new professional,” by which he means a person not only competent in his or her discipline but also with the skill and will “to deal with the institutional pathologies that threaten the profession’s highest standards” (Palmer 2007, p. 3). Palmer goes on to suggest how such new professionals ought to be educated: to consciously debunk the myth that institutions render individuals helpless; to encourage students to recognize and value emotions
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and what they tell them, taking seriously emotional intelligence; to offer students the knowledge, skills, and sensibilities required to create communities of discernment and support; and to encourage student professionals to ask how they live and want to live a good human life. It is this kind of message and argument that teacher educators today are similarly calling on teachers to engage in themselves and their students as well. They urge teachers and their students to take on an inquiry stance, clearly echoing the messages of Freire and Dewey. Cochran-Smith and Lytle developed the idea of inquiry as stance in order to: “… capture in a metaphor the ways we stand, the ways we see, and the lenses we see through as educators. Teaching is a complex activity that occurs within webs of social, historical, cultural, and political significance. Across the life span an inquiry stance provides a kind of grounding within the changing cultures of school reform and competing political agendas….” (CochranSmith 2004, p. 14).
These sentiments resonate with the call for teaching for social justice. As Jeannie Oakes and Martin Lipman suggest “acting to achieve social justice in schools is a struggle sustained by hope” (Oakes and Lipman 2003, p. xv). For them it is necessary to think of this as an on-going struggle, as is democracy, and to be reminded that as Cornell West suggests a democracy “keeps track of social misery, solicits and channels moral outrage to alleviate it, and projects a future in which the potentialities of ordinary people flourish and flower” (Quoted in Oakes and Lipman 2002, p. 433). Freire, like West, presents the case for attention to the political. On nearly every page of his writings Freire reminds the reader and himself of the political dimensions of schooling and education, He says: “No reflection about education and democracy can exclude issues of power, economics, equality, justice and its application and ethics” (Freire 1996, p. 146). Freire says: Another aspect to think about, as we question ourselves about education and democracy, is centered in the contradictory, dialectic relationship between authority and freedom. Relationships that, in turn, cannot be separated from their ethical nature. I have insisted, throughout my educational practice…that finite, unfinished beings, men and women, be socialized into being more…. (Freire 1996, p. 146)
He goes on: The teaching of democracy requires discourse not about abstract democracy, but about it as practical and experienced. It requires a critical discourse, well founded, and which concretely analyzes its disjunctures and incoherences, as well as a theoretical discourse that emerges from a critical understanding of practice and is ethically based. We cannot reconcile the democratic radicalism for which we fight with a gray, tasteless, and cold understanding of educational practice, an understanding that takes place in classrooms isolated from the world, with educators who merely deposit content into the supposedly empty heads of submissive learners (Freire 1996, p. 154).
For Freire, the teaching of democracy is possible but not for the faint of heart or the authoritarian, nor those who act mechanically. It is for those who can enact democratic experiments, being committed to making rights viable, those who also never tire of fighting for it. (Freire 1996, p. 154). Freire was committed to education in the struggle for democracy. He believed education mattered, could make an indispensable contribution to this political struggle, “no transformation will take place without it” (Freire 1996, p. 155). Many teacher educators believe that it is by taking an inquiry stance that transformation begins. In many ways John Dewey shared Freire’s hopes. In 1922, Dewey asks teachers directly to get below what he called the froth and foam of government and media pronouncements to learn what is really going on if there could be the hope of a more democratic, humane society (MW:13:329, 322): [When schools] cultivate the habit of suspended judgment, of skepticism, of desire for evidence, of appeal to observation rather than sentiment, discussion rather than bias, inquiry rather than conventional idealizations…[then] schools will be the dangerous outposts of a humane civilization.
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N. Lyons But they will also begin to be supremely interesting places. For it will then come about that education and politics are one and the same thing because politics will have to be in fact what it now pretends to be, the intelligent management of social affairs (MW 13:134).
These injunctions move us to reconsiderations: What more need a democracy achieve, attend to? Undertake? And then basic questions emerge: What is a democracy? What practices are important for students to explore? To engage in? What is appropriate for students to explore? Inappropriate? What care is necessary for such explorations? Both John Dewey and Paulo Freire connected education and with the growth and development of democracy: And both looked to the investigation of the political as well as the social and cultural for that evolution to take place. Dewey wanted teachers and their students to investigate and overcome “economic illiteracy.” The method was to involve the method of intelligence, reflective inquiry. Freire believed that teachers must help students to develop conscientizaca, to engage in active investigation of the world. Both the methods involved a “probing of reality, a deconstructing, in Freire’s case of the “myths” that the oppressor class has foisted on the oppressed to keep them in submission” (Fishman 2007, p. 61). While Freire takes a revolutionary approach and Dewey a more gradualist belief in change, both placed their hope in democracy, “the continual extension and fuller realization of democracy” (Fishman 2007, p. 64).
Vexing Critical Issues In conclusion, one other category of ethical concern ought to be discussed: those personal situations that can confront us in our professional life experiences that at the time seem almost confounding. I draw on those I know from my own and others work as a teacher educators and describe three situations, as mini case studies.
Case #1: Owning Your Own Philosophy of Teaching The young woman had entered a year-long teacher education program to prepare to teach high school English in a mid-career change. Before deciding on teaching the woman, here called Jane, had held a responsible job for several years. As teacher candidates, all students in the program were to create a teaching portfolio. Jane had some problems with the process, and at the end of the year in an interview about her program experience, she acknowledged that she had found the portfolio process to be “terrifying.” In particular, she acknowledged that it was being asked to write up and include in the portfolio a statement of her teaching philosophy that stymied her. Jane asked herself: Who would read the statement? What judgment would they then make about her? She had never written a statement of her philosophy. She wasn’t sure she had one, But how could she write one and include it in the portfolio for all to see and judge her?
Case #2: The Problematic Member of the Group This case involved a group of faculty members who were meeting over the course of a year to construct teaching portfolios of their own. The group of six, from different �disciplines and departments, had committed their support equally to all members to �complete the task. But half way through the year, they were experiencing one member of
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their group as problematic. He was constantly calling attention to a difficult work situation he was in and, in effect, leaving little time to consider other people’s reports or other planned agendas. Although everyone had at some point raised problematic situations, this one person seemed fixated on his problem. Time seemed to be slipping away and members of the group were losing patience. What did they owe this man? What do members of a group owe each other in terms of the support they promised? When they believe the support is crucial to completing their task? When collaborative support is mandatory?
Case #3: The Detractor The case was bothersome. As a group of students in a college program dealt with creating portfolios for a culminating task of the program, the faculty member serving as a guide for the portfolio task discovered that another faculty member, was telling students that the portfolio process was a waste of time. Some Questions: what recommendations might make sense in dealing with these situations? How might each case be approached? What might have been done at the beginning? What ought to be done now? Our work must begin here. In the particulars of the situation in which we find ourselves. Living in the present moment, confronting things life brings – the particular, the unexpected, the surprising. And paying attention. Aristotle argued “discrimination lies in perception” (Nussbaum 1990, p. 175). How does one do work well?
References American Educational Research Association. (2000). The ethical standards of the American Educational Research Association. Washington, DC: American Educational Research Association. Belenky, M., Clinchy, B., Goldberger, N., & Tarule, J. (1986), Women’s Ways of Knowing: The development of self, voice and mind. Basic Books: New York. Brookfield, S. (1995). Becoming a critically reflective teacher. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Cochran-Smith, M., (2004). Walking the Road: Race, Diversity, and Social Justice in Teacher Education. Teachers College Press, New York. Cooke, M., Irby, D., Sullivan, W., & Ludmerer, K. (2006). American medical education 100 years after the Flexner Report. The New England Journal of Medicine, 355, 1339–1344. Duckworth, E. (1987). The Having of Wonderful Ideas. Teachers College Press: New York. Fishman, S. M. (2007). Dewey in dialogue with Paulo Freire: Hope, education and democracy. In S. M. Fishman & L. McCarthy (Eds.), Dewey and the philosophy and practice of hope. Urbana/Chicago: University of Illinois Press. Flexner, A. (1910). Medical education in the United States and Canada: A report to the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching. New York: Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching. Freire, P. (1996). Letter to Cristina: Reflections on my life and work. New York: Routledge. Freire, P. (1998). Pedagogy of Freedom: Ethics, Democracy and Civic. Courage. Rowman Littlefield, Inc., London, New York. Gawande, A. (2007). Better: A Surgeon’s Notes on Performance. Picador, Henry Holt and Company, New York. Greene, M. (1977). Toward wide-awakeness: An argument for the arts and humanities in education. Teachers College Record, 79(1), 119–125. Greene, M. (1988). The dialectic of freedom. New York: Teachers College Press. Guba, E., & Lincoln, Y. (1989). Fourth generation evaluation. Newbury Park/London: Sage. Horton, R. (2007). What’s wrong with doctors. New York Review of Books, 54(9), 16–20. James, H. (1997). The art of the novel.
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N. Lyons Loughran, J. J. (2002). Effective reflective practice: In search of meaning in learning to teach. Journal of Teacher Education, 53(1), 33–43. Loughran, J. J., Hamilton, M. L., LaBoskey, V., & Russell, T. (2004). International handbook of self-study of teaching and teacher education practices. Dordrecht: Kluwer. Mezirow, J, (1991). Transformative Dimensions of Adult Learning. Jossey-Bass, San Francisco. Noddings, N. (1994). An ethic of caring and its implications for instructional arrangements. In L. Stone (Ed.), The education feminism reader. New York: Routledge. Noddings, N. (1998). To know what matters to you, observe your actions, Stanford Online Report, February 4, 1998, K. O’Toole. Retrieved February 13, 2009, from http://news-sevic.stanford.edu/ news/1998/february 4/noddings.html. Nussbaum, M. (1990). Loves Knowledge. Oxford University Press, London & New York. Oakes, J., & Lipman, M. (2002). Teaching to change the World. Mc Graw-Hill, Boston & New York. Palmer, P. (2005). The courage to teach. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Palmer, P. (2007). A new professional: The aims of education revisited. Change, November/December 2007, 1–7. Retrieved November 9, 2007, from http://www.carnegiefoundation.org/change/sub.asp. Peden-McAlpine, C., Tomlinson, P. S., Fprneris, S. G., Genck, G., & Meiers, S. J. (2005). Evaluation of a reflective practice intervention to enhance family care. Journal of Advanced Nursing, 49(5), 494–501. Perry, W.G. (1970; 1999). Forms of Intellectual and Ethical Development in the College Years: A Scheme, Holt Rinehart and Winston, New York. Schutz, A., & Moss, P. A. (2004). Reasonable decisions in portfolio assessment: Evaluating complex evidence of teaching. Education Policy Analysis Archives, 12(23). Retrieved 13 February, 2009, from http:/epaa.asu.edu/epaa/v12n33/. Shulman, L. (1998). Course anatomy: The dissection and analysis of knowledge through teaching, in Hutchins, P. (Ed.), The Course Portfolio. American Association for Higher Education, Washington, DC.
Part VII
Reflective Inquiry: What Future?
Three chapters comprise Part VII, the closing component of the Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Practice. Appropriately this segment of the Handbook looks to the future, to ask: What possibilities might the future portend for reflective practice? The three chapters offer different yet related prospects. Fred Korthagen’s compelling chapter, Going to the Core, seeks to connect the person to the profession – a clear challenge and goal for professional life in many professions today. Many acknowledge that it is in reflective practice they find that hope. Tony Ghaye’s chapter seeks to look at what might be considered a spiritual dimension in reflective engagement, also an emerging hope of many today. The last chapter asks for visions of possible futures of reflective inquiry. Here some of the authors of the Handbook as well as other commentators offer their views and visions. The chapter closes by returning to the two guides to this work, Maxine Greene and Lee Shulman for final observations, lasting hopes for the best of a life lived in reflective consciousness, wide-awake.
Chapter 27: Fred A. J. Korthegan and Angelo Vasalos’s Chapter, “Going to the core: Deepening reflection by connecting the person to the profession,” Transports readers to Continental Europe. In this essay, the focus on problem-seeking and problem-solving in reflective practice is replaced by an emphasis on “being while teaching.” In short, an attempt is made to heal historical ruptures between cognition and emotion through focusing on professional presence – that is, “the state of being fully present while behaving professionally.” Here, too, transformative learning is the fruit of reflective inquiry.
Chapter 28: Reflective Inquiry as Participatory and Appreciative Action and Reflection. Tony Ghaye’s chapter opens a window to suggest a form of reflection that moves to shift from deficit based discourses and inquiries to strength-based conversations and inquiries that use the power of appreciative questions to build better futures. Action is to be aligned with authentic participation, an appreciation of individuals and their gifts and talents and the need for moral courage and ethical behavior to re-frame the current realities and move with a conviction to a future. Ghaye considers an element akin to spirituality development for the future of reflective practice. Although many reflective practitioners would not find this idea strange, it has not often been identified as such. It will be one area of development to follow into the future.
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Chapter 29: Reflective Inquiry: What Future? This last chapter of the book turns to responses of professionals today to gauge the prospects of reflective practice for the future. Although some disagree, most commentators see no immediate danger of the demise of reflection or reflective practice, especially in fields where it is necessary for certification. But some like Lee Shulman are cautious. He urges that we are not taken so with a reflection that we ignore attending to teaching itself, that is, teaching of the law, medicine, social work, occupational therapy, etc. – the content of a profession. Looking across the chapter’s commentators and their observations, several recommendations are suggested to enhance the future of reflection and reflective inquiry in the professions. Five are identified: 1. Teach reflection and reflective inquiry systematically and explicitly as an aim of professional education. 2. Examine and explore the ethical dimensions of professional practice. 3. Advance a scholarship of teaching by encouraging the practitioners themselves to make inquiries, investigations into the puzzles they encounter in their practice. 4. Identify the political, social and cultural dimensions of professional life and learning. 5. Investigate the complexities of assessment of reflection and reflective practice as ongoing mandates of professional study.
Chapter 27
Going to the Core: Deepening Reflection by Connecting the Person to the Profession Fred A.J. Korthagen and Angelo Vasalos
The real art of discovery consists not in finding new lands, but in seeing with new eyes. (M. Proust)
Introduction There is a well-known song by Aretha Franklin, entitled Think! To date, this seems to be the key issue in the field of professional development, as this whole handbook on reflective inquiry shows. On the basis of case studies in seven organizations, Van Woerkom (2003) concludes that critical reflection is indeed pivotal to job-related learning in a variety of professions. However, we have to be careful. Reflection as it is currently being used in professional settings and in educational programs for professional development, does not always lead to optimal learning or the intended professional development. Sometimes reflection seems to be used by practitioners as merely a technical tool generating quick, but often ineffective, solutions to problems that have been only superficially defined. If we look closely at how many practitioners reflect, we see that if there is any time for reflection at all, work pressure often leads to a focus on finding a “quick fix” – a rapid solution for a practical problem – rather than shedding light on the underlying issues determining the situation at hand. While this may be an effective short-term measure in a hectic situation, there is a danger that one’s professional development may eventually stagnate. As Schön (1987) argues, practitioners may unconsciously develop standard solutions fitting in with their personal perception of situations, so that the accompanying strategies become frozen. The practitioner will then no longer be in the habit of examining these strategies or the analyses once made of the problems they face. This means that more structured reflection is important in promoting deep learning and sound professional behavior. It also supports the development of a growth competence (Korthagen et€al. 2001, p. 47): the ability to continue to develop professionally on the basis of internally directed learning. Dewey (1933) already emphasized the need for such careful and structured reflection as a basis for deep learning. In this contribution, we will deepen this idea, and link it to the F.A.J. Korthagen VU University, Amsterdam, Netherlands e-mail:
[email protected]
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person of the professional. At the same time, we will bridge the gap between a kind of detached thinking about our actions and the actions themselves, bringing the concept of reflection closer to notions such as presence, awareness and mindfulness. We will first describe our original ALACT model of reflection, its origins, and the manner in which it has been applied in many countries. Although the model has proved itself to be effective in overcoming the “quick-fix” way of dealing with practical problems, we will also take a critical look at the drawbacks of this approach to reflection, drawbacks that seem to be inherent to many other approaches to reflection as well. This discussion will also help us to look at what is essential in the concept of reflection, and how this essence can be strengthened. This will lead to a discussion of the concept of Core Reflection and its connection to the current literature on presence. Finally, we will discuss our experiences with supervising and training people in using Core Reflection, and the implications for practice in a variety of professions.
Understanding the Relation Between Practice and Reflection As Calderhead and Gates (1993, p. 2) already stated many years ago, the essence of reflection is that it enables professionals “to analyze, discuss, evaluate and change their own practice.” Indeed, in the work of practitioners, reflection is always linked to practice. In almost all approaches to reflection, one can distinguish a mutual relation between reflection and practice as depicted in Fig.€ 27.1, a relation that is cyclic, because through reflection one develops new insights that help to improve one’s behavior in practice, behavior that can in turn be reflected on, etc. In order to develop practical guidelines for making this cyclic relation work for practitioners, many authors build on the model developed by Kolb and Fry (1975), who described four phases: (1) experience, (2) reflective observation, (3) abstract conceptualization, and (4) active experimentation. This model, however, seems to be more useful for describing the analytic processes needed for a better understanding of practice than for improving the relation between the person of the practitioner and his or her work environment, i.e., for enhancing personal effectiveness. This is firstly caused by the fact that the model overemphasizes the role of abstract concepts, at the cost of concrete and more individual notions and images determining the practitioner’s behavior when dealing with practice (cf. Clandinin 1985; Connelly and Clandinin 1984), which are often strongly rooted in his or her personal history (Carter and Doyle 1996; Kelchtermans 1993). As a consequence, a person may develop abstract concepts that help to understand practice without being able to develop a more fruitful relation with it. An example is the student teacher who understands concepts such as “care” and “trust” and their significance for the relationship with students in the classroom, but who fails to develop such relationships, because of an image of the classroom as “a dangerous place to be” (something not unusual in novice teachers). This problem is related to a second limitation of the Kolb and Fry model, namely its emphasis on cognitive analysis. In the context of teachers’ professional development, Day
REFLECTION Fig.€ 27.1╅ The cyclic relation between practice and reflection
PRACTICE
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(1999, p. 69) concluded that the model “fails to take account of the need for developmental links between cognitive, emotional, social and personal development in the journey towards expertise in teaching” (Day 1999, p. 69). In the everyday work of teachers, their behavior is not only guided by cognitive thinking, but may be influenced as much by their emotions (Damasio 1994; Hargreaves 1998a, b; Sutton and Wheatley 2003; Van Veen et€al. 2005), and their personal needs (Deci and Ryan 2000). This is something that seems to be true in many other professions as well, especially in professions building on a direct practitioner–client relationship. In sum, if we take the person of the practitioner seriously as the central instrument through which practice takes form, we have to take into account that personal frames of reference, emotions and needs determine both practical work situations and the practitioner’s reflections on these situations. Moreover, it is not only the practitioner who brings his or her “whole being” into the work situation: their clients, too, are human beings with their personal frames of reference, emotions and personal needs. It is the interaction between all such aspects which makes the work of many practitioners complex. This clarifies the limitation of an approach to reflection aimed at a type of conceptualization that is not connected with both the person of the practitioner and his or her clients, and their relationships.
The ALACT Model of Reflection The Model At the beginning of the 1980s, this helped us in reframing the relation between practice and reflection and in giving the person and his or her personal concepts, emotions, and needs a more central position in this relation. Korthagen (1982, 1985) published an adaptation of the model of Kolb and Fry, which has since been used in many teacher education programs throughout the world (see, e.g., Brandenburg 2008; Hoel and Gudmundsdottir 1999, and Jones 2008). This model describes the ideal process of learning in and from practice with the aid of five phases: (1) Action, (2) Looking back on the action, (3) Awareness of essential aspects, (4) Creating alternative methods of action, and (5) Trial, which itself is a new action and thus the starting point of a new cycle (see Fig.€27.2). This five phase model is called the ALACT model (named after the first letters of the five phases).
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The Case of Judith Here is an example (derived from Korthagen et€al. 2001, pp. 44–45) of a student teacher in secondary education, Judith, going through the phases of the ALACT model, under the guidance of a teacher educator: Judith is irritated about a student named Jim. She has the feeling that Jim always tries to avoid doing any work. Today she again notices this. In the preceding lesson, the children are given an assignment for three lessons to work on in pairs, and at the end to hand in a written report. Today, during the second lesson, Judith has expected everyone to be hard at work on the assignment, and to be using this second lesson as an opportunity to ask her help. However, Jim appears to be busy with something completely different. In the lesson, she reacts by saying: “Oh, so again you are not doing what you should be doing.... I think the two of you will again end up with an insufficient result!” (Phase 1: action). During the supervision, Judith becomes more aware of her irritation and how this influenced her action. When the supervisor asks her what might have been the effect of her reaction on Jim, she realizes that her irritated reaction might, in turn, have caused irritation in Jim, probably causing him to be even more unwilling to work on the assignment. (Phase 2: looking back) The supervisor also asks Judith what she knows about Jim’s interests and his behavior in the other classes, and she realizes that in fact she has very little knowledge of this. Through this analysis, she becomes aware of the escalating negativity evolving between her and Jim, and she starts to realize how this leads to a dead-end road (Phase 3: awareness of essential aspects). She starts to realize that the escalation taking place between her and the student, is contrary to what she really wants: a relationship with Jim that is beneficial to learning. This makes Judith feel sad, but she does not see a way out of this escalation. Her supervisor shows an understanding of Judith’s struggle. She also introduces some theoretical notions about escalating processes in the relationship between teachers and students, such as the often recurring pattern of “more of the same” (Watzlawick et€al. 1974) and the guidelines to de-escalate by changing this pattern and being more empathetic or by deliberately giving a positive reaction. This is the start of phase 4: creating alternative methods of action. She compares these guidelines with her impulse to be even more strict and put more constraints on Jim. Finally, she decides to try out (phase 5) a more positive and empathetic approach, which starts by asking Jim about his plans, as she becomes aware of the fact that she does not know at all what he really wants. This is first tried out within the supervision session: the supervisor asks Judith to practice such reactions and includes a mini-training in using “feeling-words.” If the results of this new approach are reflected on after trying it out in the real situation with Jim, phase 5 becomes the first phase of the next cycle of the ALACT model, thus creating a spiral of professional development.
Nine Fields First of all, this case illustrates that the reflection process is not so much aimed at abstract conceptualization, but at more awareness in Judith of what is really going on between her and the student, in other words developing a relational awareness. To develop such awareness, Judith has to become aware of her thoughts, but also of her emotions and needs, and how they influence her behavior. But she also has to understand the situation from the student’s point of view (what does the student think, feel, want), which for many novice teachers is a big step to take. Hence, Korthagen (2001a) has elaborated phase 2 of the reflection process by means of the technique of “the nine fields” (Fig.€27.3):
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What did the other(s) think?
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What did you do?
What did the other(s) do?
8.
Fig.€27.3╅ Concretizing questions for phase 2 of the ALACT model
Field no. 0 deals with looking back on what was relevant in the whole context, for example Jim’s interests and his behavior in the other classes. The supervisory process described above shows how the other eight fields (1–8) play out in the reflection process and help Judith develop the necessary relational awareness: she becomes aware of the fruitless escalation taking place and of her own contribution to it. The technique of the nine fields is thus helpful in realizing a connection between phase 1 and phase 3. The example also shows that in phase 3, a need for more theoretical elements can emerge (abstract conceptualization in terms of Kolb and Fry). Theory can then be introduced by an educator or supervisor, but if the personal dimension of the five-phase process is taken seriously, the choice of this theory, as well as its translation into practice needs to be tailored to the specific needs and concerns of the practitioner and the situation under reflection. Korthagen (2001a) emphasizes that in the supervision of practitioners, it is not enough for supervisors to help them go through the ALACT model. He calls this “helping to reflect.” More important is “helping to learn how to reflect,” which means that the ownership of the reflection process should gradually be put into the hands of the practitioner. In order for this to happen, it is important that the practitioner is aware of the underlying principles of the reflection process, especially of the five phases of the ALACT model, and of the nine fields of Fig.€27.3 that help the reflection move from phase 1 to 3. If teachers acquire this insight and the skills to go through the phases of the ALACT model on their own, they develop a growth competence: the ability to direct their own professional development. This can also help them to play an active role in future change processes in their work environment and thus promote their innovative capacity (Wubbels and Korthagen 1990).
Drawbacks of Traditional Conceptualizations of Reflection The ALACT model has been used in teacher education for many years. In the Netherlands, where it was developed, it is at present the main reflection model in most programs of teacher education and in a few programs of nursing education. It also appeared useful to educators and students in many other countries, such as Australia, Belgium, Canada, Denmark, Finland, Germany, Israel, Norway, and the United States, where many teacher educators have been using it either as an additional or as the key framework for promoting reflection in teachers, nurses, and other professional groups. During the many years of international experience with the ALACT model, the model itself also appeared to have some weaknesses, although these often seem to have to do more with the way it is being used than with the model itself. It also became clear that these are weaknesses not so much inherent to the specific approach to reflection, but to the way in which the whole concept of reflection is commonly being conceptualized world-wide. In other words, through close
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scrutiny of the weaknesses of this specific view of reflection, we believe that we have discovered a couple of essential issues in the way the concept of reflection is being used, also within other approaches, which need to be addressed. In the next sections, we will discuss these issues, together with the steps taken to overcome these weaknesses. These steps have gradually led to what is now called Core Reflection, and an adaptation of the ALACT model (the Core Reflection model).
Process and Content Improving the ALACT Model A first weakness of the way in which the ALACT model is often being used, is that while reflecting by going through the five phases, practitioners still focus on finding quick solutions and not so much on the underlying phenomena in the practical situation under reflection. In such cases, phase 1 of the model is an experience that was dissatisfying, for example a discipline problem in a teacher’s classroom, phase 2 (looking back) is nothing more than the conclusion that it was a bad experience, phase 3 (awareness of essential aspects) is that the kids should have been more quiet, phase 4 (creating alternative methods of action) that stricter teacher behavior is needed. If in phase 5 (trial) such a “reflection” appears not to work out well, student teachers often start to criticize the ALACT model for not being very helpful. As we have already noted, such reactions to models for reflection are not confined to the ALACT model. Already many years ago, Hoy and Woolfolk (1989) concluded that students often consider reflection as impractical and unhelpful in solving their problems, while being unaware of the fact that this first of all has to do with the quality of their reflection. Hence, the first step toward further improvement of our concept of reflection, was the insight that the ALACT model is a helpful process model, but that it does not support the practitioner in knowing what to reflect on, and that this can easily make the reflection somewhat superficial. Especially in complex and recurring problematic situations, a type of reflection which only focuses on one’s previous and future behavior is counterproductive. As many authors emphasize, strong professional development processes should include the possibility of second-order changes, i.e., changes in the underlying sources of behavior (Levy and Mary 1986). In order for such more transformational changes to take place, deeper layers need to be touched upon (see also the Conclusion section of this chapter). For this reason, we have supplemented the ALACT model with a model describing possible contents of reflection at six different levels.
The Onion Model This so-called onion model is a variant of the Bateson model (see Dilts 1990 and Korthagen 2004) and is presented in Fig.€27.4. We can explain the meaning of the six levels with the aid of Judith’s case, described in section “The ALACT Model of Reflection.” This case not only shows the five phases of the reflection process, but also illustrates on what kinds of content the reflection can focus: 1. The environment: This refers to everything that Judith encounters outside of herself. In her case, it means Peter and the way he behaves (note that his behavior is an aspect of
27â•… Going to the Core: Deepening Reflection by Connecting the Person to the Profession
Environment
Behaviour Competencies Beliefs Identity Mission
What is it you have to cope with? (What influences you?) What do you do? What can you do? What do you believe in? Who are you? (How do you see your role in ………?) Why are you here? (To what larger whole do you feel committed?)
Fig.€27.4â•… The onion model showing six levels of reflection (© Korthagen and Vasalos 2005)
Judith’s environment), but also the whole context Judith finds herself in, which includes, e.g., the whole classroom setting, the curriculum, and the school culture with all its implicit and explicit norms. 2. Behavior: The reflection may focus on less effective behavior, such as an irritated response, as well as possibly more effective behavior (e.g., showing empathy). 3. Competencies: For example, the competency to respond empathetically. 4. Beliefs: Perhaps Judith believes that Peter is not motivated or even that he is trying to cause trouble. (Novice teachers often assume that pupils are “testing” them.) With the term beliefs we refer to assumptions about the world around us, which are often unconscious. We will now discuss two levels that are not explicitly touched upon in the example, although one may notice that they are implicitly embedded in the supervisory conversation: 5. Professional identity: For Judith it may be important to reflect on how she views her own professional identity (Beijaard 1995), i.e., what kind of teacher she thinks she is and what kind of teacher she wants to be. Does she want to be a kind of strict police officer, or does she aim at being a stimulating guide and supportive person to students? 6. Mission: Reflection at this level would even go one step further and would deal with questions such as why Judith decided to become a teacher in the first place, or even what she sees as her calling in the world. In essence, this level is concerned with what inspires us, and what gives meaning and significance to our work or our lives (see for an elaboration of the issue of the teacher’s calling, e.g., Hansen 1995; Korthagen 2004; Palmer 1998). Whereas the level of identity has to do with how we experience ourselves and our self-concept, the level of mission is about “the experience of being part of meaningful wholes and in harmony with supra-individual units such as family, social group, culture and cosmic order” (Boucouvalas 1988, pp. 57–58). Hence, this is also the level of meaning making in a religious sense. It is interesting that although the latter two levels seem to be implicitly present in the supervision of Judith as described in the case, they are not brought to an explicit level in the conversation. Based on an analysis of many supervisory sessions in a variety of professions,
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we have come to believe that this very often is the case. It appears as if supervisors or coaches are hesitant to touch upon these levels, as they are often considered belonging to a more private domain, or because they are associated with therapy. We think that this is regrettable, as in this way many opportunities for deep professional learning could be missed. As soon as people are more in touch with their own identity and mission, this not only creates a change of perspective toward the daily hassles of the profession, but it also opens up the doors to more transformational changes. It may also lead to new types of behavior that are more in line with people’s missions and inner potentials. The latter issue refers to the essence of the onion model: as soon as a person is more in touch with the inner levels, this can begin to influence the outer levels. Once such a link between the “inside” and the “outside” is established, the reflection process starts helping to connect the “core” of the person to effective behavior in the outside world. This is why we have coined the term Core Reflection for reflection in which all the levels of the onion model are being connected.
From a Focus on Problems to a Focus on Strengths We noticed that by stimulating in teachers this connection between their “inner core” and their interaction with the outer world, something interesting happened in how they experienced their work situations. People started to become more enthusiastic and motivated for the profession. Even more importantly, they seemed more happy with the impact and effectiveness of their behavior, and so did their educators or supervisors. We decided to start empirical studies into this phenomenon (see, e.g., Meijer et€al. 2009), and found that the process resulting from a stronger connection between the various onion levels could be framed in terms of the concept of flow. Flow has been described by Csikszentmihalyi (1990) as a state of being completely in the here-and-now, optimally connecting the demands of the situation with one’s inner capacities. In other words, the onion model appeared not only as an instrument for deepening the reflection process, but also for creating more flow in student teachers, and hence more enthusiasm for “doing reflection,” and for enhancing more effective teaching. Our experiences with the new Core Reflection approach stimulated our interest in the work of Mihalyi Csikszentmihalyi, and we were excited to learn that around the turn of the millennium, together with Martin Seligman, he developed a new branch of psychology, called positive psychology, in which the notion of flow has taken a central position in the thinking about human growth. Seligman and Csikszentmihalyi (2000, p. 7) argue that positive psychology is a reaction to the fact that for too long psychologists have focused on pathology, weakness, and damage done to people, and hence on “treatments.” Seligman and Csikszentmihalyi emphasize that “treatment is not just fixing what is broken; it is nurturing what is best.” Hence, they point towards the importance of people’s personal strengths, such as creativity, courage, perseverance, kindness, and fairness (Seligman 2002; Snyder and Lopez 2007). Almaas (1986, p. 148) refers to such qualities as “essential aspects”, which he considers absolute in the sense that they cannot be further reduced to something else, or analyzed into more basic constituents. He emphasizes that there is a wide variety of such qualities. We can identify dozens of them if we look at people from this perspective. Much work in positive psychology has focused on naming and categorizing such qualities. A central focus in positive psychology is the idea that people can use their personal qualities to optimally act in the world, so that their actions are both effective and personally fulfilling. This made us very aware of a second weakness in the way the ALACT model is often being used, namely the tendency to focus on problematic aspects. Phase 1 of the model,
27â•… Going to the Core: Deepening Reflection by Connecting the Person to the Profession
which means the experience to reflect on, often became synonymous to “a problematic situation.” This is again a tendency that is not so much inherent only to our own approach, but which seems to surface in almost all approaches to reflection. People often have the habit of lingering longer with things that went wrong than with successes. A side-effect is that somehow this fosters a feeling of inadequacy in them. Research has demonstrated that such a focus on weakness and deficiencies leads to a narrowing of available action tendencies (Fredrickson 2002; Fredrickson and Losada 2005): the person is inclined to think within the boundaries of the problematic framework (see also Levenson 1992). To put it in everyday terms: through negative emotions about their experiences, people tend to move into a kind of “tunnel thinking.” As noted above, in positive psychology the focus is not so much on deficiencies and problems, but on strengths. In our own practices of promoting reflection, this has helped us see that when people apply Core Reflection, and thus link the various onion levels with each other, they often arrive at a state of flow, and get more in touch with their personal strengths. In conclusion, our discovery was that a basic characteristic of Core Reflection is that it helps people actualize their personal strengths. Following Ofman (2000), we decided to name these strengths core qualities. According to Ofman, such core qualities are always potentially present in the person. It is interesting to note that until recently, educators and educational researchers seem to have had little awareness of the key role of such qualities in professional development: “In policy and practice the identification and development of personal qualities, at the interface between aspects of one’s personal virtues and one’s professional life, between personhood and teacherhood, if you will, has had scant attention” (Tickle 1999, p. 123). In the context of teaching, Tickle mentions such qualities as empathy, compassion, love, and flexibility. These are indeed essential qualities for teachers, qualities seldom appearing in the official lists of important basic teaching competencies. To us, it became important to support practitioners not only to reflect on the various onion levels, but also to use this Core Reflection to become more aware of their core qualities. This new view of reflection concurs with what Fredrickson (2002) calls the broaden-and-build model, and aims at the state of optimal functioning that we can refer to as flow.
From Reflection as “Thinking” to Awareness of the Whole Human Being A next step in the further development of our approach emerged through the insight that, to many practitioners but also to their educators, reflection is often synonymous with thinking, or – at best – structured thinking. Although the specification of phase 2 of the ALACT model presented in Fig.€ 27.3, is helpful in bringing awareness of feelings and needs into the reflection process, it often leads to thinking about feelings, instead of what Damasio (1999, pp. 279–295) calls feeling the feelings. This probably has to do with the fact that much of professional education takes place within academic settings, where there is a strong emphasis on rational thinking. However, as already discussed in section “Understanding the Relation Between Practice and Reflection,” teachers – and probably all professionals working with other people – are as much guided by their emotions and needs as they are by their thinking (Hargreaves 1998a, b; Deci and Ryan 2000; Evelein et€ al. 2008). In an empirical study into informal learning of teachers, Hoekstra (2007) concluded that the emotional and motivational factors determining teacher behavior have been rather undervalued in the literature, and in our general thinking about professional development. Recent research in neurobiology, too, has yielded a strong evidence for the close relations between cognition and emotion in humans in general (e.g., Immordino-Yang and Damasio 2007).
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We noticed that the tendency to focus on rational thinking had serious consequences for the actualization of core qualities. People may cognitively know or understand that they possess the quality of care, or the quality of decisiveness, but this is rather different from being in touch with these qualities, really experiencing your strengths and acting upon them. Moreover, if there is an obstacle to actualizing one’s core qualities, this also requires more than just cognitive insight into these obstacles. For example, a teacher who has an inhibiting belief such as “I can never deal with this class,” needs more than merely cognitive awareness of the limiting impact of this belief: she needs to really feel that through this belief, she makes herself weak and vulnerable, and how beneficial it is to reconnect with the feelings related to her core qualities of courage, vision and decisiveness, in order to let go of the inhibiting belief. In short, our analysis led to the insight that a focus on strengths alone is not sufficient, but that what is needed is cognitive, emotional and motivational awareness of both one’s strengths, and of one’s inner obstacles to the actualization of one’s strengths. Of course, we realize that external obstacles (for example, an unmotivated class) are also highly relevant and can trigger these internal obstacles (for example, in the form of inhibiting beliefs or inhibiting self-concepts), but we believe that for self-directed professional growth to take place, the inner obstacles to the realization of one’s full potential in particular deserve careful attention within the reflective process.
From a Focus on the Past to a Focus on the Future There is a famous Kierkegaard quote: “Life can only be understood backward, but it must be lived forward.” His message seems self-evident, and indeed, in our professional field the idea is very common that we can only develop an understanding about ourselves and our environment by looking back on our experiences. In fact, this notion is intrinsically so much linked to the concept of reflection that it took us quite a while before we began to discover its weakness. Although we do not want to suggest that it is not important to learn from your past experiences, it is also relevant to see that the common view of reflection always creates a distance between the here-and-now and the reflective process: in fact what we normally reflect on, is something that happened in the past, even though this “past” may have taken place a few seconds ago. Hence, this creates the risk that our awareness is limited by the past experience and its features, for as Osberg and Biesta (2007) describe it, we tend to view reality from the specific perspective of what has happened. Especially when the past situation is being experienced as negative, the person reflecting can easily be drawn into the “tunnel thinking” we discussed above, which has been shown to be almost automatically induced by negative feelings (Fredrickson 2002). This often leads to a “reactive” way of dealing with reality, which is – according to Fredrickson – accompanied by a lack of creativity. In such situations, it is not self-evident that we are in touch with our strengths, our core qualities. Of course, the ALACT model does not force us only to reflect on negative situations. We can also reflect on successful experiences, and one important way to help people get into touch with their core qualities is exactly having a focus on successes instead of failures. On the other hand, we cannot close our eyes to the fact that people quite often want to take time to reflect on situations experienced as negative: they trigger our wish to understand the past. But even then, there is no need to stick to an analysis of what went wrong. We may notice that the reflection process described by models such as the ALACT model is always also aimed at anticipation: phase 4 of the ALACT model is focused on developing new courses of action leading to greater success. This implies that during the reflection process, the person has some kind of ideal situation in mind, which he or she will try to
27â•… Going to the Core: Deepening Reflection by Connecting the Person to the Profession
reach in phase 5. The idea to focus more on this ideal situation appeared to create a breakthrough in the Core Reflection approach. We discovered that it is not always necessary to first analyze the problematic features of a situation in full depth in order to arrive at a notion of the ideal situation. Reflection on one’s ideal may even be a very effective way of understanding the essence of the problem the person encountered. This led us to take successes or ideals as the starting point of the reflection process, instead of problematic situations. As we can see a success as a situation coming close to one’s ideal, a more general way of describing our new insight is that it is very effective to start a reflection process aimed at finding one’s strengths and at a creative process, by focusing on the “ideal situation.” Such an approach appears to bring people into touch with positive feelings and their natural potential for flow, as demonstrated by Meijer et€al. (2009). This concurs with the empirical finding that positive feelings foster creativity (Fredrickson 2002). This new step in the development of our approach solved two problems simultaneously. First, it helped us get rid of the negative feelings often associated with the situations people reflect on, and thus with the “tunnel effect” in the person reflecting. Second, it solved the problem of how people can become aware of their core qualities if they have not been in touch with them during the situation reflected on (which is often the case). If a person describes his or her ideal situation, and if this person is not only cognitively engaged in this projection into the future, but also emotionally and motivationally in touch with this ideal, the step toward becoming aware of the core qualities embedded in one’s “ideal functioning” will suddenly be very small. For example, if in the case of Judith (see section “The ALACT Model of Reflection”), she would describe her ideal situation as one in which she would have a good relationship with Jim and in which Jim would be more motivated for the lessons, and if she would feel how it would be if this would happen (emotional awareness), and if she would also feel her strong desire to achieve this ideal (motivational awareness), she could easily discover her core quality of care. And if not, an experienced supervisor, competent at promoting Core Reflection, could help her become aware of the fact that this quality is implied in her ideal. The fact that ideals and core qualities are so closely connected is in line with the onion model. Ideals often resonate with the most inner level of mission: they have to do with our deepest desires, our sense of meaning in life, and thus with our core, our full potential as human beings. The steps in the development of our view of reflection which were described above, can be summarized in an adaptation of the ALACT model which we first published in Dutch in 2001 (Korthagen 2001b), and later in English (Korthagen and Vasalos 2005). It is represented in Fig.€27.5. It is important to emphasize once again that this model does not function well if the person reflecting uses it as a purely mental exercise: in each stage, thoughts, feelings and needs (or desires) have to be addressed, and brought into full awareness. What we discuss here is the important shift from looking back on a situation to becoming aware of one’s ideal and one’s core qualities connected to it, which helps create more professional fulfillment, and “vocational vitality” (Intrator and Kunzman 2006a, p. 17). We can still call this reflection, but it is rather different from analyzing past experiences in order to learn from them.
Presence and Mindfulness This brings us to a final and crucial step in the development of Core Reflection which we wish to discuss, and which will be the main focus of the remainder of this contribution. Above, we have talked about the shift from reflection on the past towards the awareness
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Actualisation of core qualities How can these core qualities be mobilised?
4 Awareness of core qualities
What core quality is needed to realise the ideal situation and overcome the limitations?
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3
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Experimenting with new behaviour Experience / problematic situation What problems did you encounter (or are you still encountering)?
2 a. Awareness of ideal situation What do/did you want to achieve or create?
b. Awareness of limitations
(limiting behaviour, feelings, images, beliefs) How were/are you refraining yourself from achieving this?
Fig.€27.5╅ Phase model of Core Reflection (Korthagen and Vasalos 2005)
of our ideal future, as a means of getting into touch with personal strengths, and of overcoming the inhibitions or obstacles preventing people from realizing their ideals. Yet, a more crucial step is to shift from both reflecting on the past or the future to a focus on the here-and-now. What we aim at is overcoming the gap between the here-and-now and the past, and even the gap between the here-and-now and the future, and to use our human capacity in reflection to realize our full potential in the here-and-now. Senge et€al. (2004) and Scharmer (2007) have proposed a revolutionary view on human development that makes this possibility concrete. We will use their “Theory U” to explain how Core Reflection may be used for the step toward realizing one’s full potential in the here-and-now. Our discussion is based on a slight adaptation of the U-model developed by Senge et€al. (2004), which is shown in Fig.€27.6. The horizontal arrow in the model represents the standard manner in which our thinking often tries to find solutions to problems. Scharmer (2007) describes this as the “downloading” of solutions from our brain. These solutions are always “old” in the sense that they have been stored in our memory as condensed former experience, and they limit our potential to find fundamentally different approaches. As David Bohm said, “normally, our thoughts have us rather than we are having them” (Bohm 1994). Indeed, this phenomenon is what we referred to above as the tunnel thinking often restricting us in finding new creative solutions. Such tunnel thinking may even take place when thinking about our ideals, as we are often restricted by our previous experiences when thinking about the future. As Osberg and Biesta (2007) formulate it very clearly, the past always limits our awareness of what might become real, but never has been. How can we overcome this limiting influence of the past on our reflection on what can be created now? Senge and his colleagues advocate a couple of measures. First, it is important to suspend our tendency of trying to find a solution (compare our own discussion at the beginning of this chapter on the tendency in practitioners to find quick-fixes to problems). They state that effective professional behavior requires a deeper process which they describe with the U-turn shown in Fig.€27.6. Second, the alternative they propose is based on reflection with what they call an open mind, an open heart, and an open will. This concurs with our above discussion on the
27╅ Going to the Core: Deepening Reflection by Connecting the Person to the Profession Fig.€27.6╅ Downloading versus the U-turn
•
PERSON
downloading
PROBLEM
OPEN MIND OPEN HEART OPEN WILL
FLOW
PRESENCE: in touch with one’s core potential importance of including thinking, feeling and wanting in the reflection process. This leads to a deepening of the reflection process, described by the U-shape in Fig.€27.6. At the bottom of the U, the practitioner arrives at a state of being that Senge and his colleagues call presence. Rodgers and Raider-Roth (2006, p. 267) give the following definition of presence, which we will use in our further discussion: Presence from the teacher’s point of view is the experience of bringing one’s whole self to full attention so as to perceive what is happening in the moment.
Hence, presence is a state of being in which one is sensitive to the flow of events (Rodgers 2002, p. 235). Greene (1973, p. 162) called it “wide-awakeness.” Presence is related to the concept of mindfulness (Germer et€al. 2005; Kabat-Zinn 1990), a concept originating from Buddhism, and which is currently rapidly influencing western psychology (Brown and Ryan 2003). Mindfulness can be understood as “full awareness” (see, e.g., Mingyur Rinpoche 2007), and differs from conceptual awareness in the sense that “its mode of functioning is perceptual or prereflexive” (Brown and Ryan 2003). On the basis of the state of presence, and through the connection with one’s core potentials in the here-and-now, a creative process can surface bringing the person into a state of flow in which new possibilities are enacted. The type of “solution” to the problem that comes into being through this U-shaped process is of a much higher quality than a solution based on mere “downloading.” But even this is a limiting way of describing the process and the outcome: the new way of relating to the problem is not so much a “solution,” but a new way of being in relationship with the problem, and it is not so much a matter of higher quality according to some professional criterion, but a matter of actualizing one’s full potential in the here-and-now. This is a creative process in which we overcome “historical ways of making sense” (Senge et€al. 2004, p. 13). As a result, the future emerges from the present, as Osberg and Biesta (2007) describe it. They argue that through this process, possibilities can come into being that “are inconceivable from what has come before, are created or somehow come into being for the fist time” (p. 33). In line with this, Senge et€ al. (2004, p. 13) cite W. Brian Arthur, noted economist of the Santa Fe Institute, who said: “Every profound innovation is based on an inward-bound journey, on going to a deeper place where knowing comes to the surface.”
Presence in Practice How can we use these ideas to improve reflection? What does it mean in a practical sense? First, it shows us the possibility that the practitioner reflecting is not so much concerned with what has happened or what he or she would like to happen (the past or the future), but is present with full awareness of what is in the here-and-now, both inside and outside
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the person. If the practitioner has an open mind, open heart, and open will, then personal strengths, insights and possibilities can surface creating a new relationship between the practitioner and the environment. Below, we discuss an example derived from an empirical study into such an approach to reflection. In this study, we followed one individual student teacher, Paulien, during her first year of teaching in secondary education, in which she was supported in developing “presence while teaching,” as we have come to name it. This support took place in the form of seven supervisory sessions with one of the developers of the Core Reflection approach (Angelo Vasalos). Based on audio-taped supervisory sessions, Paulien’s logbook, and two semistructured interviews, the relation between supervisor interventions and Paulien’s professional development was analyzed, which indeed revealed a development toward more presence. Below, we will present a few excerpts from the process that took place, a process more fully documented in Meijer et€al. (2009). At the start of the year, Paulien describes her problem as follows: I just can’t seem to focus on the essence of a lesson. It’s too chaotic: in class as well as in my head.
During the first supervision session, the supervisor, Angelo, notices her tendency to ignore the value of successes, and to focus all of her attention on problems and the related negative feelings: Angelo: … I notice that the moment I give you positive feedback, you seem not to receive this, you seem not to let it get through to you. You seem to back away from it… [….] I find it interesting to address your essential qualities or core qualities here: I see a lot of playfulness, excitement in you as you are talking about the students and how you stimulate them, and I see how you enjoy their motivation at that very moment. These are some of the qualities that I notice. And as we are talking about what exactly happens at that moment in that classroom, then I see you provoke humor in these students. That’s an important core quality. I also see the quality of involvement: everybody is extremely involved in the task, the assignments you give them. So now I’m curious: what does it do to you to see these qualities in yourself and in your students? So, in the lesson you give, you know how to evoke and activate these qualities, in yourself as well as in your students. […] Paulien: Well, yes, now you mention this, I knew of course, as I said earlier, that the lesson just went well, and I was thinking how can I hold on to this. And the fact that you now label this, I think, well, it seems to become a bit more tangible or understandable. […] Apparently, I’ve done something that made it go that way, but what? I understand that a bit better now. It also reassures me a bit, apparently it’s not a coincidence if it should happen again. Maybe I can even prepare myself for it. [….] Angelo: So we might say that it is important to perceive and recognize these qualities? To be able to differentiate between them, label them, analyze them and reflect on them? Isn’t this important? Paulien: Yes, I feel so now, yes. It eventually is. Even though I told so many people about what happened. Angelo: Mm. Paulien: But I now think this is what happened, yes. And I like this, I mean, I can think about the situation from a different angle, I like that.
Here we can see a shift taking place in Paulien, from a limited perception of the situation towards an attitude of an “open mind, open heart, open will.” During the first session, Paulien gradually becomes more aware of the importance of recognizing and appreciating her core qualities and the influence of this awareness on her students. It also becomes clear that although she can recognize some of her core qualities during the supervision, i.e., after the teaching experience, she does not feel them consciously while teaching. In fact, during her lessons she is not very aware of herself at all. Paulien writes in her logbook: One way or another, I seem not to be in the center of my teaching, I wait for what’s going to happen, let it happen to me as it were. Why do I do it like this? […] I seem to more or less “protect” myself, apparently I don’t have the guts to be completely in my lesson?
27â•… Going to the Core: Deepening Reflection by Connecting the Person to the Profession
Here Paulien becomes more aware of her not being present in the here-and-now, which at the same time promotes her desire to be more fully present. During the next days, she starts “to move down the U”: through a more open mind, open heart, and open will, she becomes more aware of herself, her ideal and her core qualities, but this also creates confusion and anxieties. She wonders: “If I start to feel more, can I still function well?” During the supervision, it becomes clear that this is a fundamental obstacle: Paulien is afraid to feel her feelings (compare section “From Reflection as ‘thinking’ to Awareness of the Whole Human Being”), as she believes that if she opens herself fully to her feelings, she might not be able to cope with them when they are negative. She is afraid of being overwhelmed by her feelings (and even fears that she might faint), and thus tends to stick to rational thinking. After this obstacle has been explored in the supervision session through thinking about it, feeling the feelings around the theme, and focusing on wanting (how does Paulien really want to be), a breakthrough is visible in Paulien’s logbook: When Merel [a pupil] told me last week that the lesson was chaotic, I tried at that moment to feel my feelings in the here-and-now. I managed to do so for a moment, but I immediately felt dizzy, very unpleasant. Apparently, the mechanism to protect myself is not there for no reason. What did I protect myself from? Let me recall the situation… if my feeling is right, I think I wanted to protect myself from a feeling of being rejected… Yes, that’s it, that’s how I felt. Strange, when I think this through, this is kind of weird. Merel did not reject me (as a person) at all, she only judged part of my behavior, namely my not acting when there is chaos in the classroom… Insight! Oh, this feels great, I feel much calmer now. Why do I do this only five days later? Why can’t I do this any sooner? Even during the lesson, as Angelo would like me to? Yes, yes, uncertainty, fear to get hurt… but if I hadn’t done this little exercise now, I would have entered the classroom a lot more negatively tomorrow, I think. I don’t have to change as a person, I “just” have to learn some behavioral stuff. Well, this sounds a lot less threatening…
What is apparent in this logbook fragment is that Paulien starts to connect thinking about her experiences with feeling the feelings, and that she also becomes more aware of what she wants. In other words, she becomes more autonomous in balancing her cognitive, emotional as well as motivational awareness in her reflection. In the supervision, Angelo helps her further develop her awareness of both her ideal of being fully present in the here-and-now, in touch with her core qualities, and her inhibiting pattern of “not feeling”: Angelo: So what would it be like if you would not believe this thought of “I might faint” anymore? But instead see the thought just as it is: an assumption that is definitely wrong, a misconception. The whole idea that you might faint because of certain feelings is just … a misconception, which only has an effect if you believe in it. Paulien: It would mean that I would have confidence in… just in me. That I would know I wouldn’t faint in those kind of moments. That I would manage. That it would be okay. Angelo: If you just stick to that. How would that be. What do you feel? Paulien: Yes, that’s an extremely happy feeling. That’s really… it really makes me happy. Angelo: What exactly triggers that happy feeling? Paulien: The idea that I do not have to be afraid.
This episode is an example of phase 2 of the Core Reflection model, in which both the ideal and the inhibition get attention. One can see this as a technique of contrasting two opposite poles: the organic expansive movement of our inner potential versus our inhibiting conditioned behavioral and thought patterns. Naturally, the human organism always strives for a reduction of the tension between these poles, which helps create a breakthrough. Under Angelo’s guidance, Paulien starts to differentiate herself from her feelings: she experiences that she has feelings, but she also experiences that she is more than her feelings (a principle formulated by Assagioli 1965). She starts to recognize her potential of being fully present in the here-and-now as being more fundamental than both her mental constructs
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and the emotional effects of these constructs. Through this awareness, her capacity to stay in the here-and-now, while feeling the feelings, is growing: Paulien: I feel kind of pleased that I allow myself …[to feel]. I AM allowed to not like certain things! Angelo: That sounds very accepting! “I AM allowed to not like certain things.” Paulien: Yes!! Paulien: It’s allowed! [….] In fact, it would be rather strange if I didn’t feel it that way! Angelo: Great! You’re beaming with joy! Paulien: I’m really happy, yes! (laughs) Yes, you know, when I think this over, and feeling like this, it’s not just me for which it’s much more pleasant, but also for my pupils.
Here we can see the right side of the U-turn take form. In Paulien’s logbook, key words are “self-acceptance” and “I am not my feelings”. One week later, her logbook shows that she gradually starts daring “to be herself” while teaching: I notice on all fronts that I’m feeling more “me” among the students. I felt great and totally “present”. […] I was aware that I felt relaxed. And that precisely this relaxed feeling made me feel really “free” in my actions in class. I noticed that this felt relaxed and “natural”.
A couple of weeks later, she writes: I feel stronger every minute, it feels like I’m more and more the manager of what we are doing in class. I’m more and more in charge, while on the other hand I feel I’m more and more letting pupils take charge as well.
During the final supervisory sessions, Angelo supports Paulien’s autonomy in Core Reflection and being present, by (1) promoting reflection on the meaning of presence, (2) stimulating Paulien to imagine how it would be to be always fully present in the classroom, (3) helping her to deconstruct inhibiting beliefs that suppress the experience of presence, and (4) making the Core Reflection theory explicit. This leads to conversations such as the following: Paulien: I do believe that I am much more, that more and more I learn to genuinely be. It gives such a happy feeling [laughs]. It specifically comes to me in sudden realizations. Then there is this sudden insight and then BANG, I am. Something like that. Then I’m very aware of, well, yes, of me Angelo: And what does this mean to you, when you teach from this sense of being, or, being a teacher who’s able to teach from her inner sense of being? Imagine you would always be able to teach from your sense of being, your inner self? What would this mean? Paulien: Well, it would save so much of your energy. If you’re really yourself – I know it’s strange, but it’s really hard to be yourself – but if you finally succeed in being yourself, everything just comes naturally. But I find it very difficult, when I loose touch with myself, to reconnect with myself. Angelo: It’s just an imaginary construction in your mind. At such a moment, first you have to recognize it, then you have to name it, reflect on it, and then you have to connect to it. Then the process will start from the inside, from yourself. Paulien: So, what you’re actually saying is that this feeling that nothing really touches me, so this dissociating that I’m doing, that this is just something I created myself?! Angelo: Yes, you were not born that way, you acquired it. Paulien: O well, then I immediately want to get rid of it, it’s so irritating! It’s very annoying. Angelo: It’s very annoying indeed. And you don’t want it. Paulien: No!
In an interview at the end of the supervisory process, Paulien describes her newly developed potential for presence:
27â•… Going to the Core: Deepening Reflection by Connecting the Person to the Profession Paulien: Well, yes, for example, during a lesson in which I forget to be myself so to speak, I notice this during the lesson, and I can do something about it. Interviewer: Could you describe this? I find that interesting. How do you notice this? What is this “noticing”? Paulien: Well, that I hear myself talking. I hear myself and then I think something like “how would she finish this sentence?” Like I’m thinking about myself in the third person, something like that. Interviewer: So you notice that this is happening, and what happens then? Paulien: Then I don’t panic like I used to. Interviewer: You don’t panic. Paulien: No, then I’m thinking “oh, here I’m doing it again.” And then I immediately think “well, I don’t want this, and I don’t need to, it’s nonsense”. And then I turn around as it were… then I start focusing on the fact that I don’t want this, and sometimes I need some time to do so, but that’s okay, I do take that time now. Earlier, I felt “well, I need to finish this sentence no matter what, or I need to finish my story”, a very stressful feeling, but now I will think “okay, I need some rest now”. And then I can call this ‘being present’ to the fore really easily. It just comes. In the beginning I needed some deep breaths to do so, and to focus on my stomach… I know this sounds strange, but that’s how it goes for me.
When in a final interview, Paulien was asked what was the essence of the whole learning process to her, she said: This sense of being-while-teaching was what I felt to be the most crucial aspect of my process of becoming a teacher.
Essential Characteristics of Core Reflection Aimed at a State of Presence We believe Paulien’s last quote is a powerful way of phrasing the significance of the notion of presence for professional behavior. It can be generalized to other professions by stating that the essence of “professional presence” is the state of being fully present while behaving professionally. In their analysis of the approach used in the case of Paulien, Meijer et€al. (2009) formulate the following seven tenets of Core Reflection as fundamental to the supervisory process: 1. Promoting awareness of ideals and core qualities in the person related to the situation reflected on, as a means of strengthening awareness of the levels of identity and mission. 2. Identifying internal obstacles to acting out these ideals and core qualities (i.e., promoting awareness of a disharmony between the onion levels). 3. Promoting awareness of the cognitive, emotional and motivational aspects embedded in 1 and 2. 4. Promoting a state of presence in which the person is fully aware (cognitively and emotionally) of the friction between 1 and 2, and the self-created nature of the internal obstacles. 5. Trust in the process taking place from within the person. 6. Support of acting out one’s inner potential within the situation under reflection. 7. Promoting autonomy in using Core Reflection. Underlying these tenets are a couple of assumptions about the nature of professional development aiming at a state of being while acting professionally. We will now discuss three fundamental assumptions.
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Deep Professional Development Requires an Integration of the Personal and the Professional Domain If we want fundamental professional development to take place, including second-order changes, we believe it is impossible to completely separate the personal and the professional, as Paulien’s case illustrates. This could lead to questions about the boundary between supervision and therapy. One might worry about the risk that integrating the personal and professional domain opens up a “dangerous area,” which we should leave to therapists. We believe that the source of this worry may be that most people associate “going deeper” with delving into problems and traumatic experiences. However, this is exactly what Seligman and Csikszentmihalyi (2000) point to as the traditional, ineffective view of psychology on human growth. Core Reflection, in contrast, aims at building on people’s strengths, and on the positive feelings triggered when people are feeling in touch with their strengths. Through this, they can get into another state of being, which creates flow. We believe that there is nothing dangerous about this, and that it can even be dangerous not to support people struggling with severe professional problems, in getting in touch with their core potential. Of course, Core Reflection can have consequences beyond the professional domain. For example, it may make people aware of an absence of presence in all kinds of situations in their lives, or their more general inhibiting beliefs, for example “I am not important enough” or “They will not like me.” In other words, no neat and watertight boundary can be drawn between professional core issues and personal biographical material. This need not mean that all kinds of personal issues should become the focus of the professional learning process. In our view, the focus of professional development processes should be professional functioning, but in order to reflect in full depth about this professional functioning, more personal patterns as well as personal strengths need to be addressed.
Deep Professional Change Can Take Place Without Dealing with Biographical Issues Core Reflection is based on a fairly radical view of how one can deal with deeply engrained inhibiting patterns in a person. Let us take Paulien’s core belief about herself as an example: “If I start to feel, I may faint.” This can be seen as a belief at the identity level of the onion model. It may be a “frozen belief,” perhaps developed earlier in life when there was insufficient internal and external support to “survive” amidst strong negative feelings. Traditionally, a variety of therapeutic approaches focused on working with these past experiences. Basic to the Core Reflection approach is, however, the notion that this is not necessary, and that you can learn to fully deal with such a core belief and rediscover your core potential if you “unfreeze” by: 1. Starting to fully feel the negative, limiting impact of the core belief on your functioning in the here-and-now, 2. Feeling your own presence in the here-and-now as a state prior to that belief (Almaas 1986), 3. Understanding the belief as a powerless mental construct, and 4. Developing the will to no longer let the belief guide you. This leads to a sense of joy, which is typical for the right side of the U-turn, in which practitioners start to discover the power of their own state of presence, in the midst of their
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professional functioning. It may create a sense of fulfillment as well as a feeling of relief, the latter through seeing inhibiting patterns and inhibiting mental constructs from the perspective of who one really is. In terms of the onion model, one could say that the person then reaches the innermost circle in Fig.€27.4, thus beyond each of the six onion levels, which in fact are all constructions of the mind.
Supervising Core Reflection Requires a Combination of a Directive and a Nondirective Approach Supervision is crucial to the Core Reflection process, at least initially. When it comes to issues such as ideals, core qualities or presence, it may take a long time before people start to become aware of such issues by themselves, let€alone that they are able to use them as an incentive for deliberately changing their everyday behavior and reflection. In most cases, some directed form of reflection and clearly focused support in going through the various phases of Core Reflection is necessary, especially in order to help people refrain from repeating ineffective patterns over and over again (e.g., in the case of Paulien her tendency to avoid feeling her feelings). It is important to emphasize, however, that the direction the supervisor gives is not so much oriented toward certain criteria for specific professional behavior the practitioner should demonstrate. A supervisor applying Core Reflection should in our view give clear directions with regard to the reflection process rather than regarding the actual professional behavior that is aimed at. What this actual behavior looks like can only be discovered by the supervisee, by becoming aware of his or her professional ideals. And we believe that a supervisor should be fairly nondirective when it comes to the formulation and enactment of such ideals by the supervisee. The only really important criterion in a process of Core Reflection is whether the supervisee starts functioning more from a state of presence. In short, Core Reflection implies that the core of the person reflecting takes the lead in what is to emerge, but in order for this to take place, a supervisor should take the lead in structuring the process through which this core and its potential can be opened up. We can also summarize this by stating that the essence of Core Reflection is to build the process on the supervisee’s own concerns, directing the supervisee toward his or her strengths. During such a process, well-known nondirective interventions such as respect, empathy, and acceptance are essential (Rogers 1969).
Conclusion Shifts in the Views of Reflection In this contribution, we have described shifts of perspective regarding the concept of reflection. Shifts that took place over many years, under the influence of our experiences with the ALACT model of reflection and new psychological insights. We believe that through our discussion, we have highlighted various important issues deserving the attention from everyone involved in promoting various approaches to reflection. Most fundamental in the discussion are the broadening of the focus of reflection based on the six levels of the onion model, the step towards reflection as a means of enhancing personal strengths and possibilities, and the shift from a view of reflection as the rational analysis of past experiences toward an emphasis on being fully present and aware in the here-and-now. We can summarize these shifts as follows (Table€27.1):
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Core reflection Reflection on possibilities and ideals Focus on the here-and-now and the future Focus on personal strengths Focus on presence as well as awareness of thinking, feeling, wanting and the environment Focus on all levels of the onion model and their alignment Final goal: being in the situation with full awareness of thinking, feeling and wanting, leading to a free flow of core qualities
Reflection and Transformational Learning Through these shifts, we believe that reflection becomes a key instrument in transformational learning, i.e., learning in which we experience “dramatic, fundamental change in the way we see ourselves and the world in which we live” (Mirriam, et€al. 2007; compare Cranton 2006, and Mezirow 2003). Through Core Reflection, changes can take place that go beyond gradual adjustments in professional behavior (first-order change), and can thus be seen as “second-order changes”, defined by Levy and Mary (1986, pp. 4–6) as transformative change. They state that “second-order change is a multidimensional, multilevel, qualitative, discontinuous, radical organizational change involving a paradigmatic shift” (p. 5). This is exactly what can be observed when all levels of the onion model are included in the change process and brought into alignment, as we have seen in the example of Paulien. We believe that if a person reaches the state of presence, we can even talk about a higher level of change, which we suggest calling third-order change. It is characterized by a breakdown of all fixed beliefs about reality and the ability to see the reality with fresh eyes, including completely new possibilities (Almaas 2008). This implies that we propose a view of professional development aimed at deep forms of learning, but not in the sense in which traditional therapeutic approaches conceptualize “going deep,” i.e., by putting an emphasis on traumatic childhood experiences. On the contrary, in Core Reflection “going deeper” refers to the joyful adventure of awakening to the richness of the present reality, discovering new possibilities, and focusing on the positive feelings connected with one’s inner potential, and one’s inner sources of inspiration. Such strong positive feelings and fresh insights are usually not triggered when the learning process only focuses on the outer levels of the onion model, i.e., when firstorder change is the goal. As an illustration, we cite a few evaluative remarks from North-American teachers, who attended a workshop in Core Reflection. Their words mirror what we have just discussed: • Personally, [I learned] a set of skills I feel will be empowering, professionally, a set of connections to people and ideals which I feel will deepen and lighten my experience of work. • I gained a sense of self-identity, freedom from limiting beliefs, empowerment to fulfill my life purpose. • You would not know how much profound impact you’ve done to me personally and professionally. • Since returning, I have told colleagues and students that in my many years as an educator, I think this has been the most powerful and transformative experience I have ever had.
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• The techniques of Core Reflection are really limitless in their application. • The biggest benefit for me has been learning new tools for refocusing problems and obstacles into strengths. • This has been the most profound, influential workshop I’ve ever had in my life. It presented me with, no, immersed me in an ideal vision for my work, my teaching and my way of being that. I now feel inspired and equipped to bring into being, one small but sure step at a time.
Connection Between the Personal and the Professional As Rodgers and Raider-Roth (2006, p. 271) explain, the key to presence is being present to oneself and the environment simultaneously. Here the interesting point is that contact with the outside world is enhanced through a deeper awareness of the self (Almaas 1986, 2008; Senge et€al. 2004). This is where in our view the important connection between the professional and the personal element in professional functioning takes place (cf. Intrator and Kunzman 2006a, b). Such a connection is important, since many authors emphasize that a strong divide between the personal and the professional may lead to an ineffective friction in a professional’s identity (Beijaard et€ al. 2004; Nias 1989). According to Palmer (2004), it is in this sense essential for professionals to “live divided no more.”
A Global Perspective While discussing the concepts of presence and connectedness, Senge and his colleagues even go one step further and relate them to a need for more connectedness between human beings and the outer world. They consider global problems such as the rapid diminishing of our natural resources and fast climate change, as crucial signs that humans have become too focused on manipulating the outside world, and have lost the necessary connection with their inner being. Humankind has come to see the inside as separated from the outside, a phenomenon Einstein called an optical delusion of our consciousness. In terms of the onion model: we have become used to focusing on the outer layers, on using the environment and on our acting in the world in such a manner that we can “gain” most out of it, but the connection between the layers is lost. As a result, Senge and his colleagues believe that the world may be heading towards its final destruction, which they call the “requiem scenario.” They state that what is needed is “profound change in people, organizations and society,” a change in which we develop “a new capacity for observing that no longer fragments the observer from what is observed” (p. 211). This is why Senge and his colleagues consider connectedness as the defining feature of a new world view: (…) connectedness as an organizing principle of the universe, connectedness between the “outer world” of manifest phenomena and the ‘inner world’ of lived experience, and, ultimately, connectedness among people and between humans and the larger world. (p. 188)
Looking back from this perspective at the developments in our thinking about reflection described in this chapter, it may strike us that we are faced with challenges beyond those of individual professional behavior and learning. The described shifts in perspective regarding the essence of reflection may not only be fundamental to a new view of what it means to behave and learn professionally, but may ultimately be pivotal to the needs of the world at large.
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New York: Harmony Books. Mirriam, S. B., Caffarella, R. S., & Baumgartner, L. S. (2007). Learning in adulthood: A comprehensive guide. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Nias, J. (1989). Primary teachers talking: A study of teaching as work. Londen/New York: Routledge. Ofman, D. (2000). Core qualities: A gateway to human resources. Schiedam: Scriptum. Osberg, D., & Biesta, G. J. J. (2007). Beyond presence: Epistemological and pedagogical implications of ‘strong’ emergence. Interchange, 38(1), 31–51. Palmer, P. J. (1998). The courage to teach. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Palmer, P. J. (2004). A hidden wholeness: The journey toward an undivided life. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Peterson, C. (2006). A primer in positive psychology. New York: Oxford University Press. Rodgers, C. R. (2002). Voices inside schools: Seeing student learning: Teacher change and the role of reflection. Harvard Educational Review, 72(2), 230–252. Rodgers, C. R., & Raider-Roth, M. B. (2006). Presence in teaching. Teachers and Teaching: Theory and Practice, 12(3), 265–287. Rogers, C. R. (1969). Freedom to learn. Columbus, Ohio: Merrill. Scharmer, C. O. (2007). Theory U: Leading from the future as it emerges. Cambridge, Mass: Society for Organizational learning. Schön, D. A. (1987). Educating the reflective practitioner. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Seligman, M. E. P. (2002). Positive psychology, positive prevention, and positive therapy. In: C. R. Snyder & S. J. Lopez (Eds.). Handbook of positive psychology (pp. 3–9). Oxford: Oxford University Press Seligman, M. E. P., & Csikszentmihalyi, M. (2000). Positive psychology: An introduction. American Psychologist, 55(1), 5–14. Senge, P., Scharmer, C. O., Jaworski, J., & Flowers, B. S. (2004). Presence: Exploring profound change in people, organizations and society. Londen: Nicolas Brealey. Snyder, C. R., & Lopez, S. J. (2007). Positive psychology: The scientific and practical explorations of human strengths. Thousand Oaks: Sage. Sutton, R. E., & Wheatley, K. F. (2003). Teachers’ emotions and teaching: A review of the literature and directions for future research. Educational Psychology Review, 15(4), 327–358.
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Chapter 28
A Reflective Inquiry as Participatory and Appreciative Action and Reflection Tony Ghaye
Words and Actions I begin with two clarificatory statements. One about reflection and the other about inquiry, as both are “contested” terms. For this paper, I suggest reflection might usefully be thought about as a process. Part of this entails looking forward and therefore towards achieving our future goals. Another involves looking backwards to determine what we have succeeded in achieving and to get a sense of where we have come from. So, taken together, reflection can be said to involve both projection and review. These are pretty well known. But then, there is a third element which is particularly significant. It is reflecting and responding in-the-moment. It is what I will call improvisation. In many aspects of human service, work-like school teaching, management education, health care, social work and a range of other public services, improvisation is necessary. Arguably, it is at the heart of the creative process. Some are generally wary of improvising because they feel “being creative” necessitates being original. They think it is to do with cleverness. In this paper, I relate it simply to being able to re-frame the familiar and to use the power of the positive (latterly called the appreciative) question to lead individuals and work groups into a space where they can surrender control of the direction of their emerging narrative for a moment. In my experience, this is a hard thing for some adults to do. Without a narrative we are often afraid that we will not be able to make sense of events and may be feel that what we have been doing is inappropriate, not worthwhile or even nonsense. Also, in this paper, I take an “inquiry” to mean purposeful action. The purpose may be many and varied of course, but I confine it to the purpose of “bettering” or improving something. I link the ideas of complexity and duration with this view. Simply put, the more people involved, or affected by the inquiry, the more complex it is likely to be. The greater the performance improvement we seek, the more complex the action, the longer it may take. In general, being able to demonstrate positive achievement and then to move forward is likely to be determined by at least six inter-related influences. They are: 1. The nature of the feedback and pressure from customers, clients, patients, students and other “users” of the service/s we are managing and delivering. 2. How safely, efficiently and effectively staff learn new ways of working.
T. Ghaye() Reflective Learning - UK (RL-UK), Overton Business Centre, Maisemore, Gloucestershire, GL2 8HR, England e-mail:
[email protected] N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_28, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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3. How understandable, and therefore compelling, our case is for new or preferred action towards a “better” state. 4. How long it took the organisation to complete something similar in the past. This is about organisational memory. 5. The current resources available (human and physical) and also emotional, mental and social capital. 6. The present “starting position” in relation to the desired goal and organisational readiness.
The Deficit Trap Good reflective practitioners are good at observation. They observe with intense concentration in order to come to know what is going on in the actions in front of them and in which they are immersed. They observe and then notice, which is then the basis for reflection. So, what is often noticed? Is it what is going wrong or that which is less than desirable? And how does this affect any feedback process? Is it about pinpointing the “problem/s” and trying to suggest how these might be “fixed” in the hope that this feedback might enable those involved to “go in the right direction.” Some argue that the best feedback is precise and contains carefully selected detail. I would suggest that the best feedback is about being positive and also about being useful. By this, I mean using feedback (individually or collectively) to help those involved to re-frame the current situation in such a way that it conveys a sense of liberation. It is feedback that liberates and energises us to make a different or even greater effort to improve the current situation. It is also feedback that presents current limitations and constraints as exciting challenges. The key to this, I suggest, is receiving encouragement through the use of positive questions. With regard to reflective inquiries, this is my general thesis. When trying to improve work and working lives through reflective inquiries of one kind or another, thinking and conversations often get stuck with vocabularies of human deficit and in doing so fail to unlock the creative potential of those involved. Deficit-phrased questions lead to deficitbased conversations. These in turn lead to deficit-based actions. Participatory and appreciative action and reflection (PAAR) is a style of inquiry, which requires us to use our appreciative intelligence to focus on the best of what is currently experienced, seek out the root causes of this, then design and implement actions that amplify and sustain this success (Ghaye 2005, 2008; Ghaye et€al. 2008). I am not saying that we should turn a blind eye to “problems.” I am saying that PAAR is a systematic form of inquiry where we accentuate the positive and look at “problems” within a creative and appreciative frame and with a “critical spirit.” This means that achieving and moving forward does not have to be only about getting rid of what we do not want, namely problems. Conversations and actions do not have to be only about “fixing” things that are going less well, less than we had hoped for or expected. PAAR does not perpetuate the belief that weaknesses can, indeed, simply be fixed. What benefit or usefulness is there in feeding back to those involved, through whatever process, only a description of what was not working? A description of error? Will this simply be discouraging? I guess one reaction to this is that feedback has to be a matter of balance. PAAR requires a major shift in our mindset, away from reflective inquiries being only about problem finding, problem solving and getting rid of “unwanted” aspects of current practice. PAAR explicitly shifts our attention and energy towards conversations about success, about understanding why particular aspects of our work are indeed successful and how these joyful and celebratory aspects of practice can be further amplified and made more sustainable. First and foremost, PAAR is about identifying and playing to our strengths. My argument is that if we change the question we ask, we have a chance to change the conversation. Changing this, we open up opportunities for different kinds of action. I suggest this is a fundamental concern for those undertaking reflective inquiries.
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Many of the practices in the general field of reflection are about individuals examining their own work so that they are more able to change what they do in a particular context. This is very much in line with the early work of Schön (1983), who celebrated the ability and motivation of individuals to understand themselves better and improve themselves and their work. He said that we needed practical knowledge to achieve this. In Schön (1991), we read that what practitioners looked at in their working life was framed as “puzzling” or “strange.” This is still evident today. A customary starting point for reflective inquiries is that which we might refer to as a “problem.” In the work of Dewey (1933), we read that reflective practitioners learned by noticing and framing “problems of interest.” He said that if we experience surprise or discomfort in our everyday work, then a reflective process was likely to be triggered. Dewey suggested that this process consisted of several steps. In his description of these steps, we find such words as perplexity, confusion and doubt. What is interesting here is that there is no suggestion that what might trigger a reflective inquiry is a desire to seek out and to understand why something was (or went) well. The motivational locus resides within the general realm of deficits, not successes. Loughran (2006) looked again at Dewey’s notion of a “problem.” He suggested that although reflecting on problems is important, it should not be done at the expense of other aspects of our working lives. Loughran went on to state that if we use the word “problem” we can easily get caught up with its negative connotations because it is so easily linked in our minds with words such as “mistakes” and “errors of judgement.” Habermas (1974)), like Dewey and Schön, also had plenty to say about reflective inquiries. The point I wish to raise here is that Habermas did not see knowledge generated by individuals in itself as being sufficient for improving social action. He believed it was necessary, among other things, to address the discursive processes which gave rise to certain discourses, which were more or less dominant and “heard.” The notion of reflective inquiries being understood as only being helpful in improving the knowledge “in our heads” is not, I feel, an adequate justification for undertaking them. Kemmis (2005) suggested that we need to look at a number of extra-individual influences on the improvement of practitioners and practices. He argued that inquiries that aimed to change practice were not a matter for practitioners alone, but a task of changing such things as the discourses in which inquiries were constructed and the social relationships that constitute practice. Additionally I suggest, focusing on deficits is a powerful aspect of oppression. In working life, we may be able to find the strength and strategies to combat those things we think oppress us. But, if the real obstacle to improving what we do, in particular places, lies buried within us; we can fight all we want, but it is likely to be of no avail. We are putting our physical, mental, emotional and even spiritual effort into the wrong things. A “problem” in our work or working life is not simply a problem “out there.” It can also be something we carry internally. The deficit trap is not just a question of what we do (or do not do). It is also a question of how we feel and think. A question of mindset. So, instead of simply believing that the root causes of deficit-based actions is something about organisational cultures, it is possible that the causes might be inherently part of us. One way of beginning to address this is to try to “externalise” those things we internalise to express them to others, to write about them and to inquire into them. Kaufka (2009) offers some useful starting questions. For example, “What do I feel?”, “Where do these feelings come from?”, “Why do I think I experience them?”, “How are they useful to me?”, “What do I see as the consequences for their continuation?” and “What are other times I have felt similarly?”
The Story of the Three Fears Targets, traditions, hierarchies and many more things that construct most working environments can serve to liberate or constrain us. The way power circulates can stop creativity in its tracks and block improvisation. “So we keep our crazy ideas to ourselves and they remain
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half-baked, never getting out into the group where they might finish cooking…. The absolute dominance of the idea of efficiency means that if conversations are not planned, structured or ‘facilitated’ in some way then there is a danger of things degenerating into the much feared ‘talking shop’, where no outcomes can be recorded and time has been wasted in idle conversation” (Ibbotson 2008, p. 69). Work conversations that are adversarial or competitive tend to reduce the possibility of exploring options and letting ideas bubble up, rather than increase them. In my experience, a reflective inquiry with a commitment to “better” or improve something has, sooner or later, to confront three fears. They are the: • Fear of failure • Fear of being wrong • Fear of losing face The first fear is situated within a general target driven and performative context. The second fear is situated within a regulatory and code of conduct frame. The third is influenced by socio–cultural structures and traditions in particular geo–political spaces. Additionally, the problem of focussing on problems is that the more we do this, the more problems seem to grow in magnitude and significance to us. The longer we do this, the more drained and frustrated these conversations can become. “What if” conversations become diminished? As problems grow in size, so our optimism wanes. So, what stops us having more discussions that explore positive experiences that focus on discovering, in the past, the root causes of our success and then asking ourselves the questions: 1. “How can we (re-)create conditions where we can repeat this (or appropriate features) success now?” 2. “If we have experienced this once before (so, we know it is achievable), what is stopping us doing it again?” So, how do we address these fears constructively?
Framing a Positive Reflective Inquiry My suggestion is that reflective inquiries might usefully begin with a positive (not a deficit-based) question. These questions guide agendas and can focus individual and collective attention in the direction of those aspects of organisational existence–latent or explicit, historic or contemporary – that are most life-giving and life-sustaining for staff. They are kinds of question that enable the creation of powerful vocabularies of possibility, both in the day-to-day conversations of staff and in the social and organisational theory that is produced about practice improvement and even workplace transformation. Before I give examples of positive (later I call these appreciative) questions and re-affirm their centrality to my suggestion of a useful reflective inquiry, I want to raise a few general contextual issues illuminated by Gergen (1994). He argued that we should be very wary of deficit-based conversations and more generally critical forms of reflective practice. Gergen raises five consequences of conversations of this kind. I have interpreted them thus: • Containment of conversation: Deficit-based conversations, as I have presented them, often operate to establish a dualistic conversational structure in which “this is opposed to that.” For example, let us assume the argument that flatter forms of organisational structure would be better than that which currently exists. An organisational structure where decisions are made by those close to the action, whatever and wherever this may be. Deficit-based conversations tend to lock us into a “flatter form/not a flatter form.”
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More specifically, say, the argument was about keeping a child inside at breaktime as a punishment for bad behaviour. Here we would expect to be locked into a “send out/do not send out” linguistic structure. This is, by its very nature conservative because it confines conversation within this dualism. Words, sentences, images and ideas that lie outside of the dualism tend to be ignored. Silencing of other voices: Once this kind of conversational dualism is established, it brings with it another problem: It tends to silence other, alternative points of view. For example, healthcare conversations about male medical dominance simultaneously serve to reify a distinction between men and women. When conversations about different healthcare disciplines are couched in the language of turf, territory and conflict, a conversation around difference is sustained. Because the conversation tends to proceed within the terms of the dualism, other realities, values, voices and concerns are removed from earshot. Search for deficiencies: Once locked into the two points above, deficit-based conversations are usually sustained by an array of “what we want less of” and “catch you out” type questions: a search for certainty and “truth” and questions that try to expose others and debunk the accounts of those speaking in another way. As a result, conversations with “others” (other colleagues/staff) tend to slide into an intentional and rigorous search for others’ most glaring deficits, deficiencies and weaknesses. Human wholeness and complexity get lost. The notion of multiple and constructed realities gets forgotten. Fragmentation of relationships: It is no surprise that the posture of those who may, for example, be attending a team meeting and who constantly live through deficitbased conversations is anything other than defensive and disappointed. The energy that is put into reacting to incidents and errors, trying to minimise risk of not meeting targets and expectations and apportioning responsibility and blame, serves only to fragment teams and destroy cohesion. It demoralises and separates. It drives wedges between people rather than bonding them together. It is not a force for unity. Negative workplace cultures: Everything I have said has an impact on workplace cultures. When we have staff who tend to talk more about problems than possibilities and failures instead of successes, then a culture of negativity can be created. Staff tend to close ranks around preferred ways of talking and interacting. This undermines their relationships, their value positions and their solidarity. It also limits their creativity.
A positive question is one that invites those involved in a reflective inquiry to think about and then to give voice to those aspects of their lived experience (van Manen 1997) which gives them a sense of joy, fulfilment and satisfaction in their work and workplace. By infusing our reflective inquiries with positive questions, we give ourselves a chance to create powerful vocabularies of possibility, in particular, thinking about the possibility of positively re-experiencing past successes and doing more of what satisfies and achieves agreed goals. A reflective inquiry that embraces the positive question includes the two fundamental conceptions of reflection I mentioned earlier. They are the acts of looking back and looking forward. Looking back and rediscovering joys, excellence and innovation, and then looking forward and asking the positive question “What single thing, were it to happen again and more frequently, would make a significant and positive difference to my/our work here?” I recently asked a group of staff this question. Here are some of their responses. Do you recognise any? • I’d like my skills to be recognised again and would want to get back those feelings of being supported, so that I can function to my maximum capacity. • What was wonderful was the way we shared our workload with colleagues, even if they were busier than we were. I want this sharing to happen more frequently. • I loved it when everyone had a positive attitude of work commitment and worked to the same goal.
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• I remember when I was treated like a human being. As a human being, I was appreciated and respected. What I want more frequently is to feel appreciated, which will help me perform to my best ability. • I’ve worked here for 18€years and I can recall when people were recognised for what they did. It was a time when people had respect for one another, speaking or supporting one another when things went wrong. Somehow we need to have more of this. • More acknowledgement and thanks for your hard work and continued commitment. It happens, but we could do with more of this. It’s all about feeling good. • I have experienced what it’s like to be part of a team that had the ability to listen and I had the “right” to be listened to. We need more democratic listening to happen more frequently. • More appreciation for one another, more frequently. I used to work in a positive environment. What made it like that was that we appreciated each other. So, can we get more of this going again? • We are not really any bigger now, and back then we communicated effectively. We did this because we spoke directly to each other. We did it then, so surely we can communicate effectively with everybody now, can’t we? • We met regularly and it worked wonders for team working and morale. Also, we all knew what was going on. I would like, within this department, to have more frequent staff meetings, where individual colleagues can be encouraged to project positive changes to improve morale and team building. • Its simple. I do feel appreciated, by some. But, we need to be appreciated, more frequently by our managers (management). • If everybody that I met, each day, smiled and acknowledged me and I them, it would make a significant difference to work here. (Ghaye 2008, p. 170) Cooperrider (2001) suggests using positive questions makes the following possible: • They release new positive vocabularies: Positive questions re-focus individual and work group’s attention away from problems and towards possibilities. By asking positive questions, we invite staff to use words, phrases, sentences and ideas that typically remain uncelebrated or underused in much of what constitutes normal organisational conversation. • They affirm variety of experiences and encourage full voice: If we adopt a social constructionist view, then it follows that language provides the means through which we communicate the sense we make of our worlds. The language we have available to us, to an extent, determines our possibilities for action. Positive vocabularies give us a chance of acting in the world, positively. • They help us value others: Asking positive questions enables us to appreciate what others value and cherish in their work and so, understandably, what they want more, not less, of. • They foster relational connections: Asking a positive question invites staff to reflect upon their practice and to think of something significant to them. What can emerge from this are expressions of our core values and commitments. They are essential things that connect us with others. • They help build a sense of community: “By inviting participants to inquire deeply into the best and most valued aspects of one another’s life and work, it immediately creates a context of empathy, care and mutual affirmation” (Cooperrider 2001, p. 31). • They can generate social innovation: Appreciative approaches to work and working life (Cooperrider and Srivastva 1987), of which the positive question is a central feature, “are based on the constructionist notion that organisations grow and evolve in the direction of their most positive guiding images of the future. When we inquire into our weaknesses and deficiencies, we gain an expert knowledge of what is “wrong” with our organisations, and we may even become proficient problem-solvers, but we do not strengthen our collective capacity to imagine and to build a better future” (Cooperrider 2001, p. 34).
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A Reflective Inquiry as Ensemble Working So let us try to bring some of these challenges into some sort of wholeness. I deliberately use the notion of ensemble working because, for me, it draws upon four important aspects of a reflective inquiry, of the kind I am proposing. They are improvisation, welcoming diversity, rehearsal and co-creation. These are embedded within Fig.€28.2. About diversity, I briefly say this here. Without it, we often get creativity within existing boundaries and variations on what is already known and usual. “If you have the potential both for diversity to be expressed and for challenge, you are more likely to get innovation, for the unexpected to emerge as well” (Ibbotson 2008, p. 73). More about this later in this chapter. Figure€28.2. shows how I wish to illustrate a reflective inquiry as a form of participatory and appreciative action and reflection (PAAR). This is essentially an improvementoriented inquiry process. Re-worded, you might call it a reflective learning (r-learning) inquiry framework. This framework has been derived from two principal sources. First, from a meta-analysis of a large and compelling volume of evidence accumulated in the international journal Reflective Practice, for which a total of 627 papers have been submitted since its launch in 2000 (Ghaye and Lillyman 2008). Second, from my personal observations and work in public, private and third sector organisations, which span 30€years, in many different countries and contexts. I am suggesting that a PAAR-type reflective inquiry has four defining characteristics (see Fig.€28.1). Two of them are that it is participatory and appreciative. This participatory characteristic (Jacobs 2006) requires all involved to be reflective, to be explicit about the perspective from which knowledge is created and to see democratic peer relationships as an ethical and political form of inquiry that serves the practical ethos of improvement-oriented methodologies. The ethical and empowering dimensions of PAAR affirms peoples’ right and ability to have a say in decisions that affect their livelihoods and which claim to generate knowledge about them (Magnusson and Hanson 2003). PAAR therefore positively embraces the connection between the way power is used and circulates among groups, on the one hand, and the way knowledge is generated and used, on the other (Thatchenkery and Chowdhry 2007). The appreciative characteristic is critical because of the way some forms of action maintain a problem-oriented view of the world. In so doing, they diminish the capacity of the participants to produce innovative ways of moving forward, demonstrating the use of their imagination, increasing participant commitment and generating the necessary strengths-based dialogues required for sustainable improvement.
PARTICIPATORY
EMPOWERING
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APPRECIATIVE
Fig.€28.1╅ The four central characteristics of PAAR
ETHICAL
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I am also suggesting that PAAR-type inquiries have the potential to be empowering and that it is necessary to conduct the inquiry ethically (Appelbaum et€al. 1999; Duvall 1999; Ghaye 2001; Howard and Korver 2008; Kidder 2006; Melander-Wikman et€ al. 2006; Renblad 2003; Stainer and Stainer 2000; Wikström 2005). PAAR actively draws upon the notion of empowered participation (Fung 2006) and its associated process of deliberative democracy (Thomson and Gutmann 2004). Together, these demonstrate a commitment to positively engage with, and provide equal opportunities for, all those involved to participate directly in decisions that affect their own and others welfare. This participation is empowered because decisions generated by the processes of PAAR determine the actions of all those charged with the responsibility of building a better future from aspects of the positive present. The process of deliberative democracy is a crucial component because it affirms the need for all concerned to justify the decisions that are made. Arguably, this PAAR-type inquiry process provides a different and better way of identifying, understanding and sustaining success. It is different for two reasons: first, due to the reason giving requirement of deliberative democracy, second, due to the need to make reasons accessible and understood by everyone involved. It is also better because it moves us beyond simplistic views of “customer satisfaction” and the tokenism often associated with the term “customer involvement.” Empowered participation, through deliberative democracy, means that all involved have a genuine sense of ownership and exercise responsible agency in the generation and use of knowledge. Participatory and appreciative action and reflection (PAAR) also embraces the idea of reflective learners as skilful ethical decision-makers. Fundamentally, this requires us to actively consider whether particular participatory actions and reflections are ethical or not. PAAR aligns itself with consequence-based ethics, associated with Jeremy Bentham and John Stuart Mill. In other words, the actions which constitute reflective inquiries need to be judged on their consequences. Arguably, this is appropriate given the explicit improvement orientation of PAAR. Additionally, we would argue that those who use, or encourage others to inquire in this way, need to be accountable for their actions. It is easy to make praiseworthy, but not liveable, ethical statements to aspire to participatory and appreciative action and reflection that we cannot possibly meet. With PAARtype inquiries, the reflective ethical bar is being raised, but not put out of reach. In summary, PAAR seeks to establish and sustain ethical relational practices of the kind described by Einhorn (2006) and Meyer et€al. (2006). To do this, it draws from civic society, civic engagement and integrated service improvement research in order to sustain these practices (Cohen and Arato 1996; Ghaye 2007; Giddens 1994; Griffiths 2004; Habermas 1996; Leadbeater 2004; Marquand 2003).
The Ensemble-in-Practice Figure€28.2. shows that a PAAR-type reflective inquiry comprises four essential, mutually supportive processes. These might be regarded as committed and intentional actions. They are as follows: 1. Developing an appreciative gaze: This means actively and consciously starting the understanding and improvement process by looking at what is positive and supportive of human flourishing and well-being in current thinking and practice. It is an appreciation of our own and others’ gifts and talents. 2. Reframing lived experience: This is essentially about trying to look at “problems” (or challenges) creatively and with a critical spirit in order to seek out alternative and innovative approaches for future working. It involves being open to the unexpected connection.
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Process 3. BUILDING PRACTICAL WISDOM
Process 2. RE-FRAMING LIVED EXPERIENCE
Process 1. DEVELOPING AN APPRECIATIVE GAZE? Process 4. DEMONSTRATING ACHIEVEMENT AND MOVING FORWARD
Fig.€28.2╅ Processes in a PAAR-type reflective inquiry (Ghaye 2008)
3. Building practical wisdom: This is about improving working practices and workplaces through the authentic participant ownership of issues. It requires the suspension of status games that undermine the creativity of the group to build more practical wisdom. It also requires the skilful use of language and the way participants use their different kinds of authority in the company of others. The practical wisdom I have in mind is not simply the outcome of reproductive thinking, or refining what is already known. It seeks to generate new, insights and improved actions. In this sense, we might call it productive thinking. 4. Ethical action and moral courage to use what has been rehearsed and co-created to demonstrate achievement and move practices and policy positively forward: PAARtype inquiries are not only a particular way of feeling and thinking about action. They are also a particular way of exercising action.
Process 1: Developing an Appreciative Gaze The influence of the work of Foucault and Peshkin and Bordieu’s “habitus” are helpful here, and the perspective of critical realism. Critical realism and the work of Bhaskar (1986, 1989) “starts out from what is actually happening – not from what appears to be happening, or what our initially limited understanding leads us to believe is happening” (Svensson et€al. 2008, p. 8). It helps us understand how power, politics and resources set limits to action, but also provide opportunities for new and more creative ones (Hemlin et€ al. 2004; Lideway 2004). I would recommend that all those involved with reflective inquiries that were committed to improving something in a particular setting should, at least, think about starting with a consideration of “their gaze.” In doing so, it might be useful to think about the notions of expression, voice and re-authoring. Any kind of improvement process involves change. This is inherently emotional. Due to this, we need to find constructive ways to manage our emotions. We also need to focus on defining ourselves as active and engaged rather than passive, helpless and hopeless (De Salvo 1999). Some re-authoring of our own stories may also be required. By this I mean, in
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inquiries of this kind, we may have to re-author our own personal narratives from our own, rather than others’ perspectives, to reclaim our authorial position, and to liberate our collective stories that have been censored into oblivion by the tyranny of a single, dominant story. (Parry and Doan 1994).
Process 2: Reframing Lived Experience This is a very important part of PAAR-type inquiries and is often difficult. PAAR aspires to build a better history from aspects of the positive present. Sometimes, our vision is clouded in the stresses and busyness of working life. Thus, seeing the positives in the present necessitates new forms of creativity and mental discipline. Here, the work of Seligman (2002) on positive psychology and Giddens’ (1990) structuration theory are helpful ideas and practices. Structuration theory is concerned with structure and agency. Giddens argued that these two views are incompatible with each other. He reframed them, describing how they were dependent upon each other. Structures evolve and are (re)produced over time and space. Agents in their actions constantly (re)produce the social structures, which both constrain and enable them. One informs and transforms the other. Re-framing requires the creation of a “positive psychological space”, so that all involved can focus their energy on welcoming in, not on closing out. Welcoming in means that we have to let go of two bad habits that distort the re-framing process. Kahane (2004) calls these habits reloading and downloading. Reloading is when we are not truly and openly attending to what’s happening, not really listening, empathizing or wanting to understand. What we are actually doing, when reloading, is rewinding some already existing mental tapes and rehearsing them in our mind. These are tapes that contain those things that we already know and ways we always behave. Downloading is when we re-produce (communicate) without alteration. There is no creativity associated with this. Downloading is no good for creating new insight and breakthroughs. When we download, we are deaf to others’ experience and insensitive to other possibilities. We hear only that which confirms our own experiences. By welcoming in, we mean adopting a frame of mind that enables all involved in the reflective inquiry process to develop their positive core of values and actions. Unlike downloading (saying what we always say, doing what we always do, thinking in the same old ways), welcoming in is about listening to and learning from others who also have a stake in the improvement process. It is learning from those who have different, even opposing, perspectives to our own. Welcoming in is wanting to develop new insight and experiencing the thrill of this. Fundamentally, it is learning that accrues from discovering what is new beyond our comfort zone. In essence, this process of PAAR-type reflective inquiries, is not forcing something to happen, but releasing something: releasing the human spirit to appreciate what is good, best and right in our work and workplaces; releasing the mind to see things in new and different ways; releasing our sources of energy to build a positive core of values and (even better) actions and releasing us from those things that serve to bind, silence and disempower us so that we can move forward with courage and greater wisdom.
Process 3: Building Practical Wisdom Getting people to break old patterns of communication and to see each other holistically and as complex human beings is not easy. “To do so you have to help people find new ways of seeing each other and the group…. Engaging the hearts and minds unleashes energy,
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facilitates effective communication and creates interdependent commitment to the change process” (McKee et€al. 2008, p. 195). One of the challenges of this part of the PAAR-type reflective inquiry process is to move from personal visions to a collective picture of a better future. A place to begin, I suggest, is to discover what is shared. I would encourage you to avoid this going unnoticed, no matter what appears to be getting in the way, at least initially. In implementing PAAR-type reflective inquiries, it is useful to have a working knowledge of Wenger’s (1998) idea of communities of practice, the perspective of pragmatism and Gramsci’s notion of changing the way people interact to build practical wisdom. In this paper, I adopt the stance that we do not need collected wisdom, but rather collective wisdom. This is a coherent integration of our diversity that is greater than any or all of us could generate separately, just as an orchestra is greater than the sum of its instruments. Arguably, PAAR-type inquiries offer us a way to generate a new kind of collectivity that does not repress individuality, diversity and creativity but that, instead, allows us to arrive at a creative consensus without compromise or coercion. This kind of inquiry process will, inevitably, depend upon the nature and degree of trust within the participant group. This has moral and ethical dimensions. Without trust, conversations of positive regard and creativity are non-starters. Reina and Reina (2006) help us with two things: to appreciate the importance of trust and betrayal in the workplace and ways to build trusting relationships. At the heart of their book is the notion of transactional trust. This is a process of mutual exchange, reciprocity and something created incrementally over time. In other words, we have to give trust in order to increase the likelihood that we will receive it. They set out three types of transactional trust: • Contractual trust: This is essentially a trust of character, or, put another way, people actually doing what they say they will do, doing what they promise. It is about keeping agreements, honouring intentions and behaving consistently. PM • Communication trust: This is essentially a trust of disclosure. It is about people’s willingness to share information, tell the truth, admit mistakes, celebrate achievements and successes, maintain confidentiality and give and receive constructive feedback. Trust influences the quality of our conversations and vice versa. • Competence trust: This is essentially a trust of capability. How far do you trust the people with whom you work? Do you trust them to do a good job? How far do you trust your colleagues to give you an honest opinion about the quality of your work?
Process 4: Demonstrating Achievement and Moving Practices and Policy Positively Forward To achieve this, PAAR-type inquiries do not ignore conceptions of the critical, as in critical theory, in order to understand how particular practices of control in contemporary workplaces and issues related to the familiar power–knowledge–subjectivity triad give rise, for example, to domination, suffering, dissatisfaction and alienation. This particular PAAR process is not about perfecting ourselves. It is about appreciating the consequences of positive collective wisdom and action. This process is influenced by radical humanism and the work of Freire (1970). Achieving and moving forward will not be kindled by those involved spending all their precious time and resources searching for, or talking about, what is wrong, disappointing or unsatisfactory in their working life. I am suggesting that future action needs to be inspired by those things that participants feel are worth valuing, worth celebrating and sustaining. This might, in some cases, require some imagination. Perhaps, the toughest part of this fourth process of PAAR-type reflective inquiries is
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simply letting go of negative stories of practice and alternatively working through the power of the appreciative question to build a better future from aspects of the positive present. You would have noticed that I am now using the term an “appreciative question” rather than a positive one. The two are not in conflict. They are complementary. I use this term to explicitly acknowledge the way PAAR-type inquiries draw upon the notion of our appreciative intelligence. Orem et€al. (2007) also talked about the power of asking appreciative questions. This is a key part of PAAR-type inquiries and, I suggest, something to be pursued throughout the whole inquiry process, not just at the start. Appreciative questions are not just any questions, but questions that are carefully phrased in order to grab our attention, because our motivation to explore them supersedes whatever is going on at work right now. Here are some examples of the kinds of questions, with a strong appreciative (and reflective) tone, that I have in mind. How do you react to them? Additionally, I wonder what kind of reflective inquiry might emerge from addressing them? 1. What is giving you most joy and satisfaction in your work right now? 2. What were you doing recently, in managing your time, that enabled you to use your strengths? 3. What actions were you taking when you were successful at prioritizing those things that you are really good at doing? 4. What was happening when you found yourself thinking, that really worked well? 5. What did someone say or do to make you feel that your professional experience was greatly appreciated? 6. What strengths do you feel you have to “fight fires” at work? (fire fighting is about constantly fixing problems and dealing with what is urgent rather than what might be important). 7. What did you do that prompted a colleague to say “thank you, it’s nice to be respected”? 8. What were you doing that prompted a colleague to say “It’s great working here, it’s nice to be valued”? 9. What did you say to a colleague that enabled them to say “thanks for understanding my situation”? (Ghaye et€al. 2008)
Acknowledge the Sleeping Lions PAAR-type reflective inquiries are not just a way of acting. They are also a way of being. They require those who conduct them to exercise a balance between humility and power that appreciative action requires, to build a better places and spaces (Bergmark et€al. 2007). They also require a moral compass and an amount of ethical courage to welcome creativity and encourage positive deviance. I also feel these kinds of reflective inquiry require the cultivation of an artistic mindset, where one can manage the tensions between creativity and criticality, serendipity and intention and power and ethics. Although I have privileged the notion of PAAR-type reflective inquiries as being action-oriented, I wish to acknowledge that the actions we do not take have consequences also. What happens in our worlds is also shaped by the things we do not do and do not intend. Our non-actions have consequences also! “When lions are sleeping they are affecting the evolution of gazelles exactly as much as they do when they are awake and chasing them. …It is influenced by their whole ‘presence’ in the ecosystem, not by any one motive they may have or by any one action or group of actions they make take” (Ibbotson 2008, p. 136.)
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I would suggest that being creative and critical are not oppositional. They are not naturally antagonistic towards each other. My position is that creative and critical thinking are different, but they can (and indeed should) co-exist and help each other in the inquiry process. One way of looking at things is to see creative thinking as the ability to generate new ideas and to see things with fresh eyes. Critical thinking is the ability to judge the worthiness of these ideas and fresh ways of seeing. It is very difficult to generate and judge at the same time. If we are overly critical, we can judge our ideas out of existence! The longer we can defer judgement, the more ideas we may come up with. So, creative thinking is generative, non-judgemental and expansive. Arguably then, critical thinking is the yang to creative thinking’s yin. An important role for critical thinking (or critical reflection as some have come to call it) is to be analytical. By this, I mean it serves the important function of probing, questioning and putting ideas under pressure. Second, it has a role in helping us to come to decisions and to make judgements. In other words, it helps us determine which ideas are worth pursuing. Finally, critical thinking helps us be selective. It helps us narrow down long lists of ideas, possibilities and options and it helps us make choices. I suggest that PAAR-type inquiries open up the possibility for both creative and critical thinking to flourish. Imagine a kayak paddle. One side stands for creative thinking, the other for critical thinking. If you always used the creative paddle, you’d go around in circles. If you always used the critical paddle, you’d go around in circles the other way. The key is to alternate between the two … that way you develop enormous forward momentum. (Hurson 2008, pp. 46–47)
Therefore, it follows that PAAR-type inquiries are not insensitive to the perspective of critical theory and the way history, identity construction, power, politics and different discourses, for example, affect the way we feel, think and can act in certain organizational contexts. I hope I have set out reasonably clearly that PAAR-type inquiries involve praxis, defined generally as action followed by reflection. Within PAAR, praxis includes thinking and action that are not only about critical dialogue and contestation but are also creative. To achieve the ambition of PAAR, praxis has to involve creative thinking, creative discourses and the making and taking of creative action. By implication, then, PAAR not only has an interest in the active role that people play in their own subordination, self-creation and self-fashioning, but in their emancipation and collective abilities to build a better future. It is therefore concerned with contemporary conditions and possibilities for developing a kind of communicative freedom that opens up fresh possibilities for working in the contested terrains, which combat oppressive and limiting systems of thought. It is these that inhibit our capacity to imagine other possible ways of organizing. Second, PAAR offers some hope about how to move practices and policies forward, through the articulation of an alternative micropolitics of the workplace (Starkey and Hatchuel 2002; Townley 1994). Significant challenges for those conducting PAAR-type inquiries are to encourage openness and, where necessary, reconfigure power relations to enable them to be played out with the minimum of domination. Third, PAAR inquiries can be put to use as part of a project for achieving an ethico–political objective. For example, at the heart of its reframing process are the acts of defamiliarization and the contestation of the prevailing “ways of seeing” and organizing so that other individuals and groups might more freely and creatively represent what they truly feel and think. This may involve what Foucault called a politics of discomfort (Foucault 1997). To think in this way is to be prepared to submit one’s convictions to close scrutiny and ongoing questioning, to be alert to their practical ramifications, dangers and limitations and to be prepared to re-think accordingly. Using PAAR means that personal and collective values never settle into dogma. Using a critical spirit is not about dogmatic, authoritarian and judgmental critique, but much more about an appreciative attitude of mind, constructively aligned with a positive intent.
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T. Ghaye Table€28.1â•… Some standards of judgement for a PAAR-type inquiry Some standards of judgement – How far is this a good example of a PAAR inquiry in action? Examples of appreciative questions 1. Inclusivity How far have all interested participants, collectively, developed their appreciative “gaze”? 2. Emotional engagement How far is there evidence of participants being alive to PAAR as emotional work? 3. Understandability How far are participants demonstrating a commitment to appreciative communicative action? 4. Mutualism How far is there evidence of the way the critical is framed within the creative? 5. Transformation In the re-framing of emotions, understandings and practices, how far do “new angles of vision” emerge? 6. Communicative freedom When building practical wisdom, how far is the process ethically and socially justifiable and sustainable? 7. Moral courage When moving forward, how far is there evidence of committed action to build a “better” future from significant aspects of the positive present?
Acting with – Acting out So, how might we know a “good” example of a PAAR-type reflective inquiry? Arguably, any ontological and epistemological stance on improving working practices and workplaces is potentially contentious. Therefore, it follows that there are no incontestable standards of ontological and epistemological judgement ,which can safely and ethically be employed. I suggest that a posture of eclectic pluralism is appropriate. So, an important question becomes “What’s a good example of a PAAR-type inquiry in action?” This is complex and challenging. Arguably, one sensible starting point is to think of the way PAAR opens up communicative space. Placing this at the heart of the “standards” or criteriology debate (Bochner 2000; Schwandt 1996) is to emphasize the inclusive, collective, democratic and transformatory potential of PAAR, which transcends the self-interests of individuals. Habermas (1984, 1987) described communicative action as action oriented towards inter-subjective agreement, mutual understanding and unforced agreement about what to do, when, with whom and why. He suggested a number of “validity” claims that provide the beginnings of a platform for judging the “value” of an example of PAAR. I suggest that the following seven “standards” begin to respond to the question about the “value” of PAAR. They are suggested in Table€28.1.
Mindfulness, Hope and Compassion Reflective inquiries that have the capacity to mobilise energy towards improving the quality of people’s lives and livelihoods are humanly significant, important to understand and crucial to do well. The practices of mindfulness, feelings of hopefulness and an ability to be compassionate, I suggest, are pre-requisites. In PAAR-type inquiries, we need to feel and think as we go, improvise where necessary and face different realities with courage and creativity. In Table€28.2, I attempt to identify some appreciative questions that, I hope, connect with you emotionally and cognitively and form the basis of a life-affirming reflective inquiry. I hope you also find them challenging and helpful, as you strive to develop and sustain even better relationships where you work, and in so doing, enable you to contribute to building better futures.
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Table€28.2╅ Some appreciative questions
Main focus The individual
The work team/ group/squad
Developing an appreciative gaze What do you feel you do really well and why?
Re-framing lived experience What are some of your possibilities for improvement?
What are your team’s talents and achievements? How can you play to your strengths?
How can you ask positive questions to develop more strengths-based conversations?
The organisation What are your organisation’s major success stories? How can you amplify them?
What options and alternatives do you have to increase performance and/ or productivity?
Building practical wisdom What are your core values? Why do you hold these? What are your team’s values? Why do you hold these?
What are your organisation’s values? What does your organisation stand for?
Demonstrating achievement and moving forward How far are you able to put your values into action? How can you create more opportunities to do what you do best, every day? How far is performance aligned with mission?
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28â•… A Reflective Inquiry as Participatory and Appreciative Action and Reflection Stainer, A., & Stainer, L. (2000). Empowerment and strategic change – an ethical perspective. Strategic Change, 9, 287–296. Starkey, K., & Hatchuel, A. (2002). The long detour: Foucault’s history of desire and pleasure. Organization, 9(4), 641–656. Svensson, L., Ellstrom, P., & Brulin, G. (2008). Introduction – On interactive research. International Journal of Action Research, 3(3), 1–17. Thatchenkery, T., & Chowdhry, D. (2007). Appreciative inquiry and knowledge management: A social constructionist perspective. Cheltenham, UK: Edward Elgar Pub. Thomson, A., & Gutmann, D. (2004). Why Deliberative Democracy? Available online at http://press. princeton.edu/chapters/s7869.pdf Townley, B. (1994). Reframing human resource management: Power, ethics and the subject of work. London: Sage Publications Ltd van Manen, M. (1997). Researching lived experience: Human science for an action sensitive pedagogy. New York: SUNY Press. Wenger, E. (1998). Communities of practice: Learning, meaning and identify. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wikström, E. (2005). Inflytandets paradoxer, Möjligheter och hinder för självbestämmande och inflytande i hemtjänsten, Licentiate Thesis in Sociology. Växjö: Reprocentralen, Department of Social Science, University of Växjö
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Chapter 29
Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: What Future? Nona Lyons
Introduction While there is much contested discussion of reflective practice across professions, this Handbook argues that simultaneously there has been a clear resurgence of interest in reflection and reflective inquiry in the professions, considered by some as a necessity for the viability of the professional domain. The new interest in reflection in several professions centers on an increasingly insistent unease about the ethical dimensions of professional life, how professional life is conducted and experienced and how it should or ought to be, considering what is owed to one’s clients as well as to one’s profession. No doubt the seismic disasters of the world’s financial debacle have drawn attention and called into question both the ethical and the knowledge bases of professions. The Carnegie Foundation’s 10 year Study of the Professions similarly revealed this ethical dimension of professional life and underscored the need for systematic re-consideration of ethics in professional education (Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching 2009, p. 1). In addition, the continuing criticism of reflection and reflective inquiry highlight the diversity of definitions of reflection, and a resulting lack of a commonly agreed upon research agenda to pursue the study of reflective practice (Rodgers 2002; Loughran 2006). Other issues are at stake as well, especially about the assessment of reflection (Boud and Falchikov 2007). When some researchers and scholars were invited to comment on the future of reflection practice for this Handbook, several ideas emerged of immediate concern. For example, teacher educator and researcher, Tom Russell of Queens University, Canada, asserts that reflection and reflective inquiry are not being taught today to teacher education students and need to be. Russell’s view of the future of reflective practice is “dim, largely because teacher educators have not taken reflective practice into their own personal teaching practices. The idea of reflective practice by teacher educators themselves has not spread throughout teacher education” (Lyons 2009, pp. 1–2). Drawn to Donald Schon’s The Reflective Practitioner (1983) because he was increasingly interested in how people learn and learn to learn from experience, Russell was attracted to Schon’s theoretical idea of reflection-in-action. As he says, he was fortunate enough to work with Schon and developed several research projects for investigations of his own on reflection in action.
N. Lyons Department of Education, University College Cork, Cork, Ireland e-mail:
[email protected] N. Lyons (ed.), Handbook of Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: Mapping a Way of Knowing for Professional Reflective Inquiry, DOI 10.1007/978-0-387-85744-2_29, © Springer Scienceâ•›+â•›Business Media, LLC 2010
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The study of reflection today ought to include study of the theoretical roots and tenets of reflection as well experience through inquiry, a means to deepen knowledge and understanding. It would seem that reflection might be believed to be easily, nearly naturally, learned. But what is equally clear is that evidence is mounting that it is not easy to teach or learn reflection or reflective inquiry (Kuhn 2005; Lyons 2007–9; Russell 2005). In addition, there is a need to identify procedures for teaching reflection. What is interesting is how long it has taken this view to be acknowledged. Today, however, there is a clear imperative to teach reflection explicitly. In what follows we identify several issues of concern for the future of reflective practice taken both from commentators and from the survey conducted with some of the authors of this Handbook’s chapters.
Teaching Reflection and Reflective Inquiry Explicitly as an Aim of Professional Education Commentator Tom Russell asks, Can reflective practice be taught? He argues that, “Year after year those whom I teach report that many of their teachers urge them to engage in reflective practice but no one either helps them develop specific skills or provides a personal model of reflective practice” (Russell 2005, p. 200). “My particular concerns are that teacher educators themselves do not engage in reflective practice on a significant scale and thus are broadly unable to teach reflective practice to future teachers from a secure base of personal experience of what reflective practice means….Self-study of our personal teacher education practices is one very promising place for us to begin to foster the development of reflective practice” (Lyons 2009, pp. 2, 3). Others have also made similar observations. We have often asked our students to reflect on field experiences without ever discussing the qualities of good reflection, often with disappointing results. Students do not automatically know what we mean by reflection; often they assume reflection is an introspective after-the-fact description of teaching. Reflection, meant to make teaching and learning understandable and open, has itself been an invisible process to many… (Ward and Mc Cotter 2004, p. 255, as quoted in Russell 2005).
One practical concern of teacher educators when considering the future is the question of time and the larger issue of purposes. As chapter author Carol Rodgers asserts: “These days, although it [reflective practice]is assumed in teacher education, there is little room for it in schools whose purposes are not educating for democracy but, instead, educating for passing tests” (Lyons 2008, p. 11). Other professionals have different experiences in approaching the teaching of reflection. Take, for example, the experience of occupational therapists. Occupational therapists and Handbook chapter authors, Barbara Schell, Ellen Cohn and Elizabeth Crepeau, identify what they consider the necessary aspects of learning reflective practice in their own profession: The very nature of occupational therapy requires that practitioners use multiple strands of professional reasoning to continuously engage in reflection-in and on-practice. Effective occupational therapy is an interpretive or meaning-centered process, custom designed to address the particular life situations of clients. Thus, it is difficult to standardize practice or use uniform techniques or rules. Practitioners must analyze particular contexts, improvise and modify the procedures to address how clients make sense of disease or disability and its meaning for their lives. To describe this complex and multi faceted process, we adopt Schell’s 2003 definition of professional reasoning, “the process used by practitioners to plan, direct, perform and reflect on client care.” We further define reflective inquiry from the perspective of Schön who described the ways professionals think and act as reflection-in-action and reflection-on-action (Schon 1983). Reflection-on-action is prompted by a number of circumstances, which include the need to anticipate the effect of a therapeutic plan or action, to determine the effectiveness of the therapy, and to examine
29â•… Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: What Future? retrospectively how and why the therapy process unfolded as it did. The latter can range from impromptu reminiscing to structured case analysis to more formalized research processes. Like Schön, we believe that reflective inquiry also involves reinterpretation or reframing of the problem “in the moment.” This form of reflective inquiry, reflection-in-action, involves reinterpreting or reframing of the nature of the problem leading to the emergence of innovative and creative alternatives. Ultimately, reflective inquiry involves internally examining a concern or problem by reflecting-in and-on the multiple strands of reasoning to create and clarify meaning and understanding which results in new learning, a changed conceptual perspective or alternative approaches to practice (Lyons 2008, pp. 15–16).
Considering the Ethical Dimensions of Professional Reflective Practice Common to many professionals who practice reflection as awareness of the ethical dimensions of their practice. Handbook authors Vicki LaBoskey and Mary Lynn Hamilton link their profession of teacher education with particular moral and ethical concerns of teachers. … reflection can be the means by which teachers learn from their experiences so as to improve themselves and their profession. It is not a way, but the way for making meaning that is justified – empirically, theoretically, morally. But in order for this promise to be fulfilled, we, like many other teacher educators at present, consider this insistence on deeper learning and transformed beliefs to be a necessary but not a sufficient effort. Also essential is greater specification of the ends toward which reflective teaching is directed, and, like Zeichner & Liston (1996), we have very particular ends in mind: “I will argue that efforts to prepare teachers who are reflective must both foster genuine teacher development and support the realization of greater equity and social justice in schooling and the larger society.” This means that the criteria we apply in determining whether the solutions teachers develop for their dilemmas of practice are meaningful and effective – the aim of professional reflection, according to Schon (1983) – must include indicators of progress with regard to equity and social justice. What is more, the nature of the problems we choose to investigate and the ways in which they are framed are transformed by this orientation: “This involves framing certain educational issues as dilemmas rather than problems with clear solutions and deliberating thoughtfully about decisions that involve competing claims to justice” (Cochran-Smith 2004, p. 15).
Making Inquires into One’s Own Puzzles of Professional Practice Reflective inquiry has nearly an imperative to encourage inquiry, that is, investigations into the puzzles of practice. Classroom teacher Michaelann Kelley and her Handbook author colleagues, Paul Gray, Donna Reid and Cheryl Craig argue: “We furthermore assert that there is a dire need for teacher inquiry, a fluid form of investigation, to balance the current educational regime’s romance with quantifiable results.” The teachers continue: The first issue to be highlighted is that of politics. Unlike the other professions, the knowledge base of teaching has largely been under the thumb of policymakers, causing teaching to be considered a “lower” or “sub-profession”. Even when substantial funds have been invested in teaching and teacher education, funded research has centered on efficiency questions – questions of number, speed, accuracy, impact – questions that use reflection to serve the purposes of others but do not advance and reflective practice and the powerful contributions it can make to the quality of lives lived. While reflective practice fundamentally honors the individual human right to experience, inquire, and know one’s own situation, it inevitably collides with the politics of those for whom control through discipline, punishment and testing is the ultimate aim. And when those in charge politically authorize a single mode of investigation as “the method” – with an eye to extinguish the rest, the complexities of an already political situation become escalated. Here, the politically charged “reading wars” and the press for value-added research in teacher education immediately come to mind (Lyons 2008, Survey Study, pp. 6–7).
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Considering the Political, Social and Cultural Dimensions of Teaching and Learning Classroom teachers Michaelann and her colleagues identify what they have encountered in their teaching experiences, They emphasize how they are embedded in the political, as well as the social and cultural. “We begin with the reform movement context, which provided both opportunities and constraints. The opportunities available to us are abundantly evident in the exemplars we shared concerning what we were able to accomplish, often with the assistance of local reform funding. Yet, the constraints we faced were equally daunting. First, there was the historical baggage associated with the teacher as implementer role, which automatically burdened the change effort, creating ongoing tensions relating to how we were perceived by others and sometimes intuitively perceived by ourselves, due to our positioning within and across our respective educational milieus. Second, there were the inevitable rivalries that erupted between and among school districts and the reform agency (and sometimes even universities), all of which have attempted to lay claims to our practices at different points in time. Third, there was the unrelenting press for accountability and the fact that the highly qualified teacher, as nationally defined, is one who is merely a subject matter expert. This narrow definition not only renders our individual and collective endeavors invalid, but our contributions over the past decade inconsequential. These highly convoluted and troubling matters lead us to agree with Craig and Ross who maintain that the theory-practice split in[researcher and theorist] Schwab’s time has become a theory-practice-policy split in our own. We join with those authors in calling for the careful unraveling of complex dilemmas – with far reaching ramifications – at the nexus where theory, practice, and policy meet” (Lyons 2008, Survey Study, p. 6).
Determining a Viable and Valid Policy of Dealing with the Assessment of Reflection One issue that will clearly be carried over into the future of reflective practice is assessment. Social workers, Marian Murphy and Carmel Halton, address the question: What is the future of reflective practice in this profession? what are the burning issues? the puzzles? “One of the key debates in the social work literature on reflective teaching and learning has centred on perceived difficulties with assessment. At a conference in the UK in November 2007, Ghaye posed the questions: ‘How do we assess reflective accounts, and should we be assessing them in any case? The debate centres on what is being assessed – process or output – and the perception that the ‘subjectivity’ of assessors places learners at an unfair disadvantage”. Ixer (1999) has described these concerns: Social work has become steeped in demands that students should demonstrate reflection in practice as a learning outcome. The danger this poses to vulnerable learners in the assessment relationship when assessors’ own conceptions of reflection may be poorly formed and may not match those of their students is worryingly likely to compound the imbalance of power between them…until such time as we can state more clearly what it is, we have to accept that there is no theory of reflection that can be adequately assessed (Ixer, p. 513 as cited in original). This position is considered extreme by some who point to other evidence, such as the exemplary assessment work of the National Board for Professional Teaching Standards. Concerns about the possible exploitation of students/workers in the assessment of their reflective capacities seem to stem from the erroneous perception that reflection is only about the student looking inwards, ‘navel gazing’ as it has been described, and that any attempt to assess these ‘subjective’ accounts is rife with opportunities for misunderstandings, unclear expectations of assessors, and abuse of power. The other erroneous assumption upon which this view is based is that reflection is just one of a number of learning outcomes, so that assessment tools have a purely summative purpose. Boud (1999) has suggested that conflating assessment and reflection is
29â•… Reflection and Reflective Inquiry: What Future? unhelpful as there are inherent contradictions in the nature of reflection and the nature of assessment: ‘Assessment involves putting forward one’s best work ……Reflection, on the other hand, is about exploration, understanding, questioning, probing discrepancies and so on. There is always a danger that assessment will obliterate the very practices of reflection which courses aim to promote.’ (Boud 1999, p. 123)
For Handbook authors Vicki LaBoskey and Mary Lynn Hamilton assessment is tied to: the nature of the assignment/activity, but in most cases, evidence of reflection is sought and what constitutes evidence again depends on how reflection is defined. Typically that evidence would include things like, raising questions about outcomes, probing deeply into personal assumptions, considering outcomes and engagements from multiple perspectives, making decisions based upon multiple data sources rather than just personal reactions, asking questions about “Who benefits?”, having reasons that are well-justified by the literature, personal experience, and student data, etc.
Looking to the Future: The Vision: Professions must constantly re-invent themselves. Today the challenges are enormous. Occupational Therapists are looking forward to a 100th birthday in several years. They outline some of the things they are contemplating for their future. The profession, Occupational Therapy, is thriving and stretching itself in a number of directions. The American Occupational Therapy Association has a strategic vision that by it’s 100th Anniversary in 2017. Occupational therapy will be a “ powerful, widely recognized, science-driven, and evidence-based profession with a globally connected and diverse workforce meeting society’s occupational needs”. (AOTA’s Centennial Vision and Executive Summary 2006).
Inherent to this vision are challenges requiring individuals and groups to consider a range of issues such as: • How does the profession obtain the power within social structures to maximize its potential contribution without sacrificing its social values and while continuing to • Advocate for individuals and groups who’s ability to participate in desired occupations is compromised? • What is the essence of the profession which should be “widely recognized”? Occupational therapy’s wide application and use of customized approaches defies the use of simple descriptors which seem necessary in today’s society to gain recognition • What kind of science and what kind of evidence is most effective for making professional decisions? • How should practitioners best be prepared to meet a broadening array of clients in across a range of cultural and ethnic contexts? • Do the methods evolved from individual and small group services work with larger communities and populations? The classroom teachers, authors of a chapter in this Handbook gave their own take on the future of reflective practice: “Since this, reflective practice, occurs as a normal part of practice (even if it is not named or recognized as such) it has an enduring future.” (Lyons 2008).
Coda: Visions of the Future In concluding this discussion of the possible future of reflective practice I turn again to our original guides, Maxine Greene and Lee Shulman. When asked about their visions of the future of reflection and reflective practice, Maxine Greene said she was cautiously optimistic, but cautious. What she could aver is that it is easy for people to be submerged in the crowd, to lose the opportunity to think for
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themselves. The only way is to remain awake to life, to possibilities, to be self aware, to reflect on your life and remain wide awake: I am very influenced by existentialism and the thought that you can be submerged in the crowd, and if you’re submerged in the crowd and have no opportunity to think for yourself, to look through your own eyes, life is dull and flat and boring. The only way to really awaken to life, awaken to the possibilities, is to be self-aware (Cruickshank 2008, p. 1).
When asked if there were any advice she would give to someone who would be mentoring a professional like a teacher or a doctor or a lawyer in reflective practice, Maxine responded: I would ask him to speak informally at the beginning, what he thinks about his own thinking, how reflective is it, impulsive, instinctive, etc. That’s what I would ask him and I would ask him to look back at some of the decisions he’s made. And I think that may not be the best thing, but that is what I would start with. Because I think people have more responsibility for what they say, what they do. They can look back on, Did I really believe this or am I entertaining the public or saying what somebody else wants me to say? That worries me so much, especially in academe, being afraid.. . So I don’t know. Other people have different ideas, but that is where I would start (Lyons 2009, p. 19). Lee Shulman said he had no doubt that reflection would survive.” I’ve been told that it is difficult to find any teacher education program today that is not doing reflective portfolios. The same is true in several other professions. So I am not worried. But what really bothers me is the possibility that reflective practice could blot out the sun, that is, teaching itself. The great challenge in teaching is to come to understand how do you teach someone something you know well and the student does not? Like fractions. You need to have a systematic way to think about teaching math. If you could have a video of several different ways teachers teach fractions and could analyze the elements, the concepts, the approach. Then you might begin to construct a signature pedagogy. But this is difficult task. To master a subject and sort out its essential elements, and to examine them in a variety of forms. What are the essential things people must know? How could a learner practice that again and again? Looking at videos of various ways teachers teach fractions would be a great beginning. When I think about medicine, doctors learn how to take a medical history. They can video themselves and view others doing that – and they do that again and again. That is one way to learn. And I believe that is what is important to keep in mind when people urge teaching for social justice. If you do not know how to teach the math, that is something that is unjust. I think we need to attend to this problem of teaching a subject. Deborah Ball, one of my former students, is deeply engaged in this problem of teaching. She is asking: What do teachers have to do and therefore have to learn? She argues that teaching is a specialized form of work that entails substantial content-based problem solving and reasoning (Ball 2003, p. 1). I find what teachers have to do like other professions is extraordinarily complex and endlessly fascinating. And when you are preparing someone to teach, then you are preparing them to know, to think, to understand what they need to understand in order to practice. It is just a beginning. There is much more. The educator in a profession is teaches someone to understand in order to act, to act in order to make a difference in the minds and lives of others – in order to serve others responsibly and with integrity. A professional is not someone for whom understanding is sufficient. Understanding is necessary, yes, but it is not sufficient. A professional has to be prepared to act, to perform, to practice, whether they have enough information or not. I think that so much of learning in professional education could be described as learning a signature pedagogy. As I have written, what I mean by a signature pedagogy is a mode of teaching that has become inextricably Identified with preparing people for a particular profession. So you wouldn’t expect clinical rounds in a law school. And even though it might be very effective, you wouldn’t expect a case dialogue or case method teaching of this sort in a medical school. Second it is pervasive within the curriculum. So that students learn that there are certain threads through the program that are part of what it means “to think like a lawyer,” or “think like a physician….Signature pedagogies have become essential to general pedagogy of an entire profession, as elements of instruction and of socialization. What are some of the characteristics of these pedagogies? The first is that they are habitual, they are routine. The rules of engagement in this kind of pedagogy are repeated again and again. And it doesn’t seem to make the classes boring…What is fascinating in the signature pedagogies of these professions is the extent to which the novelty comes from the subject matter itself... The second thing, you see, is that both the students and their thought processes are made visible in the signature pedagogies of the professions (Shulman 2005, p. 53).
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Shulman Concludes: “It is my hope to be able to step back and see how to create a signature pedagogy for teaching. I know that in spite of all the knowledge students gain in learning how to teach if I had five different social studies teachers, I would not have a clue as to how they would teach a lesson or if and how they might be similar in approach. So one of my hopes is to work on this. But it is time to pass the project on, so I look to some of my students to join in the effort.” So the masters pass on their hopes, their agendas; and the puzzles – still to solve – are passed on too.
Conclusion This chapter identifies and puts forward five principles that can enhance the future of reflection and reflective inquiry in professional life: 1. Teach Reflection and reflective inquiry systematically and explicitly as an aim of professional education; encouraging the study of the concepts of reflection as well as ideas of the practice of it; emphasizing the role of educators themselves as engaged in reflecting on their own practice; attending to the development of students as professionals identifying effective methods of engaging in practicum as well as theoretical study of reflection and reflective inquiry; and of themselves as a practitioner of a particular profession. 2. Examine and explore ethical dimensions of professional practice as a part of professional education, asking what are the likely ethical issues to emerge in this profession and potential responses to them. 3. Advance the scholarship of teaching by encouraging practitioners themselves to make inquiries into issues, puzzles of their own professional practice. 4. Identify the political, social, and cultural dimensions of professional life and learning that need to be considered as critical contexts of professional education, with their own imperatives and ethical dimensions. 5. Investigate the complexities of assessment of reflection and reflective practice as ongoing mandates for investigation of professional study and research. Please consider this project as invitation to join in the future of reflective inquiry.
References Ball, D. (2003). Using content knowledge in teaching: What do teachers have to do, and therefore have to learn? Keynote address. Conference on sustainability for local systemic change, University of Michigan. Retrieved May 3, 2009, from http://sustainability2003.terc.edu/key. Boud, D. (1999). Avoiding the traps: Seeking good practice and the use of self assessment and reflection in professional courses, Social Work Education, 18(2), 121–132. Boud, D., & Falchikov, N. (2007). Rethinking assessment in higher education: Learning for the longer term. London: Routledge. Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching. (2009). Preparation for the professions program. Retrieved January 9, 2009, from http://www:carnegiefoundation.org. Cochran-Smith, M.(2004). Walking the Road: Race, Diversity, and Social Justice in Teacher Education. Teachers College Press, New York. Cruickshank, D. (2008). Maxine Greene: The importance of personal reflection. Retrieved March 29, 2009, from http://www.edutopia.org/maxine-greene. Kuhn, D. (2005). Education for thinking. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Loughran, J. (2006). Developing a pedagogy of teacher education. London: Routledge.
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N. Lyons Lyons, N (2007–9). Scaffolding reflective inquiry, Unpublished pamphlet, University College Cork. Lyons, N. (2008). Survey study data. The future of reflection and reflective inquiry. Unpublished study, summary document. Lyons, N. (2009). Interview project. Unpublished data. Ixer, G. (1999). “There is no such thing as reflection,” British Journal of Social Work, 29(6), 13–27. Rodgers, C. (2002). Defining reflection: Another look at John Dewey and reflective thinking. Teachers College Record, 104(4), 842–866. Russell, T. (2005). Can reflective practice be taught? Reflective Practice, 6(2), 199–204. Schon, D. A. (1983). The reflective practitioner: How professionals think in action. New York: Basic Books. Shulman, L. (2005). Signature pedagogies in the professions. Daedalus, 134(3), 52–59. Ward, J. R. & Mc Cotter, S. S. (2004). Reflection as a visible outcome for pre-service teachers, Teaching and Teacher Education, 20, 243–257. Zeichner, K. & Liston, D. (1996). Reflective teaching: An introduction, Routledge/Erlbaum, New York.
Author Index
A Achinstein, B., 202 Ackerman, R., 410 Admiraal, W., 192 Aelterman, A., 195 Akin, R., 194 Aktins, S., 369 Alejandro, 57 Alerby, E., 192 Alexander, T., 10 Ali, I., 112 Allan, T., 407 Allen, D., 293, 302 Allery, L.A., 360 Almaas, A.H., 536, 546, 548, 549 Als, H., 107 Alsup, J., 493, 495 Althusser, L., 220 Altrichter, H., 197, 275 Ames, R.T., 76 Amsterdam, A.G., 89 Anderson, D., 419 Anderson, G., 275 Anderson-Patton, V., 340 Angelo, T., 30 Anthony, R.C., 101–126 Antler, J., 11 Anzalone, F.M., 85–98 Appelbaum, S., 560 Appiah, A., 391 Arato, A., 560 Argyris, C., 93, 160, 162, 243, 245–247, 251, 368, 419 Arky, R.A., 124 Armstrong, M., 302 Arnold, L., 352 Arsham, H., 108 Arthur, J., 402 Arygris, C., 218 Assagioli, R., 543 Atkins, S., 3, 159, 275 Aukes, L.C., 365 Austin, T., 281, 343 Azer, S.A., 359
B Bain, J.D., 193 Baines, L., 75 Baird, J.R., 400 Baker, R.C., 356 Baldwin, M., 174, 245, 252 Ball, D.L., 195, 196, 257, 455, 491, 576 Ballengee-Morris, C., 407 Banks, J., 319 Baratz-Snowdon, J., 500 Barbour, R., 176 Barnard, P., 123 Barnes, D., 343 Barnett, B.G., 401, 405 Barone, T., 195 Barrett, H.C., 279, 356, 362 Barsalou, L.W., 419 Basler, R.P., 87 Bass, L., 340 Basseches, M., 216, 225 Bateson, M.C., 390 Baughman, K., 195 Baum, C., 136 Bean, T.W., 193 Beasley, K., 72 Beattie, M., 193 Beck, C., 193, 194 Beck, C.J.A., 91 Beijaard, D., 195, 535, 549 Belenky, M.F., 26, 136, 494, 500, 518 Ben-Peretz, M., 194, 197 Benjafield, J.G., 419 Benner, P., 142, 159 Bennis, W.G., 4, 5 Bentley, A., 274 Bereiter, C., 490, 491, 494 Bergmark, U., 564 Bernard, H.R., 422 Berne, J., 495 Berrington, B., 356 Berry, A., 342, 410 Berwick, D., 108 Beveridge, I., 364 Bhaskar, R., 561 579
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Author Index Biesta, G.J.J., 538 Billig, M., 465 Bing, R., 133 Blacker, D.J., 205 Blank, L., 358 Blasco, P.G., 361 Blasi, G.L., 92 Bleakley, A., 276, 373, 495, 497 Bleicher, J., 483 Bloom, B.S., 89 Blythe, T., 177, 181, 293, 302 Bochner, A., 566 Bode, B., 399 Bodeau-Livinec, F., 110 Bodone, F., 342 Boenink, A.D., 365, 371 Bohm, D., 540 Bok, D., 6, 7, 26, 31 Bolton, G., 241, 354, 358, 361, 363, 365 Bond, L., 89 Bond, W., 112 Bordage, G., 367 Borko, H., 192, 197, 491 Borrell-Carrio, F., 107 Borrowman, M., 399 Borton, T., 416, 420 Boshuizen, H.P.A., 490 Boucouvalas, M., 535 Boud, D., 3, 41, 71, 184, 276, 360, 365, 367–369, 373, 479, 571, 575 Bourdieu, P., 220, 477 Bourke, J., 360 Boydston, J.A., 10, 11 Boyer, E.L., 15, 406, 490 Boyt Schell, B.A., 131–154 Branch, T., 231 Branch, W.T. Jr., 357, 360, 373 Brandenburg, R., 345, 531 Bransford, J.D., 459, 490 Brearley, J., 246 Bresler, L., 197 Brint, S., 6, 7, 20 Brinton, D., 193 Britzman, D., 490, 493, 494, 497, 503 Broadfoot, P.M., 477, 478 Brockbank, A., 363, 368, 373 Brookfield, S.D., 3, 4, 93, 175, 193, 215–235, 360, 400, 504, 522 Brown, E., 346 Brown, J.S., 454 Brown, K.W., 541 Brown, P., 195 Bruner, J.S., 205, 275, 281, 336, 395, 416 Brunyate, R.W., 135 Buchanan, H., 152 Buchmann, M., 192 Bullough, R.V., 70, 195, 197, 281, 334, 335, 337 Burbank, P., 159–171 Burch, V.C., 364 Burchell, H., 194, 197 Burger, M., 409 Burke, J.P., 134, 136
Burrell, C., 112 Burton, A.J., 159 Burton, R.B., 391, 454 Butler-Kisber, L., 277 Byrne, D., 498 C Calderhead, J., 3, 68, 70, 530 Cami, A.E., 453–471 Campbell, C., 365, 367 Campbell-Evans, G., 194 Carger, C., 198 Carini, P.F., 46, 47, 50, 59, 302, 519 Carnoy, M., 75 Carr, W., 68, 275, 401 Carraccio, C., 362 Carter, K.R., 261, 530 Case, R., 111 Castle, J.B., 406 Chak, A., 400 Challis, M., 364 Chan, E., 196, 198 Chang, P.J., 197 Charon, R., 360, 361, 365 Chen, A.-Y., 415–430 Chi, M.T.H., 93 Chirema, K., 361 Chisholm, C.D., 360 Chokshi, S., 258 Chowdhry, D., 559 Christiansen, C.H., 131, 136 Christiansen, H., 197 Christie, E.N., 403 Clabo, L.M.L., 159–171 Clandinin, D.J., 193, 195–198, 206, 274, 276, 278–281, 283, 291, 334, 492, 493, 495, 530 Clandinin, J.D., 3, 20, 383–396 Clark, C.M., 197 Clark, F., 137, 139 Clarke, A., 193, 246, 345, 404 Clarke, C., 175, 495, 511 Clarke, D.M., 261 Clarke, M., 159 Claxton, G., 496 Clift, R.T., 3, 68, 193, 194 Clinchy, B.V., 29, 30 Coburn, K.G., 75 Cochran-Smith, M., 4, 18, 36, 69, 194, 196, 197, 205, 206, 257, 274, 334, 336, 490–492, 494, 495, 522, 573 Cochrane, A.L., 140 Cohen, D.K., 257, 491 Cohen, J., 560 Cohn, E.S., 131–154, 572 Colby, A., 89 Cole, A.L., 74, 337 Cole, R., 193 Coles, C., 363, 364 Coles, R., 199 Collins, A.M., 402, 403 Collins, P.H., 37
Author Index Compton, M., 74 Comte, A., 369 Conan-Doyle, A., 108 Conle, C., 196, 198, 285 Connelly, F.M., 195, 196, 198, 206, 274, 276, 278–281, 283, 291, 334, 385, 387, 492, 493, 495, 530 Conway, K.D., 420, 498 Conway, P.F., 495 Cook, D.A., 114, 357 Cooke, M., 4, 124, 520 Coolahan, J., 498 Cooperrider, D.L., 558 Copeland, W., 194 Corcoran, T.B., 257 Corrigan, J., 360 Costa, A.L., 293, 401 Coster, W.S., 153 Coulehan, J.L., 101, 357 Coulshed, V., 242, 245 Cowan, J., 416, 420 Cox, K.R., 116, 121 Craft, M., 74 Craig, C., 189–206, 257, 276–278, 280, 282, 284, 285, 287, 288, 291, 294, 342, 573, 574 Craig, E., 320 Cramton, R., 88 Cranton, P., 548 Cremin, L., 13 Crepaeu, E.B., 131–154, 572 Crist, P., 152 Croskerry, P., 101, 104–106, 360 Cross, P.K., 30 Cruess, S.R., 352 Cruickshank, D., 3, 576 Csikszentmihalyi, M., 536 Cushman, K., 279, 300 Custer, L.B., 87 D D’Ambrosio, B.S., 260 Dagley,V., 356 Daicoff, S., 91 Dalmau, M., 281 Damasio, A.R., 531, 537 Dana, N.F., 416 Dannefer, E., 354, 364 Darling-Hammond, L., 4, 19, 36, 74, 80, 257, 490, 491, 495, 500, 512 Darnton, R., 117 DasGupta, S., 361, 365 Daudelin, M.W., 406 Davenport, T.H., 417 Davies, A., 277 Davis, J., 119 Davis, M.H., 353, 363, 364, 372 Day, C., 69, 195, 196, 491, 492, 495, 497, 530, 531 De Certeau, M., 392 de Cossart, L., 118, 122 De Lawter, K., 408
581 De Mulder, E., 196 De Salvo, L., 561 Deci, E.L., 531, 537 Dembele, M., 72 Dempsey, M., 173–187 DeNeufville, J., 15 Dent, J.A., 122 Desimone, L.M., 257 Dewey, J., 3, 4, 9–13, 19, 38–41, 46–48, 51, 59, 68, 71, 76, 105, 116, 122, 177, 189, 190, 192, 193, 205, 206, 274, 275, 299, 312, 333, 371, 374, 383–385, 387–389, 391, 394, 395, 399, 409, 415, 419, 483–485, 494, 495, 504, 509, 529, 555 Diamond, C.T.P., 196 Dilts, R., 534 Dinkelman, T., 70, 193, 334, 340, 343 Dittrich, L., 361 Diwakar, V., 101 Doan, R.E., 562 Doel, M., 181 Doll, W.E. Jr., 416 Donahue, D.M., 337 Donovan, M.S., 106 Dornan, T., 356 Double, J.M., 407 Downey, C.A., 383–396 Doyal, L., 368 Doyle, W., 530 Dreissen, E.W., 359 Dreyfus, H., 372 Dreyfus, S., 372 Driessen, E.W., 123, 354–357, 359–367, 371, 372 Du Bois, W.E.B., 39 Ducharme, E.R., 194 Ducharme, M.K., 194 Duckworth, E., 519 Dunn, W., 136 Duvall, C.K., 560 Dweck, C., 266 Dworkin, M.S., 9 Dyson, M.E., 8 E Eagen, K., 358 Eagleton, T., 220, 221 Ebstein, R.M., 107 Egan, K., 195, 276 Einhorn, S., 560 Eisner, E.W., 205, 454 Elango, S., 355 Elbaz, F., 334 Elbaz-Luwisch, F., 191, 192, 195, 196, 198, 205, 278, 281 Elidottir, J., 192 Elliott, J., 190, 275 Elwyn, G., 119 Ember, 101 Ende, J., 101 Engel, B., 300 Engel, J., 361
582
Author Index England, H., 175 Englander, R., 362 Engler, R., 89 Epstein, R.M., 107, 352, 361, 365, 370, 372–374 Eraut, M., 160, 175, 193, 245, 370, 490, 503 Erickson, G., 68 Erickson, G.L., 191, 193 Eron, L.D., 357 Estola, E., 195 Eva, K., 373 Evans, D., 120 Evelein, F., 537 F Fadiman, A., 101 Fagerberg, I., 170 Falchikov, F., 571 Faraj, S., 417 Farr, M.J., 93 Farr-Darling, L., 193, 345, 495 Farrow, K., 247 Feiman-Nemser, S., 69, 72, 495, 500, 501 Feinberg, D.T., 101, 103 Fendler, L., 80, 192, 495 Fenstermacher, G., 192, 337 Fernandez, C., 258, 268 Ferrara, E., 361, 365 Ferre, F., 369 Feudtner, C., 357 Feuerverger, G., 198 Fidler, G.S., 135 Field, J., 194 Fine, M., 50 Finocchiaro, M.A., 465 Fischer, K., 111 Fish, D., 115, 118, 121 Fishman, S., 524 Flanagan, J.C., 360 Flavell, J.H., 106 Fleet, A., 70 Fleming, M., 137 Flexner, A., 4, 125, 520 Florio-Ruane, S., 196 Foley, E., 257 Follett, M.P., 222 Fong Lee, S., 194 Fook, J., 174, 240, 241 Foucault, M., 221, 561, 565 Frank, J., 88 Franks, R., 357 Fraser, N., 37 Fraser, S.W., 369, 370, 373 Fredrickson, B.L., 537–539 Fredriksen, J., 419 Freedman, S., 72 Freese, A.R., 193, 334, 340 Freidus, H., 180, 194, 196, 276, 495 Freire, P., 3, 4, 16, 17, 19, 36, 37, 40, 42, 43, 68, 122, 160, 231, 500, 522, 523, 563 Frich, J.C., 361 Friedman Ben David, M., 353, 362 Friedman, L.M., 87
Fry, R., 530 Fryer-Edwards, K., 354, 357 Fugelli, P., 361 Fullan, M., 419, 491, 497, 498 Fulton, K., 491, 512 Fung, A., 560 G Gadamer, H.G., 483 Gahye, T., 279, 495 Garcia, L.M., 406 Gardner, H., 106, 119, 301, 303, 419 Garet, M.S., 257 Garmon, A., 193 Gates, P., 3, 68, 530 Gawande, A., 6, 520 Gay, G., 74 Gearhart, M.G., 361 Gelfer, J., 279 Gergen, K., 556 Germer, C.K., 541 Ghaye, T., 8, 183, 196, 553–567, 574 Gibbons, A., 293 Giddens, A., 560, 562 Gimbert, B.G., 403, 405 Ginsburg, H.P., 257–270, 453–471 Ginsburg, S., 360 Gipps, C., 477, 478 Giroux, H., 37, 42, 494 Gisselle, 356 Gitlin, A., 197 Givelber, D.J., 89 Gladwell, M., 104 Glaser, R., 93, 477 Glass, R.D., 37 Glassner, A., 465 Glaze, J.E., 159, 169 Glazer, C., 197 Goh, C.T., 421 Goldblatt, P.F., 410 Goldin, G., 261 Goleman, D., 106 Gonzales, N., 74 Goodfellow, J., 197 Goodson, I., 195, 334 Gopnik, A., 111 Gordon, J., 361, 364, 365, 367, 371 Gore, J., 68, 197, 205, 275, 492 Gould, N., 175, 243, 245, 252 Gowin, D.B., 260 Gramsci, A., 217, 222 Granger, D.A., 388 Grant, A.M., 356, 365 Grant, C., 68 Grant, G., 495 Gray, J., 194 Gray, P., 273–294, 573 Greene, M., 205, 395, 494, 511, 512, 518, 541, 576 Greenhalgh, T., 119, 361, 369 Greg Kalscheur, S.J., 90 Gregory, M., 173, 175
Author Index Griffin, A.F.A., 416 Griffiths, M., 369, 416, 560 Grimmett, P., 3, 68, 193, 409 Groopman, J., 6, 110, 113 Grossman, G., 87 Grossman, P., 72, 197 Grumet, M., 195 Grundy, S., 357 Guba, E., 521 Gudjónsdóttir, H., 281 Gudmundsdottir, S., 196, 274, 531 Guilfoyle, K., 336 Gunderman, R.B., 124 Gustafsson, C., 170 Gutmann, D., 560 Guzman, M.T., 320 Gwyn, R., 119 H Habermas, J., 3, 41, 68, 160, 217, 555, 560, 566 Hafferty, F.W., 101, 357 Hall, D.T., 90, 406 Hall, R., 374 Halton, C., 32, 33, 173–187, 237–252, 574 Hamilton, M.L., 333–347, 573, 575 Hamlin, K.D., 193 Hammond, J.S., 108 Han, E., 369 Handal, G., 69, 70 Handfield-Jones, R., 372 Hansen, D.T., 3, 39, 50, 59, 535 Hanson, E.J., 559 Harden, R.M., 122, 352, 362 Harford, J., 498 Hargreaves, A., 491, 497, 531, 537 Hargreaves, D., 419 Harland, T., 193 Harré, R., 202 Harrison, J.K., 405 Hart, A., 279, 280 Harvey, D., 74 Harvey, L., 358 Hasseler, S.S., 402 Hatch, T., 279 Hatchuel, A., 565 Hatem, D., 361, 365 Hatton, N., 3, 70, 193, 369 Hawkins, A.H., 360 Hawkins, P., 368 Haynes, A.B., 108 Hays, R., 364, 371 He, M.F., 198 Healy, K., 173, 175, 240–242, 247, 248, 251, 252 Heifetz, R., 438, 442 Heikkinen, H., 281 Hemlin, S., 561 Henderson, J.G., 416 Henderson, S.W., 361 Henson, L., 354, 364 Heritage, M., 453 Herman, J.L., 363, 365, 374 Hermes, M., 196
583 Herr, K., 275 Hess, G.F., 91 Heywood, P., 356 Hickman, L., 10 Hiebert, 493 Higgins, A., 171 Hillocks, G., Jr., 196 Hilton, S., 361 Himley, M., 46 Hindon, A., 197 Hinett, K., 94 Hoban, G.F., 194 Hobbs, V., 276, 277 Hoekstra, A., 537 Hoel, T., 531 Hofer, B., 26, 37 Hoffman, E., 392 Hoffman-Kipp, P., 72 Holbrook, P., 25 Hollingsworth, S., 197, 275 Hollins, E.R., 320 Holloway, M., 173 Holm, M.B., 140 Holt, J., 266 Homer, M., 357 Hong, M., 76 Hooper, B., 137 Hopkins, H., 134 Hopmann, S., 190 Horner, N., 177 Horton, M., 231 Horton, R., 3, 6, 519, 520 Houston, W.R., 68 Howard, B.S., 153 Howard, R., 560 Howard, T., 74 Hoy, W.H., 534 Huang, Y., 76 Huber, J., 195, 198 Huber, M., 31 Huberman, M., 275 Huebner, T.A., 495 Hughes, J., 407 Hull, B., 302 Hullfish, H.G., 80, 399 Hundert, E., 372 Hurson, T., 565 Hurwitz, B., 119, 361 Hussey, S.M., 135 Husu, J., 197, 198 Hutchings, P., 31 Hutchinson, N.L., 340 Hutson, L., 25 I Ibbotson, P., 556, 559, 564 Immordino-Yang, M.H., 537 Innes, M., 238 Intrator, S.M., 539, 549 Inui, T.S., 352 Irvine, D., 101 Iwama, M., 139
584
Author Index Ixer, G., 183, 574, 575 Izumi, L., 75 J Jackson, P.W., 71, 195, 388 Jacob, E., 74 Jacobs, G., 559 James, H., 517 James, W., 108, 454 Janis, I.L., 436 Jasper, M., 361 Jaszi, P., 89 Jay, J.K., 193, 404 Jennings, C., 245 Jensen, G.M., 141 Johns, C., 359 Johnson, D., 74 Johnson, J., 136 Johnson, K.L., 193, 404 Johnston, M., 343 Jones, A., 118 Jones, C., 239 Jones, M.M., 531 Jordan Irvine, J., 74 Jordan, J.A., 229 Jung, B., 361 K Kabat-Zinn, J., 373, 541 Kahane, A., 562 Kalet, A.L., 356 Kallick, B., 293, 401 Kalscheur, G.A., 90 Kamien, M., 122 Kanevsky, R., 300 Kaplan, I., 361 Kaplan, J., 341 Kasl, E., 18 Kasman, D.L., 361, 362 Kaufka, B., 555 Keeva, S., 86 Keeves, J.P., 478 Kegan, R., 433–449, 494, 497, 506 Kelchtermans, G., 196, 342, 530 Kelley, M., 197, 273–294, 573 Kelly, M., 117, 351–377 Kemmis, S., 68, 73, 275, 357, 401, 555 Kennedy, E., 245 Kennedy, M., 501 Kenny, N., 101, 103, 124 Kidder, R., 560 Kielhofner, G., 134, 136 Kim, H.S., 3, 159–171 Kimball, B.A., 87 King, L.S., 370 King, P.M., 226, 371, 372 Kinsella, E.A., 132 Kirk, L., 358 Kirkland, K., 74 Kitchen, J., 340, 342 Kitchener, K.S., 226, 371, 372
Kjaer, N., 355, 365 Knefelkamp, L., 28 Knight, L., 352 Knight, P., 358 Knott, C., 174 Knowles, J.G., 337 Knuth, E.J., 260 Kohl, H., 118 Kohn, L., 360 Kolb, D.A., 366, 401, 405, 406, 416, 420, 530, 531, 533 Kooy, M., 196 Korthagen, F.A.J., 80, 118, 194, 336, 337, 341, 343, 366, 490, 495, 511, 529–549 Korver, C., 560 Kosnik, C., 193, 194, 340 Kottkamp, R.B., 275 Krathwohl, D.R., 89 Kremer Hayon, L., 70 Krieger, L.S., 91 Kroath, F., 293 Kronman, A., 90 Kuczewski, M.G., 371 Kuhn, D., 26, 31, 458, 465, 491, 494, 572 Kuhn, T., 189 Kuiper, R.A., 108 Kumagai, A.K., 361, 365 Kunzman, R., 539, 549 L LaBoskey, V.K., 3, 68, 192, 194, 206, 257, 273, 277, 289, 333–347, 490, 492, 494, 495, 573, 575 Ladro-Pardo, G., 194 Ladson-Billings, G., 38, 39, 198 Lagemann, E.C., 67 Lahey, L.L., 433–449, 506 Lai, H., 78 Laight, D.W., 357 Lally, C.G., 193 Lampert, M., 195, 196, 453, 503 Land, R., 117, 373 Langdell, C.C., 87 Langer, E.J., 183 Larrivee, B., 196 Larson, N.J., 477 Latta, M. M., 194, 196 Lauvas, P., 69 Lave, J., 496 Lavie, J.M., 408 Law, M., 136 Lawlor, M.F., 131, 140 Le Guin U., 281 Leadbeater, C., 560 Lee, I., 404 Legault, M., 104, 105 Lengeling, L.J.K., 403 Lent, R.C., 274, 282 Leo, T., 358, 371 Leonardo, Z., 37, 42 Lester, F.K., 260 Lester, H., 357
Author Index Leung, W., 101 Levenson, R.W., 537 Levinson, D., 101 Levy, A., 534, 548 Lewis, C., 258, 262 Lewis, K.O., 356 Lideway, E., 561 Lieberman, A., 197 Liimatainen, L., 159, 169 Lillian, 117 Lillyman, S., 559 Lincoln, Y., 521 Lipman, M., 4, 19, 37, 523 Lipsky, M., 245 Liptak, L., 259 Lipton, M., 511 Liston, D.P., 68, 77, 369, 416, 511, 573 Little, J.W., 72, 300, 322 Liu, K.Y., 67–80 Lomax, P., 340 Lopez, S.J., 536 Lord, B., 293 Lortie, D., 496, 500 Losada, M., 537 Loughran, J.J., 3, 31, 68, 80, 192–194, 197, 243, 336, 343, 399–410, 491, 494, 495, 518, 520, 555, 571 Low, E., 112 Lu, X., 77 Lu, Z., 77 Lucas, T., 74, 319 Ludwig, D.S., 373 Lundeberg, M., 410 Lunenberg, M., 80 Lyall, K., 75 Lyons, M., 495 Lyons, N., 3–21, 25–43, 70, 179, 182, 185, 192, 193, 206, 257, 273, 276, 277, 279, 280, 289, 353, 373, 374, 387, 473–487, 490, 494, 495, 517–525, 571–577 Lytle, S.L., 36, 69, 197, 257, 274, 336, 490 M Ma, L., 262 Maarof, N., 276 Mackey, K., 118 MacKinnon, A.M., 191 Maclean, R., 403 MacRuairc, G., 498 Magnusson, L., 559 Makinster, J.G., 409 Malkki, L.H., 395 Mamede, S., 108, 123, 124, 367, 374 Mandela, N., 232–235 Manouchehri, A., 409 Mansvelder-Longayroux, D., 194, 495 Marcus, 101 Marcuse, H., 220 Markham, M., 80 Marquand, D., 560 Marquez-Zenkov, K., 340 Marsh, C.J., 419
585 Martin, A., 300 Martin, G.A., 407 Martin, M., 479 Martin-Kneip, 356 Martins, M.L.D., 159–171 Marton, F., 365 Marx, K., 391 Mary, U., 534 Masia, B.B., 89 Maslin-Ostrowski, P., 410 Mason, J., 400 Mast, J.V., 257–270 Mathers, N.J., 352, 355, 357, 363, 365, 371 Mattick, K., 352 Mattingly, C., 137 Maudsley, G., 6 Maughan, T.S., 365 Mayer, R.E., 419 Mc Cotter, S.S., 572 McCarthy, B., 247 McCotter, S.S., 70 McCready, T., 363 McDonald, J., 302, 503–505 McEntyre, M.C., 360 McEwan, H., 195, 276 McFarlane, J., 93 McGill, I., 368 McHardy, P., 407 McIntyre, A., 408 McIntyre, D., 80 McIntyre, L.C., 479 McKay, 119 McKee, A., 563 McKnight, K.S., 403 McLaughlin, M.W., 72, 257 McManus, I.C., 123 McMullan, M., 362, 363 McTighe, J., 495, 502 Meares, M., 50 Meijer, P.C., 536, 539, 542, 545 Meirink, J., 197 Melander-Wikman, A., 560 Meltsner, M., 92 Menkel-Meadow, C., 90 Metcalf, L.E., 416 Meyer, J., 117, 560 Mezirow, J., 3, 4, 18, 183, 217, 220, 221, 224, 228, 360, 365, 369, 522, 548 Michaelann, 576 Miles, S., 361 Milgram, S., 435 Miller, G.E., 360 Milner, R., 74 Mingyur Rinpoche, Y., 541 Mirriam, S.B., 548 Mishler, E., 278, 335 Mitchell, C., 281 Mitchell, I., 410 Mitchell, J., 410 Mitchell, R., 302 Mohammed, M.A., 352 Montgomery, K., 113, 124 Moon, J.A., 80, 114, 118, 359, 365, 369, 372, 373
586
Author Index Moore, W.S., 27, 28, 37 More, W.S., 229 Morgan-Fleming, B., 198 Morris, J., 197, 403 Morrison, K., 205 Moss, P.A., 479, 482, 483, 486, 487, 522 Mountford, B., 159 Moyer, J., 369 Mullander, A., 242, 245 Mullen, C.A., 196 Munby, H., 195, 277 Murphy, K., 3, 159, 275, 369 Murphy, M., 173–187, 574 Murray Orr, A., 196 Myer, E., 197 N Nakkula, M.J., 35, 181, 183, 490, 496, 497 Neighbour, R., 112, 113, 117, 118, 123 Newell, R., 159 Newman, M., 223, 225 Ng, D.F.S., 415–430 Ng, E.H., 421 Nias, J., 195, 549 Nicholl, H., 171 Nieto, S., 197, 198 Nissilä, S.-P., 403 Noddings, N., 197, 494, 518, 521 Norlander-Case, K.A., 299 Norman, G., 364, 372 Northfield, J., 336, 343 Novak, J.D., 260 Nussbaum, M., 517, 518, 525 O O’Donohue, M., 358 O’Mahoney, G.R., 401 O’Neill, B., 352 O’Sullivan, P., 363 O’Byrne, P., 241 O’Connor, K. E., 197 O’Toole, J., 4, 5 Oakes, J.A., 4, 19, 36, 37, 511, 523 Oakley, J.A., 403 Oblinger, D.G., 357 Oblinger, J.L., 357 Oda, L.K., 341 Ofman, D., 537 Olson, M.R., 194, 196, 257, 273, 276, 278, 291 Omi, M., 38 Orem, S.L., 564 Orland-Barak, L., 80, 193, 279, 495 Ormiston, 485 Ormrod, J.E., 261 Osberg, D., 538, 540, 541 Osterman, K.F., 275 Oyler, C., 198
P Pajak, E., 80 Paley, V., 493 Palmer, P.J., 56, 522, 535, 549 Papadakis, M.A., 358 Paranjape, A., 357 Parham, D., 137 Park, S., 403 Parker, S., 495 Parry, A., 562 Parton, N., 241 Passeron, 479 Passman, R., 403, 407 Patenaude, J., 357 Paulson, F.L., 368 Paulson, P., 368 Pearce, R.G., 89 Pearson, D., 356, 357, 363 Pease, J., 240, 241 Peden-McAlpine, C., 159, 519 Pee, B., 357, 371 Peel, D., 406 Pellegrino, E.D., 103 Peloquin, S.M., 133 Perkins, D.N., 122 Perry, W.G., 27, 28, 371, 518 Pesut, D.J., 108 Peterman, F., 340 Philleo, T., 193 Phillion, J., 198 Phillips, J., 277 Piaget, J., 105, 111, 454, 455, 459, 460 Pidgeon, 479 Pilalis, J., 176 Pinar, W.F., 274, 416 Pinnegar, S., 195, 197, 281, 334, 335, 337, 345 Pinsky, L., 354 Pintrich, P., 26, 37 Pipkin, G., 274, 282 Pitts, J., 363, 364 Placier, P., 342, 344 Poirier, S., 361 Polanyi, M., 15, 370 Poston, R.S., 417 Preston, M.D., 453–471 Prideaux, D., 372 Priest, A.-M., 406 Priest, H., 356 Proce, H., 80 Prosser, W.L., 86 Prusak, L., 417 Putnam, R., 192, 491 Q Quirk, M., 104–108, 114, 118 R Radcliffe, C., 357 Raelin, J., 193 Rai, L., 174, 177, 184, 185
Author Index
587
Raider-Roth, M.B., 49, 80, 196, 198, 492, 541 Rath, A., 180, 489–512 Ravitch, S.M., 34, 181, 490 Rawls, J., 86 Reason, P., 202, 292 Redlich, J., 86 Redmon, R.J., 409 Redmond, B., 174, 177 Rees, C., 355, 371 Regan, P., 277 Regehr, G., 373 Reid, A., 358 Reid, D., 273–294, 573 Reilly, M., 136 Reina, D., 563 Reina, M., 563 Remnick, D., 455 Renblad, K., 560 Rennert-Ariev, P., 75 Richardson, V., 67, 500 Richert, A.E., 70, 193, 194, 410 Riehl, C., 6 Rigano, D.L., 197 Rigsby, L., 196 Riquarts, K., 190 Ritchie, S.M., 197 Roberts, C., 365 Roberts, P., 356, 363 Robertson, S., 69 Robinson, A., 101 Roblin, N.P., 406 Rodgers, C.R., 3, 8, 45–60, 68–70, 80, 192, 333, 389, 492, 495, 541, 549, 572 Rogers, C.R., 547 Rogers, L., 159 Rosemont, H., 76 Rosenblatt, L.M., 283 Rosiek, J., 197 Ross, V., 191, 196, 274, 287, 294, 574 Rowan, J., 200, 202 Ruch, G., 186 Rugg, H., 399 Russell, D., 405 Russell, T., 80, 192, 193, 195, 277, 340, 572 Rust, F., 196, 197, 495 Ryan, A., 9, 10, 13 Ryan, C.A., 112, 119 Ryan, G.W., 422 Ryan, R.M., 531, 541 Ryken, A.E., 197 Ryu, C., 417
Samaras, A., 334 Sambamurthy, V., 417 Sandars, J., 356, 357 Sarason, S.B., 320, 494, 500 Sarikaya, O., 357 Saunders, J., 124 Sawyer, R.K., 491 Scharmer, C.O., 540 Schell, B.A.B., 131, 154, 572 Schkade, J.K., 136 Schmidt, H.G., 367, 374, 483 Scholes, J., 371 Schön, D.A., 3–5, 12–16, 19, 30, 48, 68–70, 74, 76, 92, 104, 114, 132, 137, 142, 159, 160, 169, 175–177, 189, 191–193, 205, 206, 243–247, 251, 275, 284, 334, 368, 369, 371, 374, 388, 389, 394, 400, 404, 406, 409, 416, 419, 420, 483, 504, 506, 529, 555, 572, 573 Schonmann, S., 197 Schrag, P.G., 92 Schrift, 485 Schuck, S., 346 Schulman, L., 122 Schulte, A.K., 340, 346 Schultz, B., 198 Schultz, S., 136 Schutz, A., 482, 522 Schwab, J.J., 190, 191, 206, 273, 274, 276, 504, 574 Schwabsky, N., 340 Schwandt, T.A., 566 Schwartz, D.L., 459 Schwartz, K.B., 131, 134 Schwartz, M.H., 94 Schwarz, B.B., 465 Schwille, J., 72 Seely-Brown, J., 491 Segal, Z.V., 107 Seggie, J.L., 364 Seidel, S., 51, 177, 198, 299–312, 504 Seligman, M.E.P., 536, 546, 562 Sell, 75 Semardo, 37 Senese, J., 281 Senge, P., 246, 540, 541, 549 Seo, K.-H., 260 Sewall, 50 Shanmugaratnam, T., 421 Shannon, P.D., 136 Shardlow, S., 181 Sheard, C., 355 Shelton, W., 101 Shi, X., 77, 78 Shilony, T., 260, 454 Shortland, S., 406
S Sabbe, E., 195 Sabonis-Chafee, B., 135 Sachs, J., 491 Sack, J., 196 Sackett, D.L., 139 Saltiel, D., 173
Shulman, J.H., 410 Shulman, L.S., 8, 67, 80, 89, 195, 373, 474, 476, 490, 495, 498, 512, 520, 576, 577 Shumway, J.M., 362, 365 Siedel, S., 177, 181 Sillman, K., 405
588
Author Index Silver, E., 477 Silverman, W.A., 108, 114 Simon, E.L., 5 Simon, K.G., 50 Simon, R.I., 218 Sinnott, J.D., 224 Sirotnik, K., 74 Slater, D.Y., 153 Smith, A.A., 159, 170 Smith, A.J., 357 Smith, D., 3, 70, 193, 241, 369, 410 Smith, K., 193 Smith, P.G., 80, 399 Smith, R.D., 103, 112 Smyth, J., 68, 69, 74 Snadden, D., 353, 357, 363 Snyder, C.R., 536 Sobral, D., 365, 367 Sockett, H., 195 Somekh, B., 401 Sosin, A., 408 Sosteng, J.O., 88 Soto, L.D., 196 Southgate, L., 361 Sowder, J., 259 Speier, C., 417 Srivastva, S., 558 Stainer, A., 560 Stainer, L., 560 Stanulis, R.N., 405 Stark, P., 365 Starkey, K., 565 Starr, P., 101 Stattel, F.M., 134 Stefanakis, E., 198 Steffe, L.P., 260 Stenhouse, L., 275 Stern, D., 352 Sternberg, R.J., 229 Stevens, L.P., 193 Stew, G., 197, 403 Stigler, 493 Stiler, G. M., 193 Stone, H.F., 87 Stracher, C., 90 Strauss, S., 260, 454 Stringer, E., 275 Stritter, 117 Strivens, J., 6 Stuckey, R., 94 Sturgess, P., 406 Subramani, M., 417 Sugrue, C., 196, 497, 500 Sullivan, W.M., 5, 7, 89, 90 Sumson, J., 70 Surbeck, E., 369 Sutton, R.E., 531 Svensson, L., 561 Swarts, P., 68 Swick, H.M., 352 Sykes, G., 262 Syrjälä, L., 195
T t’Hart, P., 436 Tabachnick, B.R., 68 Takahashi, A., 259 Takayama, K., 406 Talbert, J., 72 Tann, S., 369, 416, 420 Tanriverdi, H., 417 Targgart, G.L., 416 Tate, P., 363 Tate, W.F., 37–39 Tatto, M.T., 69 Taylor, I., 175 Taylor, J.B., 113, 114 Taylor, P.G., 407 Taylor, R.B., 107, 119 Tell, C., 337 Tellez, K., 68 Teunissen, P.W., 370 Thatchenkery, T., 559 Theodosakis, J., 101, 103, 112 Thomas, M.L., 353, 363 Thompson, C.L., 259 Thompson, N., 176, 241, 245, 247 Thomson, A., 560 Thornton, A., 196 Thorpe, K., 277 Tickle, L., 80, 537 Tidwell, D., 341 Tigelaar, D., 371 Tillema, H., 193 Timothy, M., 402 Tirri, K., 197, 198 Tom, A., 193, 194 Torbert, W., 292 Townley, B., 565 Townsned, E.A., 139 Tremmel, R., 80 Trumball, D., 344 Tryssenaar, J., 361 Tse, H., 70 Tsuchida, I., 258 Tuijnman, A., 226 Turow, S., 85 U Uhlenbeck, A.M., 279 Ulmer, C., 402 Unsworth, C.A., 154 Upitis, R., 193 Usher, R., 178 V Valli, L., 3, 68, 70, 71, 77, 340 Van Der Kamp, M., 226 Van Mannen, M., 3, 68, 77–79, 192, 195, 369, 416, 557 Van Veen, K., 531 Van Woerkom, M., 529 Vanstone, M., 238, 241
Author Index Vasalos, A., 80, 529–549 Vavrus, M., 71 Veleba, K., 193 Verkuyl, H., 337, 343 Verloop, N., 195 Vermunt, J. D., 195 Villegas, A.M., 74, 319 Villegas-Reimers, E., 72 Vygotsky, 421 W Wade, R.C., 354, 495 Wagner, T., 269 Walker, D., 71, 365 Walker, J.E., 7 Walker, R., 334 Walkington, J., 80 Wallace, D., 159, 170 Wallace, J., 407 Walsh, D., 195, 198 Walsh, K., 75 Walters, J., 198 Wang, Q., 76 Wang, Z., 77 Wang-Iverson, P., 258 Ward, J.R., 70, 572 Wasko, M.M., 417 Wasser, J.D., 197 Watzlawick, P., 532 Wear, D., 371 Weatherall, D.J., 119 Webb, C., 354, 355, 364 Wegner, J.W., 89 Weiler, K., 37, 42 Weinbaum, A., 195, 299, 300, 303 Weiner, L., 74 Weinstein, I., 92 Weinstock, M., 26 Weis, L., 50 Welch, D.D., 92 Wells, G., 496 Wenger, E., 154, 491, 496, 563 Westbury, I., 80, 190 Westmoreland, S., 194 Wharton, S., 401 Wheatley, K.F., 531 Whipp, J., 193 White, B., 419 White, H., 281 White, J.B., 91, 153 White, S., 403 Whitehead, J., 192, 337, 346
589 Whiteley, S., 108 Wideen, M., 497, 500 Wiggins, G., 495, 502 Wikström, E., 560 Wilcock, A.A., 139 Williams, R., 221, 224 Williams, S.W., 408 Williams, W.C., 121 Willis, G., 419 Wilson, A.P., 416 Wilson, J., 406 Wilson, S.M., 195, 495 Winant, H., 38 Winsor, P.J.T., 193 Winter, R., 174, 241, 252, 363 Winters, L., 365 Wiskerm, G., 356 Witherell, C. Wolff, A.M., 360, 361 Woodson, C.G., 39 Woolfolk, A.E., 534 Wray, S., 3, 8, 194, 495 Wubbels, T., 192, 533 Wynia, M.K., 352 X Xiong, C., 76–78 Y Yarbrough, D.B., 354, 495 Yates, 479 Yendol-Silva, D., 416 Yerxa, E., 135–137 Yinon, H., 80, 193 Yip, K., 183, 184 Yorks, L., 18 Yoshida, M., 258 Yu, L., 76 Z Zeichner, K.M., 3, 8, 67–80, 193, 194, 205, 275, 334, 346, 369, 416, 491, 492, 495, 511, 573 Zembylas, M., 195, 492, 497 Zemke, R., 131 Zeuli, J.S., 259 Zigler, T.A., 405, 406 Zumwalt, K., 320 Zwart, R., 197 Zyngier, D., 197
Subject Index
A Accountability movement, Spellings, M., 6 Action research Dewey’s and Schön’s work, 399 problem conceptualization, 400 reflection as collaborative process, 400–401 framing and reframing, 400 role and importance, collaboration, 407–409 Adult learning process adult educational exemplars leadership, Myles Horton, 231 Mandela’s practice and personal analysis, critical reflection, 234–235 Vietnam war, 231 assumptions and perspectives discrepancy, 224 contextualized adult life, 225 critical reflection experience community, 229–231 cultural suicide and self-discovery, 227–228 dualism and multiplism, 229 impostorship, 226–227 loss of innocence, 229 roadrunning, transformative learning, 228–229 dialectical thinking, 225 epistemic cognition, 226 liberatory educator model, 225 mechanics, reflective practice, 217 Adult mental complexity, epistemology organizational life aspects, 435 self-authoring mind, 437, 439 self-transforming mind, 437–438 socialized mind, 436–437 Aesthetic inquiry, 115 African National Congress (ANC) African communists, 233 apartheid government, 233–234 democratic South African election, 235 Long Walk to Freedom, 234 Mandela’s personal analysis, 234–235 Marxist analysis, 232 nonviolent passive resistance, 233 Youth League, 232
ALACT model anticipation, 538 description, 531 improvement, 534 Judith’s case, 532 learning phases, portfolio, 366 nine fields, 532–533 traditional conceptualization drawbacks, 533–534 American Educational Research Association (AERA), 8, 521 American occupational therapy association (AOTA) centennial vision, 153 future vision, 575 Standards for Continuing Competence, 143 Assessment guidelines and evaluation, portfolios advantage, 362 quantitative or qualitative approaches, 363–364 summative, 363 Assessment and case study, Matson school bluff art, 266–267 clinical interview themes, 265 debriefing session and discourse patterns, 268 demographics, 263–265 intended vs. implemented curriculum, 267 Japanese teachers’ recognition, 268–269 misconceptions, 265–266 performance vs. learning, 266 Assessment challenges mistakes and academic assessment, 185 Rai’s findings, 184–185 students/workers’ exploitation, 184 subjectivity, 183 Yip, K., 183–184 Assessment for learning (AfL), 502 Awareness-raising questions (ARQs), 118 B Berwick, D., commission errors, 109 Bok, D., 6 Business schools, Bennis, W., 5 591
592
Subject Index C Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching, 7 Case method common law study, 87 Langdell’s legal education, 98 Centre for Research for Teacher Education and Development (CRTED), 386 Child Study/Lesson Study (CS/LS) basic cycle debriefing session and activities, 263 research lessons, 262 scripted and videotaped lesson plans, 263 case study, Matson school bluff art, 266–267 clinical interview themes, 265 debriefing session and discourse patterns, 268 demographics, 263–265 intended vs. implemented curriculum, 267 Japanese teachers’ recognition, 268–269 misconceptions, 265–266 performance vs. learning, 266 clinical interview debriefing session, 262 growth points measurement, 260 informal theories and test hypotheses, 260 main features, 259–260 mathematical thinking and professional development, 261 research lesson per lesson study cycle, 262 research numeracy project (ERNP), 261 salient interview points, 260 cognitive approach, 259 implementation, 269–270 lesson study activities and purpose, 258–259 cognitive theory, clinical interview, 259 data collection focus, 258–259 educational innovation and groups, 258 professional development model and knowledge community, 258 major features inner intent, reform, 262 K-4 grades and Japanese lesson study, 261–262 vertical model, 262 mathematical thinking, 257 professional development, 257–258 score changes and professional development, 269 China’s teacher education Analects of Confucius, 75 concepts and practices critical reflection concept, 77 Lai, H., classroom teaching observations, 78 post-liberation period, 76 pre-and post-teaching relection, 76 self-perception improvement, 77 teaching methodology, Shi, X., 78 teaching practice and professional knowledge, 77
traditions, reflective practice, 77–78 van Manen’s reflectivity, 77 interaction, people and knowledge, 76 learning and reflection relationship, 76 Civic capacity agency definition and Dewey’s criteria, 50 community, definition, 50–51 self interaction, 50 Classical oratory, Hutson’s arguement, 25 Classroom-based inquiry collaboration classroom-based data, 325 framing and reframing process, 326 research process conversation, 326–328 inquiry methodology and equity issues Carrie’s study, 325 low skilled readers, 324 question framing process, 325 social justice issues, 324 inquiry research questions and explanations, 323 The Mills Scholars Project facilitators and project practice, 321 goals, 329–330 inquiry process steps and work meetings, 321–322 professional development, educators, 321 scholars and group facilitators’ role, 322 NAEP assessments, 319 research community creation group’s methodology, 322 Scholars Project and learning community, 322 shared commitments and inquiry, 323–324 speaking and listening methods intellectualisation and professionalism, 329 professional thinking, 328 question-and-answer conversations, 329 students’ understanding, 328 teachers ability and role, 320–321 urban schools, 320 Clinical decision-making process case report, RoA, 113–115 Harvard PrOACT model, 108 medical expertise, 105 metacognition, 105–106 Montgomery, K., 113 Clinical interview debriefing session, 262 growth points measurement, 260 informal theories and test hypotheses, 260 main features, 259–260 mathematical thinking and professional development, 261 research lesson per lesson study cycle, 262 research numeracy project (ERNP), 261 salient interview points, 260 Clinical legal movement analytical thought and rationality, 91 Carnegie Foundation research, 89–90 cognitive apprenticeship and educational experience, 92 experience-based education, 89
Subject Index extraction process, appellate cases, 92 holistic approach and practicing attorneys, 91 knowledge and performance, 92 law school classroom, 90 MacCrate Report, 88–89 problem solving and interpersonal skills, 90 professionals and decision-making, 91 role issues and reflective process, 89 stare decisis doctrine and pedagogy, 88 teaching/learning dyad, 93 Cognitive bias assumptions, 108–109 diagnosis fixation and commission bias, 109 dual process model, RbA, 104 heuristics, 109 human thinking strategy, 108 knowing in action (KIA), 104–105 metacognition, RiA, 105–106 Collaboration action research/inquiry Barnett and O’Mahoney’s concept, 401 sharing and discussing practice, 402 classsroom practice collaboration, reflection and inquiry link, 403 personal masterry development, Nissilä’s, 403–404 Professional Development School (PDS), 403 self-knowledge development, 402 teacher-researcher group, 403 Video Portfolio Project and NBPTS, 402 critical friends’ practices, 293 knowledge development, 409–410 practice settings, 405–407 promoting reflection asynchronous reflection group, 409 Lavie’s examination, 408 Passman’s argument, 407 social context’s influence, 409 test scores and knowledge, 286 Collaboration, teacher research. See also Classroom-based inquiry classroom-based data, 325 framing and reframing process, 326 research process conversation, 326–328 Communication systems single and double loop, 245–247 teamwork, reflective engagement, 248 Thompson’s study, 245 Conscious geometry adaptive practice, 492 Brian’s definition, 491–492 challenging behavior, 493 critical pedagogy, 494 identity work, 492 interpretative tools, 493 metaphor, 494 reflective process, 492 sociocultural framework, 494 teacher educator practice integrated structured approach, 512 professional identities, 511 reflective learning curriculum, 510 resources, marginal spaces, 511
593 teaching/learning task, 512 transformative agents, 511 teaching adjustments, 493 theory and practice, 492 Conscious life attitude identification, inquiry stance and education program, 42 knowing perspective, 41 Constructive-developmental theory Einstein’s view, 434 meaning-making in adulthood organizational life aspects, 435 self-authoring mind, 437, 439 self-transforming mind, 437–438 socialized mind, 436–437 psychology, 434 subject-object relationship adaptive challenges, 444–446 liberating reflections, 446–449 mental X-ray, 440–444 Core reflection ALACT model anticipation, 538 description, 531 improvement, 534 Judith’s case, 532 nine fields, 532–533 traditional conceptualization drawbacks, 533–534 characteristics directive and non-directive approach, 547 first-order change, 548 global perspectives, 549 personal and professional domain integration, 546 professional change, 546–547 second-order and third-order change, 548 emotion and motivation, 539 essential aspects and flow concept, 536 growth competence, 529 here-and-now process, 540, 541 ideal situation, 538–539 inner and external obstacles, 538 mindfulness, 541 negative feelings, 539, 542 onion model, 534–536 positive psychology, 536 practice and reflection, 530–531 professional development, 537 rational thinking, 538 supervision session, 542–545 tunnel thinking, 540 U-model, 540–541 Council of Chief State School Officers (CCSSO), 257 CRI report analysis critical phase client-nurse interaction and communication issues, 168 ethical issues, 168–169 health-care professionals, interpersonal relationship, 169 patient identity, 168
594
Subject Index CRI report analysis (cont.) descriptive phase categorization, 165–166 client-nurse interaction and communication issues, 168 ethical issues, 168–169 health-care professionals, interpersonal relationship, 169 patient’s identity, 168 reflective phase faculty’s role, 167 reflective statements analysis, 167–168 situation evaluation, 167 Crisis in Theological Education, West, C., 8 Critical interrogation critical inquiry development, 36–37 critical race theory and critical social theory, 38 Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed, 37 inquiry stance, Cochran-Smith, M., 36 No Child Left Behind (NCLB) law, 35 social justice perspective, 36 Critical race theory Dewey’s reflective thinking, 38 Ladson-Billings, G. and Tate, W. educational inequality analysis, 39 “Toward Critical Race Theory of Education,” 38 Critical reflection capitalism, 218 clinical practice and clinicians, 215 concept approaches and prospects, 224–226 context-free reflection, 219 critical theory core assumptions, 219 cultural critics, 221 democratic socialism, 219 dominant ideology, 219–220 ideologies, 220–221 ideology critique, 220 normalizing gaze, 221 “systemic” critical reflection, 220 distinct purposes contested nature, hegemony, 224 decision-making modes, 222 defining enemy and regrouping forces, 223 hegemonic assumptions, 222 institutional culture and client enpowerment, 223 power, human interactions, 221–222 power relationships, 221 vocation, 222–223 pragmatist constructivism, 218 pre-service training, 215 reflective pratice, mechanics assumptions, research, 216 assumptions and perspectives discrepancy, 217 Habermas’ lifeworld analysis and accuracy assessment, 217 systemic imperatives and personal commitment, 215 totalitarian leaders, 216
Critical reflective inquiry (CRI) application, nursing education evaluation, CRI program, 164 faculty preparation, 162–163 students semester preparation, 164 inquiry method ideas, 160 report analysis critical phase, 168–169 descriptive phase, 165–166 reflective phase, 167–168 self-corrective practice descriptive phase, 161 reflective and critical/phase, 161–162 self-education process, 160 Curriculum leaders management and leadership in schools (MLS) cohorts, 418 educational experiences, 416, 417 journals, regional visits and reports, 427–429 knowledge, 417 narrative texts, critical analysis, 420 principles and assumptions diploma of departmental management (DDM), 419 pragmatic constructivism, 418–419 profile, 421 professional learning, 415 5R reflective thinking framework, 417, 420 social and political contexts, 420–421 themes and dimensions definition, 422 learning wisdom, 426–427 self-learning, 422–423 student learning, 423–426 Curriculum maker, 274 D Description. See also Descriptive inquiry Carini, P. contextual information, 46 linguistic and logical manipulation, 47 definition, evidence and interpretation, 46 Descriptive inquiry descriptive feedback, 52–53 descriptive review Carini, P., 51 research work, 53–54 students’ strengths and weaknesses, 51 Hansen, D., 59–60 inquiry, 47 investigation and creativity, 60 methods and data sources, 52–53 reflection civic capacity, 50–51 communication and individual growth, 48 descriptive inquiry, 47–49 phases, 47–48 presence, definition, 49–50 self and democracy, 48 report agency, teachers, 55 attention and uni-dimensional mass, 55
Subject Index civic capacity development, 56 classroom noise level, 58 Dale, Bronwyn, 55 debate, thought and learning, 57 descriptive feedback, 59 feedback process, 56 “inner teacher,” Palmer, P., 56 learning and activities, 58 political feedback, 57–58 pre-judgement recognition, 55 standardized testing, 57 “stereotype activity,” 55 strong disposition, 55 teaching/learning enterprise, 57 Diploma of departmental management (DDM), 419 Double loop communication system, 245–247 E Education rounds case studies, 309–312 evolution participants, 305–306 purpose, 304–305 structures, 307–309 values and symbols, 306–307 investigative and analytical methods analytic processes, 302 Educational Testing Service with Project Zero, research, 301 interpreting research materials, 301 portfolios, 301–302 protocol and purpose, 302–303 isolation and reflective practice, 299–300 Project Zero, Rounds’ history medical rounds, 303–304 regional assessment network meeting, 304 purpose and values, educational practice, 300 reflective practice analogies, 311 philosophy, 311–312 reflective thinking, brief discussion, 299–300 “Rounds,” discussion, 303 school experiences, teachers’, 300 Epistemologies adult mental complexity Heifetz’s view, 438 organizational life aspect, 435 self-authoring mind, 437, 439 self-transforming mind, 437–438 socialized mind, 436–437 equilibrium, 445 Equity Carrie’s study, 325 low skilled readers, 324 question framing process, 325 social justice issues, 324 Ethical dimensions considerations awareness, 519 education rounds, 518 moral thinking, 520 observations, 518
595 perception, 517 sharing experience, 519 inquiry stance critical discourse, 523 economic illiteracy, 524 institutional pathologies, 522 political dimensions, 523 professional educators, 522 social justice, 523 research concerns, 520 human experimentation, 521 investigation, 520 practitioner inquiry, 521 self-study, 520 teacher’s portfolio, 522 F Fish, D., 115 Foundational issues, reflective inquiry Dewey’s attitudes, 39 Hutson, Lorna, 25–26 Perry, Bill contextual relativism and interpretive stances, 27 epistemological development, 28–29 “scheme” model, 27 Fractions ERNP, 261 grades, 264–265 intended vs. implemented curriculum, 267 performance vs. learning, 266 salient features, interview, 260 unit fractions, misconceptions, 265–266 Freire, Paulo critical reflection/critical consciousness, 16 criticism, 18 final years, 17 legacy, 18 Pedagogy of the Oppressed, 17 short life history, 16 H Handbook of Research on Teaching, 8 Hegemony assumptions, reflection, 216–217 concept and dominant ideologies, 220–221 Gramsci, A., 217 hegemonic assumptions, 222 Mandela’s personal analysis, 234–235 Newman’s concept, 223 vocation, 222–223 Williams’ alternative concept, 224 I Immunity-to-change process diagnostic reflections adaptive challenges, 444–446 mental X-ray, 440–444 liberating reflections
596
Subject Index Immunity-to-change process (cont.) biography and testing, 448 optimal conflict, 446 self-observations and continuum, 448 Individual tools Lent’s and Pipkin’s work, 21–22, 282 personal journals Abbie’s reflections and relationship, 278 Craig’s scaffolding, 277 language, reflective journalism, 276–277 Martin’s journal writing, 277 reflective self-discovery and solipsism, 276 personal portfolios Abbie’s journal entries, 278 Anna’s portfolio and mentors’ role, 279–280 Carter, Allene’s practice, 281 Deweyan sense and electronic portfolio making, 279 Hardy Academy’s school story, 280 Lyons’ portfolio definition and teacher theory making, 279 reflective writing autobiographical writing, 281–282 Lent’s and Pipkin’s work and scaffolding, 282 T.P.Yaeger Middle school, 282–283 Inquiry investigation and analysis analytic processes, 302–303 Educational Testing Service with Project Zero, research, 301–302 models and purposes, 302–303 portfolios and interpreting research materials, 301 “standards into practice” protocol, 302 Institutional Review Board, 521 Inter-rater reliability, portfolios, 363 Interstate New Teachers Assessment and Support Consortium (INTASC), 479 Irish probation service bureaucratisation, 239 business objectives, 251 care and control balance, 238 coherent identity, 252 Coulshed’s and Mullender’s statements, 252 Healy’s views, 251–252 Jones, C., 239 legislation support and supervision, 238 management and professionals conflict, 239 mission statement, 237 offender needs and public demands, 238 probation officers Fifth Discipline theory, Senge, P., 246–247 interdependency, organisation, 246 leadership and management, 245–246 ‘learning organisations,’ organisation changes, 245 research, Lipsky, M., 244–245 roles and responsibilities, 245 single and double loop communication systems, 245–246 street-level bureaucrats, 245
systems theory, 246 Thompson’s study, organisational analysis, 245 Probation Service, renaming and objectives, 238 reconfiguration, 251 redefining process, mission, 251 reflection bureaucratic and managerial culture, 247 communication technology, 248–249 community penalties, 250 decision-making and work practice, 248 face-to-face communication, 248–249 inter-agency co-operation, 249 language, criminal justice, 247–248 probation and criminal justice service relationship, 250 reconfigure, probation service, 249 staffs dissatisfaction, 250 reflective engagement bureaucratisation and demoralisation, 242 Gould, N., learning agenda, 243 managerial/administrative agenda, 243 reflection, definition, 243 Schön’s emphasis, organisational transformation, 244 supervision and reflection process, 244 regional study, core objective, 240 renaming, “Probation and Welfare Service,” 238 social workers and probation officers, 239 staff demoralisation, 252 technical and management approach, 238 themes and debates management and Welfare State reform, 241–242 managerialism and post modernity, 241 professional autonomy, 242 public sector professionals, 241 rationalism, modernity, 240 work pressures, probation personnel, 240 welfare principles, 238 J Journal writing, 361 K Kemmis, S., teacher reflection vs. social struggle, 73–74 Knowledge and knowing Belenky, Mary constructive view, 30 inquiry tool theories and interpersonal situations, 30 Perry, Bill contextual relativism and interpretive stances, 28 epistemological development, 29 “scheme” model, 27 Kolb’s experiential learning cycle, 117
Subject Index L Learning wisdom decision making, 426–427 professional practitioners, 419 Legal education American legal education Dane professorship, 87–88 law departments, 87 Socratic method, 88 clinical legal movement analytical thought and rationality, 91 Carnegie Foundation research, 89–90 cognitive apprenticeship and educational experience, 92 experience-based education, 89 extraction process, appellate cases, 92 holistic approach and practicing attorneys, 91 knowledge and performance, 92 law school classroom, 90 MacCrate Report, 88–89 problem solving and interpersonal skills, 90 professionals and decision-making, 91 role issues and reflective process, 89 stare decisis doctrine and pedagogy, 88 teaching/learning dyad, 93 profession and lawyer, 85 Prosser’s view, 86 reflective practice and reflective equilibrium, 86 reflective practitioner development Argyris’ suggestion, 93 self-directed learning skills, 94 Lesson study. See also Child Study/Lesson Study (CS/LS) activities and purposes, 258–259 cognitive theory, clinical interview, 259 data collection focusing, 258–259 educational innovation and groups, 258 professional development model and knowledge community, 258 Liberating reflections biography and testing, 448 optimal conflict, 446 self-observations and continuum, 448 Listening methods intellectualisation and professionalism, 329 professional thinking, 328 question-and-answer conversations, 329 skill development, 328 students’ understanding, 328 M Management and leadership in schools (MLS) educational experiences, 416, 417 knowledge, 417 multi-perspectives cohorts, 418 National Institute of Education (NIE), 418 profile, 421
597 regional visits and reports Koreans’ positive attitude, 429 teacher–leaders characteristics, 428 5R reflective thinking framework, 420 self learning, teachers’ personal beliefs, 422–423 social and political contexts, 420–421 students’ learning learning wisdom, decision making, 426–427 parental support, values education, 424 teachers’ attitude and beliefs, 423–424 teachers’ role, policies and reforms, 424–426 Martin’s reflective practice journal, 283 Medical education, doctors, 6 Medical portfolio process. See also Portfolio ALACT model, 366 Boud’s model, 373 competency, 372 constructivist, 369 Epstein’s concept, 373–374 instructions adequate learning experiences, 359–360 assessment guidelines and evaluation, 362–365 purpose and structure, 354–357 supportive learning environment, 357–359 Kolb’s model, 366 personal, scientific and clinical reasoning, 365–366 personal knowledge, 370 personal perspectives, 351–352 positivism, 368 pre-reflective reasoning, 372 professional training, 352–353 propositional knowledge, 370 quasi-reflective reasoning, 372 reflective learning model, 368 reflective reasoning, 372 reflexive dialogue, 373 Medical profession CANMEDS project, 101 case report blood glucose, 111 crisis resource management (CRM), 112 medical consultation, 112–113 neonatal intensive care unit (NICU), 110 “neo-Piagetian” theories, 111 resuscitation equipment and sick premature baby, 110 clinical reasoning, 107–108 metacognitive tool-kit, 106–107 modern medical expert, 101 non-reflective doctor, 102 patient-physician partnership, 113 professionalism, 124 reflective inquiry components, 103 evolution, medical education, 103 knowing in action (KIA), 104–105 reflection before action (RbA), 103–104 reflection in action (RiA), 105–106 scientific rationalism, 125 values and motivation, 102
598
Subject Index Medical profession, reflective inquiry learning environment, 115–116 modern medical curriculum assessment process, 123 interdisciplinary framework, 122–123 research, 123–124 student experience, 122 student selection, 123 pathway, medical education, 115 reflective learner experiential learning and learner development, 117 learning environment, 116 reflective teacher characteristics, 117–118 Gardner, Howard, 3 M’s, 119 humanities and art, 120 interrogation, ARQs, 118 MUSE project, 120–121 narrative based medicine (NBM), 119 teaching models, 118 Metacognitive tool-kit, 106–107 The Mills Scholars Project facilitators and project practice, 321 goals educators and professional developers’ role, 330 schools’ changing practice, 330 teacher’s knowledge development, 330 inquiry process steps and work meetings, 321 professional development, educators, 321 scholars and group facilitators’ role, 322 Modern medical curriculum assessment process, 123 interdisciplinary framework, 122–123 research, 123–124 student experience, 122 student selection, 123 systematic apprenticeship approach, 122 N Narrative inquiry concepts and terms, reflection, 387 development curriculum making, 393 resonant remembering, 392 three-dimensional space, 393–394 end game experience reconstruction, 395 instrumental and artistic endeavour, 394 problem resolution, 394 prospective endeavor, 395 subjuntivize experience, 395 method, refelective thinking experience, 388 situation, 389 perspective, reflective thinking metaphorical muddling, 392 tensions and overlaps, 391 unexpectedness, reflective thinking experiences, 389 inquiry process, 390
problematic situation, 389 uncertainty, 390 National Board for Professional Teaching Standards, 574 National Council for the Accreditation of Teacher Education (NCATE), 479 National Institute of Education (NIE), 418, 420 National Mathematics Advisory Panel’s (NMAP), 259 National Research Council (NRC), 479 No Child Left Behind (NCLB), 478 Nursing education core teaching practice, 160 critical reflective inquiry (CRI), 159 implications and discussion clinical education, 170 CRI analysis findings, 171 CRI reflective competency determination, 169 faculty role, CRI, 170 identified catagories, 169 reflective practice teaching, 171 Smith’s study report, 170 on-line, real time process, 159 O Occupational therapy beneficence, professional ethics, 132 definition, 131 evidence-based practice (EBP), 140 foundation, progressive era innovation, 131 meaning-centered process, 132 Pinel’s moral treatment, 131 professional reasoning, 132 profession’s educational standards, 132–133 reflective inquiry, formalization Accreditation Council for Occupational Therapy Education (ACOTE), 141 AOTA documentation, 140 assignments, educational strategies, 144–151 ethics, code, 141 scaffolding and guided inquiry, 142 reflective practice AOTA centennial vision, 153 AOTA standards, 143 assessment, 152 continuing competence standard, 142 Dewey’s view, 133 institutional constraints, 153 moral treatment movement, 133 pathfinder, 134 scientific development and humanist perspectives, 133 social advocacy, 134 social movement, 133 specialty credentials, 143–144 study methodology, 154 therapeutic value, 133 world war and education programs, 134 RoA and RiA, therapeutic plan, 132 scientific perspective, wholism
Subject Index annual lectureship, 134 Brunyate’s description, 135 empirical method, 134 intervention approaches, 135 Reilly’s statement, 136 specialized neuromuscular techniques, 135 “The Derailment of Occupational Therapy,” 136 values and beliefs, 132 Optimal conflict, 446 P Participatory and appreciative action and reflection (PAAR) achievement appreciative intelligence, 564 radical humanism, 563 characteristics, 559 judgement standards, 566 practical wisdom coherent integration, 563 transactional trust, 562–563 process, 561 reframing process, 562 Pedagogy Baby Hope video analysis attention and challenge, 457 interchange and instructor’s role, 458 one-to-one correspondence, 457 opinions, 458 requirements and scaffold, 457 traditional lecture, 456 viewing, 456–457 cinema verité approach, 459 The Development of Mathematical Thinking, 456 generalizations and interpretations, 460 manipulatives and observation, 459 quality, 458 student’s reasoning, 460 Video Interactions for Teaching and Learning (VITAL) claims, 464, 467 discussion, 470 evidence, 464, 467–468 mathematics, 463 modest statements, 465, 469 multimedia essay, 462, 466 references, 465–466, 470 reflective thinking, 463–464 relational statements, 464–465, 468–469 syllabus, 461–462 videotaped interviews, 462 video viewer, 462, 466 Pedagogy principles, Hutson, L., 25 Portfolio adequate learning experiences critical incident technique, 360 events and Moon’s levels, 359 visual and audio methods, 361–362 writing process, 360–361
599 ALACT model, 366 assessment guidelines and evaluation advantages, 362 quantitative or qualitative approaches, 363–364 summative, 363 Boud’s model, 373 competency, 372 constructivist, 369 definition, 353–354 essential aspects, 366 Kolb’s model, 366 mindfulness, levels, 373 personal, scientific and clinical reasoning, 365–366 personal knowledge, 370 personal perspectives, 351–352 positivism, 368 pre-reflective reasoning, 372 professional medical training, 3–4 propositional knowledge, 370 purpose and structure electronic format, 356 outcome-based, 355 personal investment and web-based presentation, 356 work-based, 355 quasi-reflective reasoning, 372 reflective learning model, 368 reflective reasoning, 372 reflexive dialogue, 373 supportive learning environment, 357–359 Portfolio assessment certification discipline-based standards, 475 NBPTS, 474 teacher-student achievement, 475 Dewey’s foundational view attitudes, 484 goal, 485 reflective thought, 483 responsibility, 484 scaffolding reflective entries, 484–485 evidence interpretive conceptual model, 486 performance assessment, 487 historical perspective assessment center activity, 474 NBPTS, 475 teaching and teaching practice, 474 interpretive approach coherent interpretation, 482 socio-cultural theory, 483 validity theory, 482 learning outcomes critical reflection, 486 portfolio makers, 485 self-report data, 486 NBPTS validity report advanced level certification, 480 assessment exercises, 481 content standard certification, 480 technical characteristics, 481 purposes IQ testing, 478
600
Subject Index Portfolio assessment (cont.) selection, 477 report recommendation, 481 scaffold reflection, 483 tasks candidate’s experience, 476–477 support system, 477 teaching and learning experience, 476 validity assessment types educational assessment, 479 psychometric approach, 479 Portfolios personal portfolios Abbie’s journal entries, 278 Anna’s portfolio and mentors’ role, 279–280 Carter’s practice, 281 Deweyan sense and electronic portfolio making, 279 Hardy Academy’s school story, 280 Lyons’ portfolio definition and teacher theory making, 279 school cross-campus and cross-district group, 284 individual teachers benefits, 285–286 school contexts, influence, 288–289 teacher groups, benefits, 286–288 Positivism, 368 Presence definition, Raider-Roth, M., 49 interpretation and judgment, 50 perception and mere recognitions, 49 Probation officers Fifth Discipline theory, Senge, P., 246–247 interdependency, organisation, 246 leadership and management, 245–246 ‘learning organisations,’ organisation changes, 245 research, Lipsky, M., 244–245 roles and responsibilities, 245 single and double loop communication systems, 245–246 street-level bureaucrats, 245 systems theory, 246 Thompson’s study, organisational analysis, 245 Professional conversation, 364 Professional development ALACT model anticipation, 538 description, 531 improvement, 534 Judith’s case, 532 nine fields, 532–533 traditional conceptualization drawbacks, 533–534 characteristics directive and non-directive approach, 547 first-order change, 548 global perspectives, 549 personal and professional domain integration, 546 professional change, 546–547 second-order and third-order change, 548 emotion and motivation, 539
essential aspects and flow concept, 536 growth competence, 529 here-and-now process, 540, 541 ideal situation, 538–539 inner and external obstacles, 538 The Mills Scholars Project, 321–322 mindfulness, 541 negative feelings, 539, 542 onion model, 534–536 positive psychology, 536 practice and reflection, 530–531 rational thinking, 538 research and problem solving, 324 sharing questions, 323 supervision session, 542–545 tunnel thinking, 540 U-model, 540–541 Professional education ethical dimensions, 573 practice investigation, 573 teacher inquiry, 573 value-added research, 573 teaching experiences, 574 teaching reflection field experiences, 572 reflection-on-action, 573 self-study, 572 therapeutic plan, 573 valid policy dealing inherent contradictions, 575 reflective accounts, 574 reflective capacities, 575 social work literature, 574 vision, 575 Professional knowledge personal, 370 propositional, 370 Professional learning contemporary claimants, reflective practice, 6 future aspects definitions and research projects, 19–20 ethical issues and perspectives, 20–21 interpretation, template, 19 professional education Daedalus journal and post-war economy, 4–5 medical education model, Flexner, A., 4 purposes, scholarship and data, 3–4 skepticism, 5 teacher education reconsideration, Dewey, J., 9 Rodgers, Carol, 8–9 Zeichner, Ken, 8 theoretical perspective Dewey, J., 10–13 Freire, Paulo, 16–18 Schon, Donald, 13–16 Professionals purposes, scholarship and data, 3–4 Rodgers’ definition, reflection, 8 transformative practice, 3 Prospective teachers application, 455
Subject Index interpretation, 454 investigation, 454–455 observation, 453–454 Psychometric approach INTASC, 479 unified conception, 479 Public service. See also Irish probation service probation officers Fifth Discipline theory, Senge, P., 246–247 interdependency, organisation, 246 leadership and management, 245–246 ‘learning organisations,’ changes, 245 research, Lipsky, M., 244–245 roles and responsibilities, 245 single and double loop communication systems, 245–246 street-level bureaucrats, 245 systems theory, 246 Thompson’s study, organisational analysis, 245 themes and debates management and Welfare State reform, 241–242 managerialism and post modernity, 241 professional autonomy, 242 public sector professionals, 241 rationalism, modernity, 240 work pressures, probation personnel, 240 Q Quantitative approach, portfolios inter-rater reliability, 363 professional conversation, 364 R Reflection narrative exemplars, 273 reflective practice definition, 276 reflective practitioner, 275 school portfolio group, 273 Reflection in action (RiA) clinical decision making, 105–106 medical expertise, 105 metacognition, 106 Reflection on action (RoA) case illustration, 113–114 decision making, 114 physician appraisal and professional knowledge, 115 Reflective action appreciative action attitude, 565 ethical courage, 564 conversation conduct code, 556 improvisation, 555 socio-cultural structures, 556 work environment, 555 deficit trap feedback process, 554 individuals ability, 555 observation, 554
601 social relationships, 555 systematic inquiry, 554 ensemble-in-practice achievement, 563–564 appreciation, 561–562 practical wisdom, 562–563 reframing, 562 ensemble working ethical relational practices, 560 meta-analysis, 559 PAAR, 560 personal observations, 559 epistemological judgement, 566 framing conversational dualism, 557 Cooperrider’s suggestion, 558 deficiency, 557 deficit-based conversations, 556 democratic listening, 558 relationship fragmentation, 557 team work, 558 vocabularies, 556 workplace cultures, 557 projection and review, 553 Reflective engagement constructivist view, knowledge, 186 learning communities support, 187 organisational contexts, 186 statutory social work, 185 structural aspects, organisations, 186 Reflective practice. See also Irish probation service; Occupational therapy analogies, 311 critical issues detractor, 525 faculty members, 524–525 teaching philosophy, 524 Dewey’s philosophy experience, 383–384 diagnostic reflections adaptive challenges, 444–446 mental X-ray, 440–444 end game, 394–395 narrative trends, 396 overlaps and tensions, 395–396 ethical dimensions considerations, 518–520 inquiry stance, 522–524 judgment, 518 moral perception, 517 research, 520–522 Horner, N., 177 inquiry documenting evidence, 387 method, 388–389 perspective, 391–392 situation, 388 unexpectedness, 389–390 learning sciences, 491 liberating reflections biography and testing, 448 optimal conflict, 446 self-observations and continuum, 448
602
Subject Index Reflective practice. See also Irish probation service; Occupational therapy (cont.) managerialism, 174 meaning-making system, adulthood organizational life aspects, 435 self-authoring mind, 437, 439 self-transforming mind, 437–438 socialized mind, 436–437 methods, 499 narrative inquiry cognitive dissonance, 386 overlaps and tensions, 385 pedagogical interventions, 490 personal teaching practices, 572 philosophy, Rounds model, 311–312 portfolio production, 490, 499 professional education ethical dimensions, 573 learning, cultural and social, 574 practice, 573 principles, 577 teaching reflection, 572–573 valid policy dealing, 574–575 protocols classroom artifacts, 505 consultation, 507 emotional impact, 506 information synthesizing, 507 insider perspectives, 505 interpretive frameworks, 504 language communities, 504–505 learner identity, 508 practice innovation, 509 presentation protocol, 505 public inquiry, 508 reflective logs, 510 teaching methods, 507 textbook teaching, 508 value, 507 reflection bureaucratic and managerial culture, 247 communication technology, 248–249 community penalties, 250 decision-making and work practice, 248 face-to-face communication, 248–249 inter-agency co-operation, 249 language, criminal justice, 247–248 probation and criminal justice service relationship, 250 reconfigure, probation service, 249 staffs dissatisfaction, 250 reflection-in-action, 572 reflective engagement bureaucratisation and demoralisation, 242 Gould, N., learning agenda, 243 managerial/administrative agenda, 243 reflection, definition, 243 Schön’s emphasis, organisational transformation, 244 supervision and reflection process, 244 reflective practice signposts, 181 scholarly activity, 490
social work education, 174 systematic re-consideration, 571 teacher education, 490 complexity, 503–504 enactment, 501–503 misconceptions, 500–501 teaching context radical restructuring, 498 reflective practitioners, 499 transmission model, 498 tutorial, 499 theoretical framework dialogical relationships, 497 effective learning, 494 hermeneutics, 496 knowledge acquisition, 495 knowledge based societies, 497 pedagogical scaffolds, 495 signature pedagogy, 498 sociocultural frame, 496 teacher education practices, 495 theoretical knowledge, 496 thinking Dewey’s concept, 384 learning conception, 385 narrative framing, 388 vision self awareness, 575–576 signature pedagogy, 576 Reflective practice, origins Dewey, John, 189–190 Schön, Donald, 191–192 Schwab, Joseph, 190–191 Stenhouse, Lawrence, 190 Reflective practice, professions accountability movement, Spellings, M., 6 American seminaries and divinity schools, 8 Carnegie report, legal education, 7 college education, Bok, D., 6 misdiagnoses and medical education, doctors, 6 Reflective practice, uses The Carnegie Foundation findings, 98–99 co-curricular opportunities, 94 contemplative practices, 97 Franklin Pierce Law Center, 95 interview analysis, 96 peer discussion groups, 94 program’s capstone course and sidebar retreats, 95 Southern Methodist University Law School, 96 University of San Francisco Law School, 97 Reflective practice signposts, 181 Reflective teacher classroom characteristics, 71 conceptual frameworks and political consequences, 73 standardized test scores, 70 state program approval and national accreditation, 75 teacher development and technical rationality approach, 71 teachers’ capacity and students’ education, 71
Subject Index Reflective teacher education bureaucratic ventriloquism, 75 concepts and practices, China critical reflection concept, 77 Lai, H., classroom teaching observations, 78 post-liberation period, 76 pre-and post-teaching relection, 76 self-perception improvement, 77 teaching methodology, Shi, X., 78 teaching practice and professional knowledge, 77 traditions, reflective practice, 77–78 van Manen’s reflectivity, 77 education programs and public schools, 74–75 political and economic background, 74 social justice, goal, 75 Richert and Bove. See Classroom-based inquiry 5R reflective thinking framework, 417, 420, 422 S Scaffolding reflective learning Dewey’s work, reflective engagement, 177 learning community development reflective feedback and action–reflection inquiry, 178 Seidel, Steve, 177–178 staff teaching portfolios construction, 178 self-reflection forum course selection procedures, 178–179 field based learning, 179 Scaffold reflective practice individual tools personal journals, 276–279 personal portfolios, 279–281 reflective writing, 281–283 shared tools collaborative presentation, 289–291 school portfolios, 284–289 traveling journals, 283–284 teacher groups critical friends group (CFG), 293–294 inquiry group, 291–292 Scholarship reconsidered, Boyer, E., 15 Schon, D. competent professionals, 14–15 legacy, 15–16 practical competence and professional artistry, 13–14 re-evaluation, Dewey’s theory and practitioners, 14 School leaders’ development, 423. See also Curriculum leaders School reform complexity and reform efforts, 196 teaching children, 198 Self-authoring mind, epistemology, 437, 439 Self learning, curriculum leaders, 422–423 Self-study reflection, characterization, 333–334 teacher educators community of memory, 345
603 critical elements, 335 foundational similarities, literature, 335–337 interactivity, texts and colleagues, 342–343 meta-questions, 344–345 methodology, 335 mutual benefits, 346–347 research, literature, 337–339 self-transformation, 343–344 students role model, 340–341 Tidwell’s balancing act, 341–342 Self-transforming mind, epistemology, 437–438 Shared tools collaborative presentation “Journey to Oz,” 290 Lyons’ presentation, 289 presentation, school portfolio group, 290 reflective writing, 289–290 subject matter commonplace, 289 three-dimensional inquiry space, 291 school cross-campus and cross-district group, 284 individual teachers benefits, 285–286 school contexts, influence, 288–289 teacher groups, benefits, 286–288 traveling journals Craig’s description, 283–284 special needs, students, 283 teacher knowledge community, 284 Silent No More: Voices of Courage in America’s Schools, 282 Socialized mind, epistemology, 436–437 Social work education assessment, reflective teaching and learning mistakes and academic assessment, 185 Rai’s findings, 184–185 students/workers’ exploitation, 184 subjectivity, 183 Yip, K., 183–184 professionalism and bureaucratisation, 174 reflection and history evidence-based practice, 175 managerialist culture, 174 reflective practitioners, 176–177 reflective inquiry tools portfolio building, 179–181 professional formation exercise, 181 publicity, portfolio entries, 182–183 reflective journals, 182 Saltiel, D., 173 scaffolding reflective learning learning community development, 177–178 self-reflection forum, 178–179 social workers, 173 supports and obstacles, reflective engagement constructivist view, knowledge, 186 learning communities support, 187 reflective supervision, 186 statutory social work, 185 structural aspects, organisations, 186 Socratic dialogue The Carnegie Foundation findings, 98–99 Langdell’s decanal reforms, 88
604
Subject Index Street-level bureaucrats. See Probation officers Students’ learning, curriculum leaders parental support, 424 teachers’ attitude and beliefs, 423–424 teachers’ role, policies and reforms, 424–426 Subject-object relationship diagnostic reflections adaptive challenges, 444–446 mental X-ray, 440–444 liberating reflections biography and testing, 448 optimal conflict, 446 self-observations and continuum, 448 mental complexity self-authoring mind, 437, 439 self-transforming mind, 437–438 socialized mind, 436–437 Summative assessment, 363 Systematic apprenticeship approach, 122 T Teacher education complexity feedback strategies, 504 pedagogical dilemmas, 503 scaffold students reflections, 504 teaching dilemmas, 503 educational rules and guidelines, 79 enactment communication, 502 curriculum designer, 503 theoretical knowledge, 501 misconceptions, 500–501 policy and research, 194 rational approach, 80 reflective practice balance and dialectical relationship, 71 educational reform and reflection, 69 empirical studies, classroom, 71 genuine teacher development themes, 72 goals and commitments, teachers, 69 individual teacher reflection, 72 issues, 70 Jackson’s description, classroom characteristics, 71–72 “knowledge-in-action.”, 69 practical theories, teachers, 70 prospective teachers and school reform, 72 roles, educational reform, 70 school-wide decisions, 71 system-wide approach, 72 “teacher burnout,” 72 teachers’ classroom work and educating capacity, 71 teaching strategies and materials, 70 technical rationality, 71 themes, teacher development, 72 The reflective practitioner, Schon, D., 68–69 reflective teaching concept, UW-Madison teacher educators, 68 scaffolding and cultivation, 193–194 Smyth, J., conceptual colonization, 69
teacher educators, 68 teachers and teacher educators, 79 trends models, student teacher supervision, 79–80 skepticism and stage theories, 80 UW-Madison educators and reflective teaching concept, 68 Zeichner, Ken moral and ethical aspects, 68 neo-liberal and neo-conservative reformers, 67–68 standardized test scores, 67 student’s and teachers research, 67–68 Teacher educator self-study community of memory, 345 critical elements, 335 interactivity, texts and colleagues, 342–343 literature, consistencies content, 339 knowledge theory and learning theory, 336 means for, 339 purpose, 338 self-conducted inquiry, 337 teaching, 336 meta-questions, 344–345 methodology, 335 mutual benefits, 346–347 reflection, characterization, 333–334 self-transformation, 343–344 students role model Dinkelman’s view, 340 Freese’s theories and concepts, 340–341 LaBoskey’s suggestion, 340 Tidwell’s balancing act, 341–342 Teacher groups critical friends group (CFG) Connections, on-line journal, 293 consensus collusion, 292 Kroath’s work and Leadership Group members, 293 teacher leadership, 293 inquiry group Arthur’s artificial experiences, 291–292 blind experiment, 292 high stakes accountability and individual practices, 291 reflective practice, 291 Teacher inquiry constraints and opportunities, 294 images, educational enterprise curriculum maker, 274 definition, reflective practice, 276 reflective practitioner, 275 teacher research, 274–275 scaffold reflective practice collaborative presentations, 289–291 critical friends group (CFG), 293–294 personal journal, 276–279 personal portfolios, 279–281 reflective writing, 281–283 school portfolios, 284–289 teacher inquiry group, 291–292 traveling journals, 283–284
Subject Index Teacher leadership The Mills Scholars Project, 321–322 shared leadership forum, 322 Teacher professional development collaboration, conversation and community, 197 collaborative assessment conference protocol, 305 development program, 68 education, reflective practice, 192–193 efforts and improvement plans, 302 experiences, 199–205 issues and future research career teachers, 206 codified reflective practice, 205 Schwab’s remark, 206 Wilson’s experience, 205 literature sampling curriculum and teaching, 196 identities, voices and emotions, 195–196 professional development, 196–197 teaching nature, 195 long-term professional development, 301, 305 origins, reflective practice Dewey, John, 189–190 Schön, Donald, 191–192 Schwab, Joseph, 190–191 Stenhouse, Lawrence, 190 reflective teaching, China, 76–78 teacher education literature sampling education programs, 194 scaffolding and cultivation, 193–194 teacher education policy and research, 194 teacher research and representing teachers race, culture, and human difference, 198 research studies, 197 teaching children, 198 Teacher reflection, social justice anthropological perspectives, 74 decision making and political aspects, 73 potential contribution, 74–75 socio-cultural and racial consciousness, 74 teaching actions, consequences, 73 Teacher training, experiences phase four, 202–205 phase one, 199–200 phase three, 201–202 phase two, 200–201 Teaching and learning culture development, 35 inquiry, definition, 31 Kuhn, Deanna, 31–32 learning scaffolds, 34–35 portfolio, scaffolding role, 34–35 practical issues and technical knowledge, 34 practitioner research, 33 practitioners views, inquiry, 32–33 research-practice relationship, 33 skill development, inquiry, 31–32 Theatre of the Oppressed, 344 The Development of Mathematical Thinking, 456 The German Didaktik, 190 The Invention of Suspicion, Hutson, L., 42–43 The Miseducation of the Negro, Woodson, C.G, 38 Theoretical perspectives
605 Dewey, John, How We Think American educational theory, 10–11 aspects, reflective thought, 12 attitudes and personal disposition, 12–13 contributions, understanding and engaging, 12 critical tenets, 11 Dewey, Alice Chipman, 10 learning challenge, 11 legacy, 13 limits, reflective thought, 12 mind, attitude of and simplification, 10 Mitchell, Wesley Clair, 11 personal disposition and attitudes, 12–13 philosophy, definition and progressive educators, 10 Freire, Paulo critical reflection/critical consciousness, 16 criticism, 18 final years, 17 legacy, 18 Pedagogy of the Oppressed, 17 short life history, 16 Schon, D. competent professionals, 14–15 legacy, 15–16 practical competence and professional artistry, 13–14 re-evaluation, Dewey’s theory and practitioners, 14 “Think like a lawyer” Carnegie Foundation research, 89–90 Dane professorship, 87–88 Three-dimensional narrative inquiry space retrospective endeavor, 394 story re-telling, 393 Tyler’s curriculum rationale, 274 V Video Interactions for Teaching and Learning (VITAL) critical thinking claims and evidence, 464 modest statements, 465 references, 465–466 relational statements, 464–465 discussion, 470 mathematics, 463 multimedia essay, 462, 466 reflective thinking, 463–464 study results claims, 467 evidence, 467–468 modest statements, 469 references, 470 relational statements, 468–469 syllabus, 461–462 videotaped interviews, 462 video viewer, 462, 466 Videos. See also Video Interactions for Teaching and Learning (VITAL) Baby Hope analysis attention and challenge, 457
606
Subject Index Videos. See also Video Interactions for Teaching and Learning (VITAL) (cont.) interchange and instructor’s role, 458 one-to-one correspondence, 457 opinions, 458 requirements and scaffold, 457 traditional lecture, 456 viewing, 456–457 cinema verité approach, 459 The Development of Mathematical Thinking, 456 generalizations and interpretations, 460 manipulatives and observation, 459 quality, 458 student’s reasoning, 460 VITAL critical thinking, 464–466 discussion, 470 mathematics, 463 multimedia essay, 462, 466 reflective thinking, 463–464 study results, 467–470 syllabus, 461–462 videotaped interviews, 462 video viewer, 462, 466
W Wholism American occupational therapy association, 137 annual lectureship, 134 Brunyate’s description, 135 clinical reasoning study and cohesive theories, 137 cultural relativism, 139 empirical method, 134 government-sponsored systems, 139 intervention approaches, 135 Model of Human Occupation (MOHO), 136 reasoning aspects, 138 Reilly’s statement, 136 Rogers’ lecture, 136 social advocacy, 139 specialized neuromuscular techniques, 135 “The Derailment of Occupational Therapy,” 136 With Portfolio in Hand, Lyons, N., 279 Women’s Ways of Knowing, 30 Writing process, portfolios, 360–361
