Learning in School-University Partnership: Sociocultural Perspectives

Learning in School-University Partnership

“I heartily recommend this book to those interested in teacher professional development and to those interested in learning theory as well. It offers one of the clearest, most concise summaries of the foundational concepts of social learning theory and also shows how these concepts can be applied productively to illuminate complex learning processes.”—Etienne Wenger, Learning for a small planet This volume looks at school-university partnerships from sociocultural perspectives of learning that view participation in social practice as fundamental to the process of learning. Its two major themes—school-university partnership and sociocultural and social theories of learning—have both been treated extensively in the literature. It is the bringing together of these two themes that makes this book unique. In this examination of an evolving model of school-university partnership, the Unified Professional Development Project in Hong Kong, the authors analyze the learning that takes place as the participants (student teachers, mentor teachers, and university supervisors) mutually engage in the enterprise of improving teaching and learning in schools, developing shared practices, and creating new communities of practice. Although it describes one specific context, the book is not just about this locale. Rather, the Unified Professional Development Project is used as a context for theorizing more generally a social theory of learning for school-university partnerships that is relevant to any other similar context. This book will interest teacher educators, researchers in teacher education and teacher development, policy makers, and school practitioners who are involved in school-university partnerships. Amy B. M. Tsui, Gwyn Edwards, Fran Lopez-Real, Tammy Kwan, Doris Law, Philip Stimpson, Rosina Tang, and Albert Wong are participants in the Hong Kong Unified Professional Development Project.

Learning in School-University Partnership Sociocultural perspectives Amy B. M. Tsui Gwyn Edwards Fran Lopez-Real with Tammy Kwan Doris Law Philip Stimpson Rosina Tang Albert Wong The University of Hong Kong

First published 2009 by Routledge 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 Simultaneously published in the UK by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2008. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2009 Routledge, Taylor and Francis All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark Notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Tsui, Amy. Learning in school-university partnership : sociocultural perspectives / Amy B. M. Tsui, Gwyn Edwards, Fran Lopez-Real, with Tammy Kwan . . . [et al.]. p. cm. Includes index. 1. College-school cooperation. 2. Teachers—Training of. 3. English teachers—Training of. 4. Educational sociology. I. Edwards, Gwyn. II. Lopez-Real, Francis J. III. Kwan, Tammy. IV. Title. LB2331.53.T79 2008 378.1'03—dc22 2008011420 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A cata logue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN 0-203-89100-7 Master e-book ISBN ISBN 10: 0-8058-5316-2 (hbk) ISBN 10: 0-203-89100-7 (ebk) ISBN 13: 978- 0-8058-5316-2 (hbk) ISBN 13: 978- 0-203-89100-1 (ebk)

Contents

Preface Contributors

vii xi

PART I School-University Partnership and Theories of Learning

1

1 Contexts for Learning in School-University Partnership

3

Gwyn Edwards, Amy B. M. Tsui and Philip Stimpson

2 Sociocultural Perspectives of Learning

25

Amy B. M. Tsui, Fran Lopez-Real and Gwyn Edwards

PART II Cases of Learning in School-University Partnership

45

3 On Becoming a Member of a Community of Practice

47

Gwyn Edwards and Amy B. M. Tsui

4 Mentoring, Learning and Identity Formation

69

Tammy Kwan, Fran Lopez-Real and Amy B. M. Tsui

5 Tripartite Conferences: Positioning and Activity Systems

90

Fran Lopez-Real, Doris Law and Rosina Tang

6 Mutual Engagement and Boundary Crossing in Lesson Studies Doris Law and Amy B. M. Tsui

v

111

vi • Contents

7 Connecting Communities of Practice

132

Albert Wong and Gwyn Edwards

PART III Reflections

149

8 Sociocultural Theories of Learning Revisited

151

Amy B. M. Tsui

References

165

Author Index

175

Subject Index

180

Preface

In writing this book we are aware that the two major themes—namely, school-university partnership and sociocultural and social theories of learning—have both been treated extensively in the literature. Nevertheless, in our view, it is the bringing together of these two themes that makes this book unique. Much of the research on the first theme has focused on meanings and forms of partnership and the infrastructures that need to be in place for sustainability. Less work has been done on the opportunities for learning that are afforded by school-university partnership and how we make sense of the learning processes in a theoretically motivated fashion. By drawing on sociocultural and social theories of learning to examine cases of learning in a school-university partnership set up in Hong Kong, we highlight the centrality of learning brought about by school-university partnerships and we offer interpretations of aspects of learning theories that illuminate our understanding of how teachers learn. The book is divided into three parts. In Part I, two chapters are devoted to a discussion of the literature concerning the two aforementioned themes. In Chapter 1, we provide a broad historical overview of the development of school-university partnerships in different parts of the world, the changes that have taken place in the conceptualization of partnership and the research foci over time. This is followed by an outline of the school-university partnership established in 1996 between the University of Hong Kong and local secondary schools. The aims and goals of the partnership and how they evolved over time are detailed. In Chapter 2, we consider the major influential theories of learning in educational research. We discuss in detail activity theory, originating from vii

viii • Preface

Vygotskian perspectives of learning and later developed in the work of Engeström (1987), and the social theory of learning initially presented by Lave and Wenger (1991) and subsequently more fully expounded by Wenger (1998). We explain why we have taken these two important theoretical frameworks as the basis for our subsequent analyses of teacher learning in a number of case studies. At the end of this chapter, we outline a number of questions which will be addressed in Part II of the book. Part II of the book consists of five chapters which report on cases of teacher learning in the school-university partnership at the University of Hong Kong, drawing on data from studies conducted since the partnership’s inception. These chapters take as their focus the “players” involved in the partnership, and the interrelationships between players, with a view to understanding the forces and the processes that shape their learning. In Chapter 3, the focus is on the learning of student teachers and three cases are presented to explore the conception of learning as participation and identity formation. The complex nature of identity construction is also addressed in Chapter 4, with the attention turned to the mentors. Cases of mentors’ learning in different contexts are presented. In Chapter 5, we consider the perceptions of, and interactions between, student teachers, mentors and university tutors in tripartite conferences, the power relationship among them, the way they position themselves in this relationship and the learning so constituted. Chapters 6 and 7 focus on two elements that are, to a certain extent, distinctive of the school-university partnership at Hong Kong University, that is, the mutual engagement of university tutors and mentors in “lesson study” and in the Teacher Fellowship Scheme, respectively. Two cases of lesson study are presented in Chapter 6, drawing on the concept of learning that takes place at community boundaries. In Chapter 7, we focus on the Teacher Fellowship Scheme, an innovation introduced with funding support to enable teachers to spend a block of time to cross the boundaries of school communities and the university community. We explore the learning that is brought about by teachers as boundary brokers. The final chapter, which constitutes Part III, reflects on the application of sociocultural and social theories of learning to the understanding of the learning afforded by school-university partnership. We discuss the ways in which the learning that was brought about further enhanced our interpretation of these theories. We focus on four broad themes that we identify as being of particular significance: the “duality” of legitimate peripheral participation, learning as identity formation, the mediating role of power relations in learning and learning at community boundaries. This book will be of interest to educational researchers and scholars working in the areas of teacher education and school-university partner-

Preface • ix

ship. It will also be of value to practitioners involved in the development of teacher education within a school-university partnership framework such as mentors, university tutors and school principals, by providing them with an alternative perspective on the complex issues and processes involved. Members of organizations charged with responsibility for determining teacher education policy will also find this book highly relevant. The initial conceptualization to the final drafting of this book took a few years to complete. The book underwent a number of versions, the focus of the earlier version being quite different from what it is now. We would like to thank all those who contributed to the shaping of this book either directly or indirectly. John Furlong spent a week with the research team in the early conceptualization of the book in 2000 and the perceptive comments that he made at the time partly led to its reconceptualization. Michael Williams was a visiting consultant to the School-University Partnership Office and provided invaluable input on the earlier drafts of the chapters. Max van Mannen conducted workshops and Ference Marton guided lesson studies with Teacher Fellows. Lo Mun Ling, Jeffrey Day and Jocelyn Wong were part of the research team but had to withdraw from co-authoring the book either because they moved on to other institutions or because of their other commitments. Karen Ho meticulously attended to the stylistic details of the manuscript. We would like to thank all of them for their contribution without which this book would not have been written. We would also like to thank the two anonymous reviewers whose encouraging comments kept us going in the long, drawn-out process. Last but not least, we are indebted to Naomi Silverman, Senior Editor, and Erica Kica, Associate Editor, at formerly Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, now Routledge, and Mary Hillemeier at Routledge, for their prompt replies to our queries and their understanding, patience and unfailing support throughout. Amy B. M. Tsui Gwyn Edwards Fran Lopez-Real Hong Kong

Contributors

Gwyn Edwards, Associate Professor, Faculty of Education, the University of Hong Kong Tammy Kwan, Associate Professor, Faculty of Education, the University of Hong Kong Doris Law, Assistant Professor, Faculty of Education, the University of Hong Kong Fran Lopez-Real, Associate Professor, Faculty of Education, the University of Hong Kong Philip Stimpson, Senior Lecturer, Faculty of Education, the University of Hong Kong Rosina Tang, Teaching Consultant, Faculty of Education, the University of Hong Kong Amy B. M. Tsui, Chair Professor, Faculty of Education, the University of Hong Kong Albert Wong, Assistant Professor, Faculty of Education, the University of Hong Kong xi

PART

I

School-University Partnership and Theories of Learning

CHAPTER

1

Contexts for Learning in School-University Partnership GWYN EDWARDS, AMY B. M. TSUI AND PHILIP STIMPSON

Introduction The purpose of this chapter, together with the one that follows, is to establish the theoretical framework for this volume. We begin with an overview of the emergence of school-university partnership in the United States, the United Kingdom and Australia during the 1980s and 1990s. We chose these three countries primarily because collectively they have provided the major source of the research literature on school-university partnership. From the vast amount of literature available, we identify and illuminate a number of themes and issues that will be examined in greater depth in the remainder of the volume. The Emergence of School-University Partnership in the 1980s and 1990s Over the past two decades there has been a burgeoning interest worldwide in developing partnership between schools and universities as a means of enhancing the quality of initial teacher education. In the words of Goodlad (1994), “advocacy of school-university partnerships is de rigueur; not to have one or be part of one could be dangerous to your educational 3

4 • Gwyn Edwards, Amy B. M. Tsui and Philip Stimpson

health” (p. 103). Of course, there is a sense in which most teacher preparation programs have always involved some degree of partnership between schools and universities. As Bennie (1966) in the United States observed forty years ago, “the total student teaching experience is a cooperative venture[;] both the public schools and the teacher-preparation institutions have unique functions and responsibilities” (p. 19). At more or less the same time, the James Report in the United Kingdom noted approvingly that some teacher training institutions were drawing “serving teachers directly and formally into their work” (Department of Education and Science [DES], 1972, p. 38). Ten years later, a survey of initial teacher training in the United Kingdom, carried out by Her Majesty’s Inspectorate, revealed that strenuous efforts to develop partnerships were being made and, moreover, that “some of these initiatives were beginning to bear fruit” (Her Majesty’s Inspectorate, 1982, p. 144). Calls for school-university partnerships intensified in the 1980s and 1990s within the broader context of demands for the reform of the educational systems of major industrialized countries. These demands were prompted by a mood of uncertainty as nations grappled to come to terms with the challenges posed by a social, political and economic landscape that was undergoing unprecedented change. Improving the quality of education was considered essential to gaining a competitive edge in an increasingly globalized economic order. In the United States, for example, schools were deemed to be “moribund institutions . . . hopelessly out of sync with the realities of modern economic, social and political life” (Gerstner Jr., Semerad, Doyle, & Johnston, 1994, p. 22). There existed, it was claimed, “a new consensus on the urgency of making . . . schools once again the engines of progress, productivity and prosperity” (Carnegie Forum on Education and Economy, 1986, p. 2). In the United States, a major catalyst for debate on the effectiveness of the nation’s educational system was the publication of the National Commission on Excellence in Education report A Nation at Risk: The Imperative for Education National Reform (National Commission on Excellence in Education, 1983) in 1983. Somewhat apocalyptic in tone, the report warned that the education foundations of U.S. society were being “eroded by a rising tide of mediocrity” (p. 5). In response, the commission sought “to generate reform of our educational system in fundamental ways and to renew the Nation’s commitment to schools and colleges of high quality throughout the length and breadth of our land” (p. 6). Teacher preparation programs, in par ticu lar, were claimed to be in need of “substantial improvement” (p. 22). This claim was not without justification. On the basis of a five-year study of 29 representative initial teacher education programs across the United States, Goodlad (1990) concluded that the

Contexts for Learning in School-University Partnership • 5

programs ranged from what could be described only as “shabby to the near acceptable” (p. 262) in relation to what might be considered reasonable expectations. Mounting criticism of teacher preparation led to a number of initiatives, most notably the establishment of the Holmes Group in 1987, a consortium of education deans and chief academic officers from 96 major research universities across the United States who came together in the knowledge that their own schools and universities were “not doing well in education” (Holmes Group, 1986, p. 3). In a trilogy of reports, the Holmes Group (1986, 1990, 1995) advocated the establishment of Professional Development Schools, analogous to teaching hospitals in the medical profession. The Professional Development School (hereafter PDS) is conceived as a site where initial teacher education, professional development of teachers, improvement of teaching and learning and educational research are integrated. Curriculum, pedagogy, assessment and professional development are deemed to be inextricably interconnected, and attempts to change one part at a time will not be successful; coordinated changes in all of the various parts are needed. On the one hand, university-based schools of education must lend their support to public schools which are struggling to overcome outdated practices and policies by conducting sustained educational inquiry over time and applying research to teaching and learning in the classroom. On the other hand, in order that graduates of teacher education programs can sustain high standards of practice, student teachers (hereafter STs) must be placed with schools in which they can enjoy exceptional opportunities to learn and to demonstrate quality practice (see Holmes Group, 1995, p. 13). In supervising novice teachers and inducting new members, experienced teachers demonstrate their know-how and question their own assumptions and routines. By taking part in research and development projects, they contribute their experience and wisdom to the profession’s knowledge base. In other words, in PDSs, novice teachers learn to teach, university and school teaching staff investigate questions of teaching and learning together and school administrators and other professionals who work in schools collaborate with university staff to conduct inquiries into methods and structures for their schools. The focus is, therefore, not just on the improvement of the quality of teacher preparation provided by schools of education, although it is obviously one of the major concerns of PDSs. In England and Wales, school-university partnership was systematically phased in during the 1980s and 1990s as a mandatory requirement for all university-based initial teacher training courses. But, as noted earlier, partnership at this time was not new. Many universities were developing a closer working relationship with schools, and some had already

6 • Gwyn Edwards, Amy B. M. Tsui and Philip Stimpson

actively embraced the notion of partnership. Particularly noteworthy was the Initial Training-Inser vice Education (IT-INSET) Project, established in 1978 with three-year government funding and based initially at the Open University. Subsequently, it was developed on a national basis through the work of the Centre for Evaluation and Development in Teacher Education (CEDTE) at Leicester University with the support of continuing government funding. By 1987, IT-INSET had been adopted by 27 teacher training institutions working with 285 schools in 36 Local Education Authorities and involving 418 university tutors (hereafter UTs), 639 teachers and 2,018 STs (Ashton, Henderson, & Peacock, 1989). It operated on the basis of teams comprising one or two teachers, a UT and several STs working together regularly in the classroom evaluating and developing aspects of the curriculum (Ashton, Henderson, Merritt, & Mortimer, 1983). Also noteworthy at the time were the “school-based” teacher education programs that had been established by a number of universities, the most frequently cited being the Oxford University Intern Scheme. Notwithstanding the already growing trend toward partnership, government reforms in the 1980s and early 1990s brought about a fundamental and unprecedented redistribution of responsibilities for the training of teachers between schools and universities in England and Wales. The unequivocal intention of these reforms was to break the effective monopoly universities exercised in the initial training of teachers (Thatcher, 1993). In order to do so, the government introduced articled teachers and licensed teachers schemes with an expectation that half of new teachers would join the profession through “on the job” training, as opposed to a university-based teacher training route (ibid.). Furthermore, the government sought to shift the balance of power within university-based teacher training programs substantially in favor of schools. As John Patten, secretary of state for education at the time, explained, “we are ensuring that teacher training is precisely that—undertaken as much as possible in schools—and not wasted studying dated and irrelevant texts on theory” (Patten, 1993). Consistent with this policy, the government issued circulars in 1992 (Department for Education [DfE], 1992) and 1993 (DfE, 1993) which laid down mandatory requirements for university-based secondary and primary teacher training courses, respectively. With regard to the former, schools were to have “a leading responsibility for training students to teach their specialist subjects, to assess pupils and to manage classes; and for supervising students and assessing their competence in these respects” (DfE, 1992, p. 4). Thus, it was envisaged that henceforth teachers in secondary school would take on responsibilities which at the time were being carried out predominantly, if not exclusively, by UTs. Universities, meanwhile, were to have responsibility for “ensuring that courses meet the

Contexts for Learning in School-University Partnership • 7

requirements for academic validation, presenting courses for accreditation, awarding qualifications to successful students and arranging student placements in more than one school” (ibid.). Subsequently, however, there was a strategic blurring of this somewhat rigid division of labor. As the mandatory requirements now stand, all providers must work in partnership with schools and involve them actively in the planning and delivery of initial teacher training, selecting trainee teachers and assessing trainee teachers for qualified teacher status (Training and Development Agency for Schools, 2006). In Australia in the early 1990s the federal government briefly entertained the idea of transferring the major responsibility for teacher education from universities to schools (Chadbourne, 1995). However, unlike the government in the United Kingdom, it backed off from making school-university partnership a mandatory requirement. Even so, there has been strong endorsement for school-university partnership as a means of improving the quality of initial and continuing teacher education from both the government and the educational community (Chadbourne, 1995; Sealey, Robson, & Hutchins, 1997). For example, in New South Wales the Report of the Review of Teacher Education (Ramsey, 2000, p. 207) maintains that “teacher education and schools are insufficiently connected” and, in too many instances, “out of step; marching to a different drum.” Accordingly, it advocates that “universities, in cooperation with employers of teachers and the profession, develop models of initial teacher education which place professional experience at their core and require joint planning, delivery and reporting” (ibid., p. 39). Likewise in Queensland, the Board of Teacher Registration (2002) recommends (but does not require) that all aspects of professional experience programs—curriculum design, implementation, preparation of participants, assessment—should be developed through formally established partnerships between teacher education institutions and schools. Furthermore, these partnerships should “involve a parity of esteem for all partners and recognize their unique and complementary contributions to the processes and outcomes of a preservice program” (p. 18). Perhaps the most striking characteristic of teacher education in Australia is the evident diversity, not only across states and territories but also within them. Given the fairly high degree of autonomy of individual states and territories with respect to education, such diversity is hardly surprising. Even such “standard” elements of initial teacher training as the amount of practicum vary enormously. The minimum requirement in Victoria, Northern Territories, Western Australia and Tasmania is 45 days and in the Australian Capital Territory 30 days. New South Wales has no legal minimum but advises a minimum of 20 days for a one-year, full-time qualification and a minimum of 80 days for a four-year qualification. South

8 • Gwyn Edwards, Amy B. M. Tsui and Philip Stimpson

Australia likewise has no stated minimum requirement but the norm is between 80 and 100 days. This kind of diversity clearly makes any attempt to generalize about the intentions and implementation of university-school partnerships in Australia rather problematic. The fact that diversity is also encouraged within a state can be seen, for example, in the Guidelines for the Evaluation of Teacher Education Courses (Department of Education, Victoria, 1999) for the state of Victoria. In the section on partnerships for teacher education a number of criteria are listed that will make the partnerships “work best.” Among these it is stated that each teaching practice school should “develop their approach [our emphasis] to participating in the teacher education programme” (p. 14). Thus, even if one were to focus on a single university, it is likely that the nature of its partnerships with individual schools might vary considerably. Current thinking of school-university partnership in Australia continues to favor the “carrot” rather than the “stick.” A recent report on teacher education (Parliament of Commonwealth of Australia, 2007) draws attention to many outstanding partnerships in teacher education and proposes that the government “should exercise leadership to encourage and support the partnerships that could be the vehicle for achieving high quality teacher education across the nation” (p. 79). The time is ripe, it contends, for “concerted and systematic action to encourage the development of authentic, effective and sustainable partnerships” (p. 80). It therefore strongly urges the government to establish a National Teacher Education Partnership Fund that would provide financial support for universities, schools and employing authorities to develop collaborative approaches to practicum arrangements as a priority but also other partnership activities in research, induction and ongoing professional development. As we can see from the above discussion, despite the variations in the aims and forms of partnership between schools and higher education institutions (or universities) adopted in different parts of the world, it is widely acknowledged that school-university partnership is necessary for enhancing the quality of teacher preparation and school education. Clearly, schools are seen as important sites of learning for STs and practicing teachers, and the collaboration between schools and universities as affording distinctive opportunities for learning. Exploring what these affordances are and how they facilitate learning is the concern of this volume.

Research on School-University Partnership As would be expected, the proliferation of school-university partnerships has generated considerable activity in the educational research community. Most of the research has emanated from the United States and, consequently, has focused predominantly on school-university partnership in

Contexts for Learning in School-University Partnership • 9

PDS settings. In the early 1990s, the literature in the United States was sparse (Book, 1996) but has since grown exponentially. In addition to a rapidly expanding accumulation of journal articles, there has been a steady stream of edited books (Byrd & McIntyre, 1999; Clark, 1999; DarlingHammond, 1994; Guadarrama, Ramsey, & Nath, 2002, 2005; Hoffman, Reed, & Rosenbluth, 1997; Johnston, Brosnan, Cramer, & Dove, 2000; Levine & Trachtman, 1997; Osguthorpe, Harris, Fox Harris, & Black, 1995; Patterson, Michelli, & Pacheco, 1999; Ravid & Handler, 2001) as well as special editions of journals. By comparison, the U.K. contribution to schooluniversity partnership research literature has been modest but no less significant. It proliferated during the 1990s but since appears to have waned. With the exception of Australia, and to a lesser extent New Zealand and Canada, contributions from elsewhere in the world to the body of readily accessible research literature on school-university partnership have been negligible. In general, the early research on school-university partnership was predominantly descriptive and focused primarily on issues arising from the implementation of partnership—“roles, relationships, creation of new institutions, teacher attitudes, and teacher education in the PDS context” (Book, 1996, p. 197). Much of it was judged to be methodologically weak and, consequently, the validity and reliability of the findings deemed to be questionable (Book, 1996). Extensive use was made of self-report data which were rarely triangulated. Later reviews of the research (Abdal-Haqq, 1998; Smedley, 2001; Teitel, 2001, 2004; Teitel, Abdal-Haqq, & American Association of Colleges for Teacher Education, 2000), however, indicate a broadening of the research focus and the utilization of more rigorous research methodologies. Until recently little of the research on school-university partnership has utilized explicit theoretical frameworks. In a review of the research literature carried out in the mid-1990s, Valli, Cooper and Frankes (1997) claim that approximately half of the studies examined explicitly stated a theoretical basis for their initial questions and designs. Our review of the research literature suggests that their claim is based on a rather generous interpretation of what constitutes a theoretical basis. Be that as it may, there has been a discernible trend in recent years toward the utilization of more sophisticated theoretical frameworks in school-university partnership research. Theoretical frameworks used include complexity theory (Zelleramayer & Margolin, 2005a); Theruau’s course-of-action theory (Chalies, Ria, Bertone, Trohel, & Durand, 2004); context-appropriation theory (Gimbert, 2002); interorganizational theory (Borthwick, 2001); Bourdieu’s concepts of “habitus” and “field” (Slater, 2001); Lacanian concepts of the symbolic, imaginary and real (Raffo & Hall, 2006); hermeneutic

10 • Gwyn Edwards, Amy B. M. Tsui and Philip Stimpson

phenomenology (Zelleramayer & Margolin, 2005b); Lave and Wenger’s notions of communities of practice (Sims, 2006) and, more specifically, legitimate peripheral participation (Street, 2004; Sutherland, Scanlon, & Sperring, 2005); and activity theory (Edwards & Protheroe, 2004; Roth & Tobin, 2002; Wilson, 2004). For the purpose of this volume, we carried out a comprehensive review of the research literature on school-university partnership. In total, we examined over 400 journal articles or book chapters written during the period 1988–2007. From this literature, we distilled three broad themes which we consider to be especially salient. As we shall see in Part II of this volume, these themes will be explored in the context of a school-university partnership established between Hong Kong University and local secondary schools. In the following discussion we briefly outline what the themes are, the concepts they entail and the issues they raise. Collaboration, Complementarity, Equivalence and Community A significant amount of the early writing on school-university partnership was concerned with establishing conceptions or models to delineate the salient features of different forms of partnership. In doing so, it drew predominantly upon three distinctive but interrelated concepts—namely, collaboration, complementarity and equivalence. More recently, we have witnessed a “turn” to the concept of community in school-university partnership research. We contend that this theoretical turn is highly significant in that the concept of community assimilates the concepts of collaboration, complementarity and equivalence and elucidates their interrelationship in powerful ways, especially with regard to division of labor and power relationships and the interplay between the two. Thus, it opens up new ways of thinking about, establishing and researching schooluniversity partnership, as this volume endeavors to show. For many researchers, collaboration is the essence of school-university partnership. Collaboration is defined in the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary as the act of cooperation and indeed the two terms are often seen as being synonymous and hence used interchangeably. However, in the context of school-university partnership, collaboration is taken to imply something that is distinctive from, and more substantial than, cooperation. O’Hair and Odell (1994), for example, draw a distinction between “cooperative” and “collaborative” partnerships. In the former, “separate authorities are maintained while working to a common goal”; in the latter, “shared authority is enjoyed” (p. xiii). In a similar vein, Rogers and Whetten (1982) define partnership along a continuum from mutual adjustment, where partners endeavor to work more effectively by making minor adjustments in their routines and policies, to collaboration which envisions a

Contexts for Learning in School-University Partnership • 11

larger agenda of change for each partner. The Modes of Teacher Education (MOTE) research in the United Kingdom likewise posits two models of partnership at the opposite ends of a continuum (Furlong, Barton, Miles, Whiting, & Whitty, 2000), that is, “complementary” and “collaborative” partnership. In complementary partnership the school and university are deemed to have separate and complementary responsibilities without any systematic attempt being made “to bring these two dimensions into dialogue” (p. 78). Each partner recognizes that the other has unique attributes to offer which in combination facilitate the achievement of desired ends that could not be achieved by the partners acting alone. In contrast, “collaborative partnership” requires teachers and university lecturers to “work and plan together on a regular basis” (p. 80). Schrage (1990), however, conceptualizes complementarity as a constitutive element of collaboration, rather than something that occupies an oppositional position to it. For him, collaboration entails “two or more individuals with complementary skills [our emphasis] interacting to create a shared understanding that none had previously possessed or could have come to on their own” (p. 40). In a similar vein, Grimmett (1993) defines collaboration as “a process which respects individual and collective autonomy as prerequisites to mutual negotiation [our emphasis] of the agenda in teacher education” (p. 200). For Goodlad (1988, 1994), complementarity is the essence of schooluniversity partnership. His basic argument is that schools and universities are markedly different cultural entities which need to be symbiotically joined in order to bring about the simultaneous renewal of both schools and the education of educators. Powerfully productive symbioses, he maintains, are dependent upon (1) distinctive differences between the two parties, (2) the complementarity of these differences, (3) the degree to which the parties first envision and then comprehend through experience the extent to which this complementarity depends on fully shared commitment and effort, and (4) powerful contextual contingencies such as additional resources and enhanced status (1994, pp. 103–104). Schelchty and Whitford (1988), however, argue that symbiotic relationships emphasize mutual self-interest and, as such, are “inherently fragile, temporary and even given to fickleness” (p. 191). In their view, the cause of school reform would be much advanced if collaborative efforts moved from symbiotic relationships to organic relationships which “stress the common good above all else” (p. 192). Catelli, Padovano and Costello (2000) also distinguish between “symbiotic” and “organic” relationships, the former connoting “an arrangement where two equal parties work together in order to satisfy their mutual self interests,” the latter suggesting “a more integral relationship where the two parties function in an interdependent fashion in order to achieve a set of

12 • Gwyn Edwards, Amy B. M. Tsui and Philip Stimpson

common goals” (p. 227). They argue that regardless of whether the relationship is symbiotic or organic, in an authentic partnership, as opposed to other types of joint ventures (i.e., collaborations, consortiums, cooperatives, alliances, etc.), the school and university act as equal partners agreeing at the outset to work closely together over time toward a common goal on matters pertaining to schooling and teacher education. In so doing, they share “physical resources, monies, personnel and administrative decisions either immediately or in later phases of their partnership relationship” (ibid.). The distinction for Wilkin (1990) is between partnerships based on a “relationship of complementarity” and a “relationship of equivalence.” In the former, responsibilities are distributed between the partners; in the latter, the partners share responsibilities in all areas. Wilkin argues that a relationship of equivalence was implicit in the model of partnership that was being officially promoted in the United Kingdom during the 1980s. The criteria for the approval of teacher training courses (Department of Education and Science, 1984) required school teachers to share responsibility with university tutors for the planning, supervision and support of students’ school experience and teaching practice, have an influential role in the assessment of students’ practical performance and, additionally, be involved in the training of the students within the universities. (p. 6) Conversely, the criteria required university staff concerned with pedagogy to have recent and relevant teaching experience and, moreover, that they “should maintain regular and frequent experience of classroom teaching” (ibid.). The implication, Wilkin (1990) argues, is that the tasks performed by school teachers and UTs were being perceived as readily exchangeable. This contrasted with a model implicitly favored at the time by professionals in the Higher Education Institutions (HEIs) which advocated “role specialism within a framework of close collaboration” (p. 14)—in other words, a relationship of complementarity. Implicit in the notion of equivalence is an understanding that the parties involved have equal status and power. But, while equality between schools and universities working in partnership is deemed to be desirable, the extent to which it is feasible is a different matter. As the Teacher Training Agency in the United Kingdom recognizes: A partnership of equals [original emphasis] is not easy to achieve immediately. The HEI has the experience and the understanding of what is required to create the conditions for the school to settle in to delivering its contribution, and will in effect be the “senior partner” in the early stages of the collaboration. However, HEIs are increas-

Contexts for Learning in School-University Partnership • 13

ingly coming to believe that the best training can be done when schools themselves have acquired enough expertise and experience to play their part as an equal partner. (undated, p. 10) There is a clear suggestion here that schools are deficient in expertise and experience and until this deficiency has been rectified they cannot expect to have equal status with HEIs in school-university partnerships. However, there is also the suggestion that a partnership of equals is a desirable goal that, given time, is achievable. Significantly, the MOTE research in the United Kingdom found that although complementary and collaborative models of partnership were championed by the government and by teacher educators respectively, they seemed applicable only to a small minority of partnerships. The majority conformed to a “HEI-led” model of partnership in which the university defines roles and relationships and maintains tight control over the structure and content of the teacher education program. Fullan, Galluzo, Morris and Watson (1998) identified a similar trend in the establishment of PDSs in the United States where decision making about programs seemed to belong to the university. From the above review, we can see that the competing notions that have been proposed pertain to different understandings of the kinds of relationships between schools and universities, both in terms of working relationship and power relationship, that will create an optimal environment for teachers’ professional learning. Collaborative partnership is considered to be superior to complementary partnership because collaborative partnership requires personnel from schools and universities to engage mutually in negotiating the meaning of a shared agenda in which neither party’s meaning is privileged. Similarly, the preference for organic over symbiotic relationship is based on the contention that whether members are striving for higher common goals and aligning self-interests with them or looking for ways to advance self-interests through cooperation contributes significantly to the quality of a social learning system (see Wenger, 1998; 2003). An environment where the power relationship between schools and university, realized not only in social status but also in the repository of expertise, is symmetrical is considered to create better conditions for learning than one with an asymmetrical power relationship. These are important perennial issues, which the field continues to address. As noted earlier, in recent years there has been a significant shift in the research literature on school-university partnership toward the notion of community to address the issues outlined above, as evidenced by increasing reference to “communities of practice” (Day, 1998; Martinez, Sauleda, & van Veen, 2000; Maynard, 2001; Sutherland et al., 2005), “(professional) learning communities” (Edwards, Gilroy, & Hartley, 2002; Snow-Gerono,

14 • Gwyn Edwards, Amy B. M. Tsui and Philip Stimpson

2005), or “communities of inquiry” (Farr Darling, 2001). Significantly, much of this literature draws explicitly on sociocultural and social learning theories. Sumsion and Patterson (2004), for example, draw on Wenger’s communities of practice construct, together with Foucault’s conceptualization of power and Mann’s perspectives on alienation and engagement to chronicle and theorize about key events, tensions and dynamics in the evolution of a community in a preser vice teacher education program and to explain why a sense of community emerged in seemingly less-thanconducive circumstances. To reiterate a point made earlier, we believe that this shift to community is not merely semantic but heralds the beginning of a fundamental change in how school-university partnership is conceptualized and how the process of learning is understood within it. We believe that the concept of community provides a powerful construct for conceptualizing, researching and promoting school-university partnership. The understanding of learning as a social process and the essential features of a social learning system as involving mutual engagement in a joint enterprise and participation in the negotiation of the meanings of a shared repertoire provide the conceptual tools for exploring the learning afforded by school-university partnership in more profound ways. For this reason, we draw extensively on the concepts of community of practice and activity theory to make sense of the learning processes in school-university partnership. Cultural Dissonance and Tension The research literature suggests that there are profound differences in purpose, organization and culture between schools and universities which inevitably create tensions in school-university partnership (Christenson, Eldredge, Ibom, Johnston, & Thomas, 1996; Sanford & Mahar, 1996; Stoddart, 1993; Wiseman & Cooner, 1996). As Goodlad (1988) points out, schools and universities “differ in purpose, function, structure, clientele, reward systems, rules and regulations, ambience, [and] ethos” (p. 14). Schools are bureaucratically organized with distinct hierarchical roles, a clear division of labor, rigid work routines and a top-down decision-making structure. In contrast, universities are more collegially organized and have more flexible routines. The consequences of the cultural differences between schools and universities are manifested in numerous ways. Most significant perhaps are the acute differences in orientation to teacher education across the two sites. Research has repeatedly revealed a practical orientation to teacher education in schools that contrasts sharply with a more theoretical and critical orientation in universities. Winitzky, Stoddart and O’Keefe (1992), for example, found that the cognitive and social constructivist view of

Contexts for Learning in School-University Partnership • 15

teaching and learning advocated by the university was at odds with the didactic methods which dominated in the schools. Likewise, the reflective orientation to teacher education emphasized by the university was at odds with the replicative model implicitly held by teachers. These dichotomies created an acute dilemma for Winitzky, Stoddart and O’Keefe as university-based teacher educators. If they were to be true to their espoused beliefs with regard to teaching and learning and teacher education, then they would have to persuade teachers of the validity of these beliefs and enable them to change their own beliefs accordingly. On the other hand, they also upheld the values of collaboration, democracy and community, which meant that they could not impose their beliefs on the teachers. Rather, they would have to be open to the teachers’ beliefs with the possibility that their own fi rmly held alternative beliefs would be compromised. Other research highlights similar dichotomies. Sanders, Dowson and Sinclair (2005), for example, observed the interactions between four associate teachers and the STs under their supervision over a significant period of time. Of all interactions observed, 40% involved the associate teachers in a “planner” role in which they informed STs of curriculum content, shared lesson structure and encouraged the exploration of strategies and activities. However, most of the interactions remained at the practical level, concerned primarily with decisions about what content to teach and, to a lesser extent, when and how to teach it. They rarely included any discussion of the rationale for including or excluding content or justification for the teaching strategies chosen. In sharp contrast, only 1% of the interactions involved the associate teachers in a “conferencer” role, which typically would include discussions concerning the rationale and philosophies underlying particular teaching decisions and practices. Moreover, the research revealed that the associate teachers lacked the confidence to perform this role. In a similar vein, Edwards and Collinson (1995) found that during planning and evaluation sessions between 20 STs and 11 mentor teachers (MTs) over an eight-month period, the major elements of conversation consisted of “practical tips” and “redundant clarifications.” Less than 2% of the conversation was directly related to pupil learning. Research has also revealed that STs are often pressured to accept without question the particularized and contextualized knowledge of their school-based mentors. Dart and Drake (1993), for example, found that for some mentors the degree to which STs “fitted in” by demonstrating their adherence to the school’s current practices and values was a rule of thumb for determining their suitability for the teaching profession. Blake, Hanley, Jennings and Lloyd (1996) likewise report instances of well-intentioned subject mentors finding it difficult to allow students their independence. The danger,

16 • Gwyn Edwards, Amy B. M. Tsui and Philip Stimpson

as Hargreaves (1995) sees it, is a utilitarian form of training that accommodates new teachers “to the norms and standards of existing practice, instead of helping them develop these standards to a higher plane” (p. 33). Time required for collaboration has also been identified as a major source of tension within school-university partnerships (Brookhart & Loadman, 1992; Dixon & Isher, 1992; Ebert, 1997; Ross, Brownell, Sindelar, & Vandiver, 1999; Rushcamp & Roehler, 1992; Sandholtz & Finan, 1998; Sealey et al., 1997; Wiseman & Cooner, 1996). The time demands of collaborative ventures are unspecified and unpredictable and in many cases greater than anticipated (Sandholtz & Finan, 1998). It takes time to build trustful working relationships across institutions with differing enterprises, organizational structures and cultures, but the time needed is rarely available. This lack of time often gives rise to poor communication or miscommunication which, in turn, sometimes leads to mistrust, suspicion, anger and doubt (Rice, 2002). Teachers in particular, given the immediacy and intensity of their teaching responsibilities, have very little flexibility for restructuring their time to meet the demands of partnership work. Moreover, schools and universities not only manage their time differently on a daily basis but also work to different calendars. Teachers do not have the time to conduct research, nor, indeed, are they particularly keen to be involved because they do not see research as part of their work. Though many partnerships, especially PDSs, do encourage teachers to conduct research, the studies they conduct, if at all, necessarily tend to be small in scale (Frankes, Valli, & Cooper, 1998). Given the dissonance between the cultures of schools and universities, there is an emerging interest in the research community in boundaryblurring or boundary-spanning activities. For example, Bullough, Draper, Smith and Birrell (2004) utilize Wenger’s concept of “community of practice” (Wenger, 1998) to describe how Clinical Faculty Associates (CFAs)— school practitioners employed primarily as teacher educators—and university-based educators shared a set of assumptions about their respective roles that undermined the goals of collaboration. The CFAs were seen as a means of connecting two communities of practice—the school and the university—and it was envisaged that their boundary-spanning work “would further the aim of creating a third and shared community” (p. 514). What actually emerged was an unanticipated CFA community of practice, “complete with strong bonds of affiliation and with set and understood practices” (p. 515), in opposition (but not oppositional) to both school and university communities. The general thrust in the literature has been to see the cultural dissonance between schools and universities as detrimental to partnership. Barnes and Miller (1991), for example, advocate the creation of a “third

Contexts for Learning in School-University Partnership • 17

culture”—“a haven from both university and school, where ideas can be exchanged, where theory and practice can clash and reconcile, and where university and public school faculty can reclaim their membership in a common profession” (p. 54). In such a culture school and university faculty would “each acknowledge the other as both researchers and practitioners” and, together, “share an understanding of what’s worth knowing and doing” (ibid.). Johnston and Thomas (1997), however, take an alternative stance on cultural dissonance in school-university partnership. They “move from thinking about differences being potentially conflictual to situating them in productive tensions” (p. 9, original emphasis). Recognizing that tensions cannot be resolved, they advocate cherishing them instead as potential sites for learning and growth through dialogue. The stance that Johnston and Thomas take is broadly consistent with the productive view of dissonance that is evident in the social and sociocultural theories of learning examined in the next chapter. As we shall see, Wenger (1998) argues that communities of practice are not “havens of peace” (p. 101). On the contrary, disagreements, tensions and conflicts often prevail and, in Wenger’s view, such dissonance creates opportunities for participation and the negotiation of meaning and, thereby, the possibility of learning. It is just that if dissonance becomes a dominant feature, a community of practice could be rendered dysfunctional. We shall see too that contradictions are also inherent within and between activity systems. But, as Engeström (2001) maintains, contradictions are sources of change and innovation: it is in the process of resolving contradictions that activity systems are transformed and expansive learning takes place. The Products and Processes of Learning Considerable research effort has been invested in trying to identify the learning that is brought about through school-university partnership. Greatest attention by far has been given to studying the learning benefits that accrue for preser vice teachers. The research relies primarily on selfreport data and on the testimonies of cooperating teachers, university faculty or hiring principals. In a few cases learning benefits have been identified through the assessment of classroom practice by trained observers using an appropriate rubric. Many of the studies involve the comparison of preser vice teacher education in partnership and nonpartnership settings. The research suggests that preser vice teachers benefit in their learning from school-university partnership primarily by virtue of the new program structures that it facilitates. In general, the STs are provided with longer and more structured field experience, more frequent and sustained supervision and feedback and more authentic learning experiences. Moreover,

18 • Gwyn Edwards, Amy B. M. Tsui and Philip Stimpson

they tend to be treated as professional colleagues rather than students (Kroll, Bowyer, Rutherford, & Hauben, 1997). Consequently, in comparison with their counterparts who are trained through more traditional campus-based programs, they begin their teaching careers feeling more knowledgeable and confident, having fewer concerns, possessing a stronger sense of efficacy and being more willing to work collaboratively (Paese, 2003; Sandholtz & Wasserman, 2001; Skillings & Robbins, 1997; Yerian & Grossman, 1997). Research also suggests that they are instructionally more effective. For example, Neubert and Binko (1998) compared the classroom practice of PDS-trained and non–PDS-trained interns using a four-point assessment rubric. The comparison revealed the performance of the former to be one point higher than the latter with respect to classroom discipline, use of technology and reflection. Other comparative studies provide broadly similar findings. Castle, Fox and Souder (2003) found that PDS-trained teachers significantly outperformed their non–PDS-trained counterparts on aspects of planning, assessment, instruction and classroom management. However, they concluded that the differences might be attributable to length of time spent in the school, a broader range of experiences, more on-site interaction with university faculty and greater involvement in the school culture. Significantly, research by Ridley, Hackett, Landeira and Tate (2005) suggests that the gap between teachers who are trained in partnership and nonpartnership programs might be closed after one year of teaching. Other studies suggest that partnership-trained teachers tend to have lower attrition rates than those trained in traditional programs. A significant body of research also reveals that the participation of teachers in school-university partnerships as cooperating teachers or mentors positively influences their professional learning (Bullough, Hobbs, Kauchak, Crow, & Stokes, 1997; Skillings & Robbins, 1997). Studies of teachers’ life cycles have shown that taking on a new role is often a catalyst to professional development; it pushes them to new heights, or it helps to reengage teachers who have become disengaged (see, for example, Huberman, 1993). New ideas and techniques brought from the university by STs provide a source of stimulation and innovation for experienced teachers (Brink, Granby, Grisham, Laguardia, & Peck, 2001). Also, working with STs as school-based mentors prompts experienced teachers to reflect on their existing practices and to make explicit their tacit knowledge (Brink et al., 2001; Sandholtz & Dadlez, 2000). As Collinson and Sherrill (1996) argue, having to explain or justify one’s actions to others encourages “reflection, self examination, recognition of one’s knowledge or further need to know, and clarification of reasoning” (p. 61). Other benefits reported include renewed enthusiasm, enhanced professional status and increased feelings of self-efficacy (Brink et al., 2001).

Contexts for Learning in School-University Partnership • 19

In comparison, relatively little attention has been given to researching the learning benefits that school-university partnership brings to university faculty. In one of the few studies available, Jasman, Payne, Grundy and Del Borrello (1998) focus on the construction of knowledge of the participants and argue that contextual knowledge, as well as theoretical and practical, is developed as a result of the partnership. Moreover, the reciprocal exchange of knowledge between the partners is mediated by working with STs in the school context. While there is a significant body of research that suggests that schooluniversity partnerships potentially offer productive learning opportunities for all parties involved, until recently little attention has been given to exploring the processes by which this learning comes about. Throughout the 1990s, the emphasis was predominantly, if not exclusively, on providing descriptive accounts of the products of learning, as opposed to formulating explanations of the processes. Moreover, as we noted earlier, schooluniversity partnership research has tended to shy away from engagement with broader theoretical issues. Indeed, in the early 1990s Manning and Payne (1993) maintained that teacher education in general was open to criticism for being “mainly void of theoretical foundations” (p. 139). More specifically, they knew of no published work whereby Vygotskian theory had been outlined for teacher education. In a similar vein, Samaras and Gismondi (1998) noted that while often promoted for understanding children’s learning, few studies had used Vygotskian theory in relation to preser vice teachers’ understanding of teaching. However, in recent years, we have seen the emergence of research that endeavors to explain the processes of learning within school-university partnerships, much of which draws explicitly on sociocultural and social learning theories and therefore incorporates a broader understanding of what learning means (Cheng, 2005; Edwards & Protheroe, 2004; Maynard, 2000, 2001; Roth & Tobin, 2002; Sims, 2006; Street, 2004; Sutherland et al., 2005; Wilson, 2004). It is not necessary to review all this literature extensively at this point in that some of it will be examined in later chapters. However, a brief summary of a few examples will serve to illustrate some of its salient features. Maynard (2000) adopted the notion of learning as a process of participation in “communities of practice” (Lave & Wenger, 1991) as a framework for exploring the experiences and perceptions of STs during the school-based component of their training. She found that what the STs appreciated above all else was acceptance by and inclusion in the community of practice to which they now had legitimate access. Being welcomed into the staff room was particularly significant to them in that it “appeared to symbolize an acknowledgement and approval of them as a teacher” (p. 22). However, the desire for inclusion in and recognition by the community

20 • Gwyn Edwards, Amy B. M. Tsui and Philip Stimpson

of practice often conflicted with a desire for the independence to construct for themselves their own teacher identity. The research also indicated that productive learning was dependent upon the ability of the STs to “manage” their mentors through par ticu lar tactics or strategies in order to access the cultural knowledge they needed in order to function effectively as a teacher. Street (2004) likewise drew on Lave and Wenger’s social theory of learning—more specifically their notion of “legitimate peripheral participation”—to examine the mentoring experiences of STs. The research revealed that effective mentoring relationships enabled the STs to define and negotiate the form of their legitimate peripheral participation and, as a result, to shape the course that their learning-to-teach experience would take. In the more successful relationships the mentor and ST often formed a “collective enterprise” (Mullen, Kochan, & Funk, 1999) in which learning was “distributed among coparticipants” (Lave & Wenger, 1991) through mutually challenging conversations. Edwards and Protheroe (2004) examined learning within the mentoring relationship from the perspective of activity theory (see Chapter 2 for a detailed discussion of activity theory). The focus of their research was the mentoring practices of 24 MTs who supported STs in primary schools in the United Kingdom. Having identified that the mentors were “primarily concerned with the pace of curriculum coverage and how the student teachers were managing children through the curriculum” (p. 189), they drew upon activity theory in an attempt to explain why the mentors acted in this way. The researchers conclude that the mentors’ practices are explicable in terms of the way they are positioned in the activity system of their own schools and of the school-university partnerships in which they are involved. Roth and Tobin (2002) chronicle the way they used activity theory to frame the redesign of an urban teacher education program so that it made salient the social, collective, rather than the individual, psychological dimensions of learning. Activity theory enabled them to identify contradictions in the existing teacher education program that hampered the smooth transition from legitimate peripheral to full participation and thereby the development of “knowledgeably skilled identities” (p. 126). They then hypothesized that in order to resolve the contradictions STs would need to become more legitimate participants in teaching at school. They therefore endeavored to create communities of learners in which STs would “support one another in learning to teach, collaborate with one another in interdisciplinary teams, and coteach with their cooperating teachers” (p. 120). This intervention blurred the novice-expert division and led to new forms of relations between STs, cooperating teachers and

Contexts for Learning in School-University Partnership • 21

supervisors that were more participatory and democratic than they had been in the past. The sociocultural theories that these more recent studies draw upon embody a number of concepts which provide useful constructs for enhancing our understanding of the learning process in school-university partnership. As many of the studies show, the concept of legitimate peripheral participation is a powerful construct for understanding the importance of learning as participation. In particular, it highlights the importance of novices being granted legitimacy of access to this form of learning, no matter whether they are novice teachers or novice mentors. Some of the studies also suggest that the process of learning is inextricably linked to identity formation and involves both participation and negotiation of meaning. As yet, this link is underexplored but, we contend, is central to understanding the processes of learning in school-university partnership. We should point out too that the interplay of power relationships between STs, MTs and UTs in the actual processes of learning also needs further investigation. Moreover, studies of the learning brought about through boundary encounters and boundary crossing in school-university partnership are virtually nonexistent. Many of the chapters in Part II of this volume endeavor to explore these relatively neglected issues.

A Case of School-University Partnership in Hong Kong Having provided an overview of the emergence of school-university partnership in three Western industrialized countries and discussed the major themes that emerged from our review of the research literature, we conclude this chapter with a brief account of the establishment of a school-university partnership between the University of Hong Kong and local secondary schools. Our purpose is to familiarize the reader with the context of the case studies which are presented in Part II of this volume. As in other countries, teacher education providers in Hong Kong have established over the years various forms of partnership with schools. Early forms, however, can hardly be considered “partnership,” because they entailed minimal involvement of schools. For example, serving teachers were often appointed as teacher tutors, similar to cooperating teachers in the United States, who provided support to student teachers on a voluntary basis. The responsibilities of the teacher tutors were not well defi ned and they ranged from pastoral care to conducting lesson observation and giving advice on pedagogy. At the University of Hong Kong, the move to establish a schooluniversity partnership that entailed deeper collaboration began in 1996 as a pilot project with only three schools and involving only a handful of staff

22 • Gwyn Edwards, Amy B. M. Tsui and Philip Stimpson

members. Prior to that, there was already a system in place in which school teachers, most of whom were graduates of the professional programs offered by the faculty, were invited to be teacher tutors in order to provide guidance to the student teachers placed in their schools. Over the years, a pool of teacher tutors emerged whose ser vices were called upon year after year. However, there was very little involvement of other teachers in the schools and not much at the school level. Building on the pilot project, the partnership network was extended to eight schools in the following year. The positive experience of working with schools with an expanded network prompted a team from the university to apply for funding from the Hong Kong Government’s Quality Education Fund (QEF) to further expand the network to 20 schools. This met with generous funding for two years from 1998. Further funding from the same funding body for another two years enabled the partnership to expand to 50 schools, which was the target number set. Over a period of four years, the partnership network quickly expanded to over 100 schools with about one-third of the schools playing a more central role than others. The initial aim of the partnership was to make the teacher education programs offered by the university more relevant to the school situation and to provide a richer learning environment for the STs during the teaching practicum. In order to achieve this aim, schools were invited to collaborate with the university and, in return, the university would help schools in capacity building, particularly in staff development. A document was drafted which laid down the specific requirements on both schools and the university, and schools were invited to provide input to the document. From the fi rst draft and the subsequent amended draft s, we can see the issues of partnership that the key players were grappling with. In the fi rst draft , which was produced after discussion with school heads, the scheme was referred to as “University-School Partnership” with the university coming before schools. The aim of the partnership was described as twofold: “to provide the most effective learning environment possible for student teachers” and “to help schools in capacity building.” It was also hoped that in the long run, partnership schools could be involved in teaching some courses in the teacher education programs (see Tsui & Wong, 2006). Th is kind of quid pro quo conception of partnership was very much based on a complementary model with the aim of moving toward a collaborative model (see Furlong et al., 2000). However, an unequal power relationship was recognized in the title of the scheme, in which the university came before the schools, and in the second aim, which described the university’s role as “to help schools.” In subsequent documents, attempts were made to address the asymmetry by

Contexts for Learning in School-University Partnership • 23

renaming the scheme as “School-University Partnership” and changing the phrase “to help schools” to “to work with schools” and “working together as a team.” The term “mutual support” was also added to emphasize mutuality of support instead of a unidirectional support from the university to the schools. The notion of “reciprocal interdependence” cited from Wilkin (1990) was listed as one of the conditions for success of the partnership. In the proposal to the QEF, enhancing the learning environment for serving teachers was also included as one of the aims, and improvement in the quality of teaching through providing input in the professional development of teachers and addressing current issues in education were also mentioned. Subsequent elaboration of the forms of collaboration between the schools and the university in a later document includes not just school staff development but also university staff development through team teaching with school teachers and working with schools on projects of their own interest. In the first draft of the document, the part played by the university in supporting schools was stated generally as capacity building. Later on, the qualifier “especially in staff development” was added. This revision was made in response to a request from schools to run professional development workshops and even tutorial classes for their students. It was clear that there was no way that the university could provide this kind of support. Therefore, it was agreed that the contribution that the university could realistically make should be confined to staff development. This negotiation with schools, though motivated by pragmatic concerns, clarified the meanings of the common goals of the collaboration. In working with schools, several innovations emerged. Th ree of them which made significant impact on the learning of the key players were tripartite post-lesson conferencing involving STs, MTs and UTs; lesson study; and teacher fellowship. These innovations were reflective of a change of conception of partnership from reciprocal interdependence to mutual engagement, from asymmetrical to symmetrical power relationships, and from engaging in two different enterprises (that is, school improvement and capacity building versus improvement of teacher education programs) to a joint enterprise of enhancement of learning.

Summary Th is chapter began by highlighting a burgeoning interest worldwide in developing partnership between schools and universities as a means of enhancing the quality of initial teacher education. It then outlined the emergence of school-university partnership in three major industrialized countries—namely, the United States, the United Kingdom and

24 • Gwyn Edwards, Amy B. M. Tsui and Philip Stimpson

Australia—from the mid-1980s onward. In turn, it examined in detail the vast body of literature on school-university partnership that accumulated during this period. The examination revealed that early research endeavors, by and large, were descriptive, methodologically weak and undertheorized. However, it also revealed the emergence over time of more theoretically driven research and, therein, the increasing use of sociocultural and social learning theories. From the theories that this research has drawn upon, a number of concepts were highlighted which provide useful constructs for enhancing our understanding of the learning process in school-university partnership. These concepts will be examined in detail in the next chapter. Also highlighted were a number of important issues in school-university partnership which have yet to be fully explored from a sociocultural perspective by the educational research community. The chapter concluded with an overview of the development of a school-university partnership between the University of Hong Kong and local secondary schools. Attention was drawn to some of the tensions and contradictions that emerged in the process of establishing a school-university partnership and to the steps that were taken to try to resolve them. Highlighted, too, was a discernible shift over time from a complementary model toward a more collaborative model of partnership. The learning opportunities that this move afforded provide the context of the studies that are presented in Part II of this volume.

CHAPTER

2

Sociocultural Perspectives of Learning

AMY B. M. TSUI, FRAN LOPEZREAL AND GWYN EDWARDS

In Chapter 1, we pointed out that until recently there had been a dearth of research on processes (as opposed to products) of learning in schooluniversity partnerships and that there was a lack of theoretical motivation for many of the studies in this area. We briefly outlined the emerging research on the processes of learning in school-university partnerships and the sociocultural orientation of this research. In this chapter, we present the theoretical motivation of the studies reported in this volume and the key concepts of sociocultural theories that have illuminated our understanding of the learning that has been afforded by the school-university partnership set up at the University of Hong Kong. School-university partnership is an immensely complex enterprise. Schools and universities have different missions and they set out to achieve different goals. No matter what model of school-university partnership is adopted, whether complementary or collaborative, the involvement of universities and schools in the provision of teacher education necessarily generates conflicts because of their different perspectives, cultural norms and priorities, as pointed out in Chapter 1. Yet it is precisely such divergence that provides fertile soil for the emergence of new ideas and practices that will enhance teachers’ professional development. A study of the processes of learning in school-university partnership is impoverished if it merely focuses on the individual student teacher’s cognitive processes, with little 25

26 • Amy B. M. Tsui, Fran Lopez-Real and Gwyn Edwards

regard to their relationship with the broader social processes of which the student teacher is a part. For this reason, the studies reported in this volume draw heavily on two major strands in sociocultural theories of learning which have become increasingly influential in educational research, namely, a social theory of learning and activity theory. The former shares many of the basic tenets of Vygotsky’s theory of learning with an emphasis on learning as a “fundamentally social phenomenon” (Wenger, 1998, p. 3). The latter is an extension of Vygotsky’s theory of human development, which departs fundamentally from a cognitivist orientation of learning in its conception of learning as sociocultural rather than individual. Before we discuss in detail the key concepts of learning that are central to the studies reported in this volume, we outline briefly some major theories of learning which have influenced educational research in the past few decades, highlighting the ways in which sociocultural theories of learning offer powerful explanations for learning processes.

Theories of Learning in Educational Research The Piagetian Perspective of Learning: Primacy of the Individual over the Social For decades, educational research has been largely guided by cognitive theories of learning, heavily influenced by Piaget. In grossly simplified terms, these theories see teaching and learning as the transmission and acquisition of a body of knowledge which exists outside the individual. The focus of inquiry has been on the individual’s internal cognitive structures and how these structures are transformed through interaction between the individual and the environment (Piaget, 1952). Much educational research examined learning in didactic contexts, with little regard to the role of participants other than the teacher or the caretaker, the cultural artifacts that mediate the interactions among individuals and between the individuals and their physical environments, and the sociohistorical contexts in which teaching and learning are situated. Processes of learning are understood as universal. In recent decades, influenced by the work of Vygotsky, researchers have noted the incongruity between cognitive theories of learning and the findings of cross-cultural research which show that people who performed badly in tests that were not related to their daily lives demonstrated remarkable cognitive skills in tasks which were. For example, Cole (1985) observed that taxi-drivers outperformed him in mathematical calculations of taxi fares. Researchers have also found that people in different cultures demonstrate competence in different domains and in different

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ways (Cole & Scribner, 1974; Scribner, 1977; Scribner & Cole, 1981; see also Goodnow, 1976, 1984). The untenable conception of learning processes as decontexualized and universal is evident in the shift of stance in Piaget’s later work from seeing stages of human development as universal to contextually variable (Piaget, 1972; Rogoff, 2003; Smith, 1996). In Sociological Studies (1977 [1995]), Piaget acknowledges the importance of the social world in learning as follows: Human knowledge is essentially collective and social life constitutes an essential factor in the creation and growth of knowledge, both pre-scientific and scientific. (p. 30) Piaget further observes that “social life is a necessary condition for the development of logic. Social life transforms the very nature of the individual” (p. 210). However, as Vygotsky (1987) points out, despite his acknowledgment of the role of the social world in the elucidation of the learning process, the individual is still seen as separate from the social world: The child is not seen as a part of the social whole, as a subject of social relationships. He is not seen as a being who participates in the societal life of the social whole to which he belongs from the outset. The social is viewed as something standing outside the child. (p. 83) The Vygotskian Perspective of Learning: Primacy of the Social over the Individual In contrast to the Piagetian perspective of learning, sociocultural1 perspectives of learning, influenced by the work of Vygotsky, emphasize the primacy of the social over the individual (or the psychological) in human development. Vygotsky (1978) points out the following: Every function in the child’s cultural development appears twice: first, on the social level, and later, on the individual level; first between people (interpsychological), and then inside the child (intrapsychological). This applies equally to voluntary attention, to logical memory, and to the formation of concepts. All the higher functions originate as actual relations between human individuals. (p. 57) Congruent with the primacy he has given to the social over the individual, Vygotsky (1978) proposes the notion of “mediation” in learning: Human development is mediated not only by people but also by things which are culturally constructed and historically rooted. Scribner (1990) elaborates on the mediational role of things as cultural artifacts in learning as follows:

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The world in which we live is humanized, full of material and symbolic objects (signs, knowledge systems) that are culturally constructed, historical in origin and social in content. Since all human actions, including acts of thought, involve the mediation of such objects (“tools and signs”), they are, on this score alone, social in essence. (p. 92) In Vygotsky’s view, children’s intellectual development cannot be understood without reference to the social milieu in which they are embedded. Their intellectual development takes place not only with the support of more capable peers or adults through social interaction, but also with the involvement of social and cultural tools. To understand their intellectual development, we must also understand the social, cultural and historical roots of the tools that they have learned to use for thinking and the social interactions that guide them in their use of these tools. He suggests that the focus of investigation should be the social unit of “activity” rather than the individual, and the individual’s higher cognitive development should be seen as derived from the activity in which he or she is engaged (Vygotsky, 1978). This conception, as we shall see, has been subsequently developed by his students into activity theory. Vygotsky’s conception of learning as sociocultural, in particular the important role of mediational tools in learning, has been highly influential in educational research. However, his conception of learning as a process of “internalization” has come under heavy criticism. Vygotsky defi nes “internalization” as “the internal reconstruction of an external operation” (1978, p. 56) which is the transformation of the interpsychological (or intermental) external functions distributed among participants into intrapsychological (or intramental) internal functions of the individual. This process, in his view, explains the process in which socially distributed functions, such as language, literacy, arithmetic and conventional gestures, become the individual’s psychological tools. A number of researchers have pointed out that the conception of learning as a process of internalizing knowledge, regardless of whether knowledge is discovered, transmitted or experienced in interaction with others, implies a dichotomy of the social and the individual. For example, Lave and Wenger (1991) point out that the focus on internalization “does not just leave the nature of the learner, the world, and of their relations unexplored” but also reflects “a sharp dichotomy between inside and outside, suggests that knowledge is largely cerebral, and takes the individual as the non-problematic unit of analysis” (p. 47). (For reinterpretations of Vygotsky’s concept of internalization to address these criticisms, see Wertsch, 1998; Wertsch & Stone, 1985.)2

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Neo-Vygotskian Perspectives: The Mutual Constitution of the Individual and the Social Inspired by the work of Vygotsky and the Soviet sociohistorical school, a number of researchers working outside the Soviet school have pointed out that the specific context of social practice is very important in cognitive functioning and that mastering culturally defined modes of speaking, thinking and acting is fundamental to cognitive development (see, for example, the influential work of Michael Cole and Sylvia Scribner). Much of the earlier sociocultural studies focused on examining empirically the relationship between cognition and language as psychological tools in the context of social practice. They were largely confined to interactions at the microlevel, such as between mother and child, between teacher and pupils, and among peers. Relatively few studies examined influences at the macro level, such as the school, the neighborhood or the extended family (Goodnow, 1993). More recent studies have broadened the investigation from the somewhat decontextualized, universalistic representations of social interaction, language and cognition to the relationship between cultural institutions, social practices, semiotic mediation, interpersonal relationships and individual development (see Moll, 1990; Newman, Griffin, & Cole, 1989; Rogoff & Lave, 1984; Rogoff & Wertsch, 1984; Tharp & Gallimore, 1988). These studies have enriched and reconceptualized earlier interpretations of the Soviet sociohistorical theory of human development (Minick, Stone, & Forman, 1993). Institutions such as schools, homes and libraries, which are culturally specific, are seen as systematically structuring the interactions among people and between people and cultural artifacts. Interactions among people in their shared activity in a given institutional context give rise to a variety of interpersonal relationships which impact on learning. The extent to which an individual relates to other people and identifies with the community of which he or she is a member affects the extent to which he or she will appropriate the speech and actions of that community. Therefore, these studies suggest, it is very important to understand the way human life is organized, the social interaction, the discourses of specific institutional contexts, and the cultural artifacts in which social practices are constructed and embedded. Researchers working within this paradigm, though drawing on different intellectual traditions, share the view that individual development and social and cultural-historical activities and practices are mutually constitutive. For example, Rogoff (2003) observes that the development of the reading skills of an individual would not be possible without the genetic makeup of the individual, the efforts of the human community to read and to help others to read, the resources to make reading possible and a

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system to organize written communication. An individual’s efforts to read constitute and are constituted by the literate society. Also shared among these researchers is the view that an individual’s development occurs in the course of his or her participation in social practice which in turn contributes to the development of these social practices and activities. For example, Rogoff (2003) points out that “human development is a process in which people transform through their ongoing participation in cultural activities, which in turn contribute to changes in their cultural communities across generations” (p. 37, our emphasis; see also Rogoff, 1990). This resonates with Lave and Wenger’s (1991) notion of “communities of practice,” which suggests that for individuals, learning is a matter of engaging in and contributing to the practice of their communities (see also Wenger, 1998). On the one hand, individuals are strongly motivated to align their experience with the competence required by practice in order to become full members of the community. On the other hand, the individual, through participating in practice, shapes the development of practice and the definition of competence in practice (see also Wenger, 2000). Neo-Vygotskian perspectives of learning have become increasingly influential, particularly in educational research. Researchers have been looking for units of analysis that bring together “institutional, social and individual processes” (Goodnow, 1993, p. 371). So far, there seem to be two major strands of research which attempt to account for these three processes within a coherent framework. The first is based on Vygotsky’s proposal of the social unit of “activity” as the focus of investigation, elaborated by his students, Leont’ev and Luria, into what has come to be known as activity theory. The other one is a social theory of learning as participation, espoused by Lave and Wenger (1991) and elaborated more fully in Wenger (1998), where communities of practice serve as the focus of inquiry. In the rest of this chapter, we outline the key concepts in these two theoretical frameworks which have been drawn on by the studies reported in this volume.

Activity Theory As pointed out at the beginning of this chapter, the notion of learning as mediated action is central to Vygotsky’s theory of learning (Vygotsky, 1978). According to him, action that is mediated by psychological tools should be the unit of analysis for understanding the social origin of the higher mental processes of the individual. His students, Leont’ev and Luria, argue that actions, be they individual or group, are embedded in activity systems, which are collective and social in nature. They expand the unit of analysis from human action to activity system. Leont’ev (1981a) argues as follows:

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(An activity) is not an aggregate of reactions, but a system with its own structure, its own internal transformations, and its own development. . . . If we removed human activity from the system of social relationships and social life, it would not exist and would have no structure. With all its varied forms, the human individual’s activity is a system in the system of social relations. (pp. 46–47) Activity Systems Activity theory sees an activity as directed by a motive which is its object. The object of an activity distinguishes that activity from other activities, irrespective of whether individual participants are aware of it. Activities are realized by goal-directed actions that are subordinated to motives. Hence, an action must be understood in the context of the motive of the collective activity system. For example, an action of digging a hole in the ground is senseless until it is seen as part of the activity driven by the motive of building a swimming pool. The same action of digging a hole in the ground may accomplish a different activity of, say, laying the foundation for building a house. Conversely, the same activity may be realized by different actions. The achievement of goals may involve one or more individuals (i.e., subject[s]) and is mediated by psychological tools (i.e., mediational tools) (Leont’ev, 1981a). The subject, the object and the mediating tools that make up the top half of the triangle in Figure 2.1 constitute the observable part of an activity system. Subsequently, Engeström (1987) proposed three more components of an activity system, namely, the communities in which activity systems are embedded, the rules (that is, the norms, conventions and expectations) of the community which mediate the interactions, and the division of labor that mediates the transformation of the object of the activity system into the outcome. That is to say, the rules define how participants are expected to behave and the division of labor lays down who is expected to do what in the achievement of the object of an activity system. These three components in the lower half of the triangle in Figure 2.1 constitute the unobservable part of an activity system. Actions are simultaneously part of the life of an individual and of the social system; they are defined and structured by the broader social cultural system, and they are “everyday conduits” through which an individual’s experience and development are affected by social and cultural institutions (Gallimore & Goldenberg, 1993, p. 316). An individual, through participating in socially meaningful activities with other humans, appropriates the cultural tools, including language, norms and modes of behavior. These tools shape the way the individual interacts with the world which in turn shapes the individual’s mental functioning. In the process

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Figure 2.1 Components of an Activity System (Engeström, 1987). Reproduced with permission from Engeström, Y. (2000). Activity theory as a framework for analyzing and redesigning work. Ergonomics, 43, 960–974. (© Taylor & Francis Ltd, 2000), by permission of Taylor & Francis Ltd.

of interaction, cultural tools and artifacts are being transformed and new ones are being created (Engeström, 1999). The nature of the activity and the modes of participation are also simultaneously transformed. It is in the context of activities and the interaction between the individual and the cultural tools that the human mind develops. In other words, activity is transformational, and it mediates between the individual and the social world through reciprocal interaction (Cole, 1998; Wertsch, 1991, 1998). Therefore, activities and interactions are links between social practice and an individual’s learning. An account of cognitive processes which is rooted in the analysis of the mediating tools and the transformational processes that are embedded in activities provides the link between the social and the individual. In recent sociocultural studies, the concepts of activities and “activity settings” have been increasingly used as a means of investigating the context of learning. Activities are seen as embedded in “activity settings” such as classroom lessons, reading in a library and shopping in a supermarket. Activity settings can also be embedded in one another. For example, a classroom can be an activity setting, and several activity settings can be embedded in a classroom, for example, group work, whole class teaching, and so on. It is in these activity settings that individuals are engaged in common social processes through which meanings are developed and cul-

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tural life is propagated. At a conceptual level, the individual is embedded in microsystems such as dyads or groups which are in turn embedded in mesosystems such as the family or the neighborhood, which are part of the macrosystems such as a cultural or a national group (Bronfenbrenner, 1979). Tharp (1993) defines “activity setting” as a construct that unites (1) the objective features of the environment, (2) the verbal and nonverbal actions of the participants and (3) the subjective features of the experience, intentions and meanings of the participants. According to him, activity setting, insofar as it combines the objective and subjective features into one single construct, is the most important innovation of the neo-Vygotskian sociohistorical movement. He elaborates as follows: Thus activity settings may be described in terms of the who, what, when, where and whys of everyday life in school, home, community, and workplace. These features of personnel, occasion, motivations and meanings, goals, places and times are intertwined conditions that together comprise the reality of life and learning. (Tharp, 1993, p. 276) Interacting Activity Systems and Expansive Learning Activity theory has been applied to learning in educational settings, as mentioned in Chapter 1. For example, Roth and Tobin (2002) used an activity system as a framework to analyze and reconceptualize a teacher education program and the contradictions that are generated by the different expectations of the school and the university tutors when student teachers are placed in schools. More recent research adopting activity systems has broadened into workplace situations. Once the theory is extended to diverse contexts, the question of how one understands interacting activity systems and the multiple perspectives, or “multi-voicedness” (Engeström, 2001, p. 133), inherent in these systems, presents a challenge to researchers. In what Engeström has referred to as “third generation” activity theory (Engeström, 2001, p. 135), two interacting activity systems have been taken as a minimal unit of analysis, and conceptual tools such as dialogicality (Bakhtin, 1981), boundary crossing (Engeström, Y., Engeström, R., & Kärkkäinen, 1995) and activity networks (Russell, 1997) have been developed to understand the dynamics between these interacting activity systems and the multiple perspectives. The application of the concept of activity system to work situations shows that in the course of the interaction between two or more activity systems, the objects of these activity systems are being reconceptualized, resulting in new activity systems. Hence, we often find ourselves learning new forms of activity as they are being created. Engeström (2001) refers to

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this process as expansive transformation and the learning that takes place as expansive learning. “[T]he object of expansive learning activity is the entire activity system in which the learners are engaged. Expansive learning activity produces culturally new patterns of activity. Expansive learning at work produces new forms of work activity” (Engeström, 2001, p. 139). Central to this transformation process is the role of contradictions, which are inherent within and between activity systems, as sources of change and innovation. The concept of the activity system provides a powerful way of focusing on aspects of the wider context which serve as a mediating structure between the individual and the social world. The dynamics of the interaction between elements within an activity system and between two activity systems and the contradictions so generated are particularly relevant to the understanding of school-university partnership, which is inherently conflictual because schools and universities are rooted in different sociohistorical contexts, as pointed out in Chapter 1. Resolving cultural tensions is therefore central to the work of school-university partnership, and expansive learning takes place in the resolution of tensions. However, the activity theory framework leaves certain important issues unexplored, for example, the issues of legitimate access to an activity system or a particular group of participants in the system and the trajectory of participation in that system and the identities so constituted. The relationship among people is another issue that has been given less attention, as in other Vygotskian research (Goodnow, 1993; see, however, Wertsch, 1998). For example, relatively little attention has been given to membership—that is, whether one sees oneself and others as marginal or full members of a group or several groups—and its relation to the skills that one acquires, one’s way of thinking and being, and the meanings that one appropriates. These are issues which are central to teachers’ learning processes in the context of school-university partnership. For example, in order to learn, student teachers need to be given legitimate access to participate in the everyday practice of their practicum schools, which goes beyond being given some classes to teach. Whether student teachers are welcomed by teachers in their placement schools as members who can make useful contributions or whether they are treated as sojourners or liabilities leads to significantly different learning outcomes and the development of different identities. The theoretical framework of the social theory of learning, which sees learning as a social process, expounded by Lave and Wenger (1991) and Wenger (1998) addresses some of these issues in a powerful way, to which we now turn.

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A Social Theory of Learning On the basis of ethnographic studies of several cases of apprenticeship, Lave and Wenger (1991) propose the conception of learning as a fundamentally social process and an inevitable part of everyday life. According to them, learning is not a reified time-bound activity separate from everyday activities, but rather “the very process of being engaged in, and participating in developing, an ongoing practice” (Wenger, 1998, p. 95). Under this framework, the traditional notion of apprenticeship is broadened from a narrowly defined dyadic interaction between mentor and mentee or master and apprentice to “changing participation and identity formation in a community of practice” (Wenger, 1998, p. 11). Learning is a process that takes place “in a participation framework” and is mediated by the different perspectives among the coparticipants. Therefore it is the community, or those participating in the community, who “learn.” As Hanks (1991) points out, “Learning is . . . distributed among co-participants, not a one-person act” (Hanks, 1991, p. 15). The question that they have tried to address is not what kinds of cognitive processes individuals are engaged in and what kinds of cognitive structures they acquire and how, but what kinds of participation will bring about what kind of learning. Participation is, therefore, at the very core of their theoretical framework of learning. Wenger (1998), building on his work with Lave (Lave & Wenger, 1991), proposes a social theory of learning as mediating between theories of social structure, which perceive social behavior as the enactment of prefabricated codes and structures, and theories of situated experience, which give primacy to micro or local actions and interactions, hence neglecting the role of social structures in shaping them. Learning, according to him, “takes place through our engagement in actions and interactions, but it embeds this engagement in culture and history. Through these local actions and interactions, learning reproduces and transforms the social structure in which it takes place” (Wenger, 1998, p. 13). Central to Wenger’s framework are the notions of “community,” “practice,” “meaning” and “identity.” In the ensuing discussion, we shall focus on the key concepts in Wenger’s framework which are particularly powerful in illuminating the nature of learning in general and the learning of teachers in particular. Communities of Practice The notion of “community of practice” is central to Wenger’s theoretical framework. As he explains, its analytical power lies in the integration of all components of a social theory of learning, which include “community,” “practice,” “identity” and “meaning” (Wenger, 1998, p. 5). Essentially, a

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“community of practice” is a community in which coherence is achieved by “practice.” The term “practice,” as used by Wenger, is always “social practice” (p. 47) and is used more widely than the way it is commonly used in the literature. It includes both the tacit and the explicit, what is said and unsaid, what is codified and assumed. As such, inherent in the concept of practice is the social and negotiated nature of both the tacit and the explicit. Practice also entails doing and knowing and embodies both the practical and theoretical side of doing. An individual’s engagement in practice, or participation, involves the whole person acting and knowing, doing and theorizing. By associating “practice” with “community,” Wenger does not imply that everything that might be called a community “is defined by practice or has a practice specific to it” or, conversely, that everything that might be called practice “is the defining property of a clearly specifiable community” (p. 72). To associate practice and community, Wenger has identified three dimensions of the relation by which practice is the source of coherence of a community. The first dimension is the mutual engagement of participants. In a community of practice, members are bound together into a social entity not as a consequence of merely belonging but through intense forms of mutual engagement in pursuit of what they collectively do. Mutual engagement does not imply homogeneity and harmony among community members. On the contrary, many communities are characterized by diversity and discord, which can be viewed as productive. Indeed, as Wenger (1998) argues, most situations that involve sustained interpersonal engagement “generate their fair share of conflicts and arguments” (p. 77). However, communities can be rendered dysfunctional if conflict and misery constitute the core characteristics. The second dimension is the negotiation of a joint enterprise. The enterprise is deemed to be joint not in the sense that there is common agreement on matters relating to it but in the sense that it is communally negotiated. It is the result of a collective process of negotiation over time and is defined by the participants in the very process of pursuing it. Th is negotiation creates among participants relations of mutual accountability that become an integral part of the practice. The third dimension is the development of a shared repertoire. Over time, in pursuit of a joint enterprise, communities of practice create, or take on board, a repertoire of heterogeneous resources through which meaning is created. This shared repertoire includes all the “routines, words, tools, ways of doing things, stories, gestures, symbols, genres, actions or concepts” (Wenger, 1998, p. 83) that have become integral to established practice of the community. The repertoire becomes a resource for the negotiation of meaning.

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Participation and Reification As mentioned above, at the very core of Wenger’s social theory of learning is the concept of participation, which he defines as “the social experience of living in the world in terms of membership in social communities and active involvement in social enterprises” (1998, p. 55). It is at once personal and social. Participation in communities of practice shapes our experience just as it shapes the communities of which we are a part. It is in the process of participation that meaning is constructed and negotiated. Participation is broader than direct engagement in specific practice with specific people. It is part of who we are and is something that we carry with us even if we are not interacting with others. For example, participation as a teacher happens not only when a teacher is in a classroom or in a school interacting with students or fellow teachers; it also happens when he or she reads a piece of news on a bus about a student suicide, or when he or she mulls over some comments made about an educational policy at a dinner conversation. Participation is a source of identity because it is in participation that we become members of a community and it is in the course of interacting with other members of the community that identities are being formed. Complementary to the notion of participation is the notion of “reification,” which refers to the processes through which “aspects of human experience are congealed into fi xed forms and given the status of objects” (ibid., p. 59). In other words, through reification the meanings produced by our experience are projected and concretized into an independent existence. The reified “object,” which could be concrete or abstract, then becomes the focus for negotiation of meaning. Typically cultural tools and artifacts are reified objects which carry with them a complex web of meaning co-constructed by participants. Mediation by a reified object can have a profound effect on the way our engagement with the world is being experienced. For example, professional competence mediated by the reification of a particular set of benchmarks in the form of, say, a certificate has a profound effect on teachers’ experience of what being competent in teaching means and how they position themselves in the social space. Participation and reification are complementary; one cannot exist without the other. A reified object has no meaning when it is taken out of the context of specific forms of participation. Conversely, participation without reification can result in participants’ not being able to make sense of the experience. Participation and reification are both at once social and individual. Participation is both a social process and a personal experience. Reification is largely a collective process, but it shapes our personal experience of the world as well.

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Legitimate Peripheral Participation Lave and Wenger (1991) make a distinction between different forms of participation, that is, full, peripheral and marginal participation. Drawing on their research into the way apprentices learn in vocations such as tailoring and midwifery, they propose that apprentices are able to learn effectively because they are not required to participate fully from the very beginning. Apprentices are given access to practice, which affords opportunities for engagement in performance in congruent ways which provide for growth (see also Hanks, 1991). However, because apprentices are likely to fall short of what the community regards as competent performance, it is very important that they be granted legitimacy of access to practice and legitimacy to participate peripherally at the initial stages until they have acquired the necessary competence to participate fully. In other words, legitimate peripheral participation is a very important form of learning for novices. Community Boundaries and Boundary Crossing The characterization of communities of practice outlined above implies that in any society there are numerous communities of practice and an individual is necessarily engaged in more than one community of practice to varying extents. In Wenger’s framework, communities of practice do not exist in isolation and therefore cannot be understood independently of each other. Participation and reification can each be demarcation of community boundaries and hence can act as sources of discontinuity. However, they can also act as connections that can create continuities across boundaries. The products of reification can traverse boundaries and individuals can participate in a number of communities of practice simultaneously, giving rise to two types of connections. Boundary objects comprise those artifacts, discourses and processes around which interconnections between communities of practice can be organized, and brokering is the means by which elements of practice in one community are introduced to another. Although both participation and reification can create connections across boundaries, their channels of connection are distinct in that the sharing of reified objects does not of itself necessitate cross-boundary participation, and conversely, participation in multiple communities of practice need not bring about the transfer of objects from one to another. For Wenger, participation and reification “provide very different sorts of connections and present different characteristics, advantages and problems, reflecting their complementarity” (Wenger, 1998, p. 111). Their complementarity is most advantageous when objects and people cross boundaries together.

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Boundaries are important in that they not only connect communities but also “offer learning opportunities in their own right” (Wenger, 2003, p. 84). The multiple forms and levels of participation that characterize communities of practice provide opportunities for learning for both insiders and outsiders, with participants contributing and benefiting differently depending on their relations to the enterprise and the community. Learning opportunities at the core of a community are different from those at the boundaries. The former arise because competence and experience need to converge in order for a community to exist. The latter, in contrast, are brought about by the divergence of experience and competence. The capacity for learning in communities of practice is enhanced when their core and their boundaries are active in complementary ways. As Wenger (2003, p. 85) puts it: In social learning systems, the value of communities and their boundaries are complementary. Deep expertise depends on the convergence between experience and competence, but innovative learning requires their divergence. In either case, you need strong competences to anchor the process. But these competences also need to interact. The learning and innovation potential of a social learning system lies in its configuration of strong core practices and active boundary processes. Identity Formation The concept of identity serves as a pivot between the social and the individual in Wenger’s framework. It is neither individual nor abstractly social. “Identity consists of negotiating the meanings of our experience of membership in social communities. . . . [I]t is the social, the cultural, the historical with a human face” (Wenger, 1998, p. 145). Thus, the unit of analysis is not the person or the community, but the process of their mutual constitution. Wenger explains: We cannot become human by ourselves; hence a reified psychologically based notion of individuality misses the interconnectedness of identity. Conversely, membership does not determine who we are in a simple way; hence generalizations and stereotypes miss the lived complexity of identity. (p. 146) Identity is not some preexisting primordial core of personality. It exists, Wenger (1998) claims, not as an object in and of itself, “but in the constant work of negotiating the self” (p. 151). Negotiation of the self is carried out through the forms of competence that membership of a community of practice entails. In other words, acquiring competence that is historically

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and socially defined in a community of practice is part and parcel of identity formation. Individuals are strongly motivated to align their experience with the competence required by the practice in order to become accepted members of the community. What counts as competence is determined in respect of the three dimensions by which practice is the source of coherence of a community, that is, having sufficient understanding of the joint enterprise to be able to contribute to it, knowing how to engage mutually with other members of the community and gaining access to the shared repertoire of communal resources and acquiring the ability to use it effectively. Identity formation also involves the process of contributing to the practice of a community, thereby enhancing the competence of the individual as well as the community. This interplay between participation and competence is crucial to the evolution of practice, for therein “lies the potential for the transformation of both experience and competence, and thus for learning, both individually and collectively” (Wenger, 1998, p. 139). The construction of identity is therefore integral to a social theory of learning. The new activities, tasks and functions that one masters and the new understandings that one achieves form a part of the larger systems of relations in which they take on meaning. These systems of relations are produced and reproduced within social communities, and the individual defines and is defined by these relations. Hence learning means becoming a different person with respect to the possibilities afforded by these systems of relations. The construction of identity involves dimensions like modes of participation, which presupposes nonparticipation; issues of membership, which presupposes inclusion and exclusion; and power relationships, ownership of meaning and modes of belonging. Power and Meaning Identity, as the preceding discussion has shown, is both experiential and relational and both subjective and collective. It is shaped by the way the individual relates to other individuals and to the social world. An important element in defining these relationships is power. Hence, as Wenger argues, a social concept of identity entails a social concept of power. According to him, “Identity is a locus of social selfhood and by the same token a locus of social power. . . . [P]ower derives from belonging as well as from exercising control over what we belong to” (Wenger, 1998, p. 207). As such, identity includes both conflictual and coalescing aspects, and it has “a dual structure that reflects the interplay between identification and negotiability” (ibid.). While a joint enterprise brings together a community, the meanings of that enterprise and the meanings of its shared practice are subject to negotiation. Claiming ownership of meaning becomes a

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locus of power struggle because it is a source of identification. Wenger refers to this as “economy of meaning,” in which different meanings are produced in different locations but compete for special status. An example, provided by Wenger, is the struggle for power between two politicians when one accuses the other of a lack of patriotism. On the one hand, being a national of a certain country is an identification of “patriotism.” On the other hand, the kind of behavior that qualifies as “patriotism” that everybody identifies with is open to negotiation. In accusing another person as lacking “patriotism,” the politician is appropriating the notion of “patriotism” that people resonate with and using it as a way of asserting his power over the other by privileging his own meaning of patriotism. Power, as defined by Wenger, goes beyond institutional power. For example, a parent may hold a position of authority, but in practice, the power to define the meaning of a situation, an action or an artifact is still subject to negotiation. In this sense, the struggle for power is pervasive at all levels of our everyday life. In the above discussion, we have introduced some of the key concepts in the social theory of learning proposed by Lave and Wenger (1991) and further developed by Wenger (1998). We have seen that the social and the individual are unified under a theory of human development as social participation. The conception of learning as social participation is not new, nor is the conception of the inseparable duality of the social and the individual. It is a theoretical stance of many sociocultural theorists, as the preceding discussion has shown. What is new, however, is the broad perspective that Jean Lave and Etienne Wenger have adopted for notions such as “practice” and “participation,” and the ways in which Etienne Wenger has conceptualized the “deeply interconnected and mutually defining” components of the framework necessary for the characterization of the process of learning and knowing as social participation and identity formation (Wenger, 1998, p. 5). The key concepts outlined in the preceding discussion provide a powerful framework for us to make sense of how teachers learn, be they newcomers or old-timers, why some teachers learn more effectively than others in partnership schools, how important it is for the professional growth of teachers that they not only gain access but also contribute to all aspects of the practice in a school, and how their relationships with other members of the community shape their identities and learning outcomes. Moreover, Wenger’s conception of multiple communities of practice, community boundaries and the opportunities for learning that are afforded at the boundaries is particularly relevant to the studies of school-university partnerships where two communities of practice interact. An understanding of these issues has important implications for the development of school-university partnerships as sites of learning for teachers.

42 • Amy B. M. Tsui, Fran Lopez-Real and Gwyn Edwards

Concluding Remarks As mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, school-university partnership involves interactions among multiple communities. As such the issues involved are immensely complex. How participants position themselves in the social space that is created as community boundaries are crossed, how they make sense of new forms of activities that emerge from the interactions, how they appropriate the sociocultural tools that are brokered in boundary crossing and how they negotiate the meanings of the joint enterprise are critical processes which constitute the learning experience and shape their identities as teachers. Our understanding of these processes is still very limited. We hope that a sociocultural framework which gives central importance to the mutual constitution of the social and the individual dimensions of human development will help to elucidate teachers’ learning processes in school-university partnership. We bring together insights from a social theory of learning as participation and activity theory which complement each other. While Wenger’s conception of community of practice provides a macroscopic and expansive view of the complex relationships, conflicts and tensions within and between communities, Engeström’s conception of communities as activity systems and the resolution of contradictions as sources of improvement and change illuminates our understanding of the mediating role of sociocultural artifacts and the dynamic processes of change that are brought about as participants and communities interact. In Part II of this book, we attempt to use this framework to address the following questions: • How do we understand the processes of learning to become a teacher? How does school-university partnership facilitate the legitimate peripheral participation of student teachers and their transition from peripheral to full participation in the communities of practice of teachers? • What are the processes of identity formation for preser vice teachers and mentors within a school-university partnership? • What learning is afforded by the mutual engagement of student teachers, mentors and university tutors in the joint enterprise of improving teaching and learning in the classroom? What kind of knowledge is being jointly created? • What kind of shared repertoire is developed in the mutual engagement, and what are the new meanings that are attached to actions and artifacts in the shared repertoire? • What are the power relationships among the members? What are the tensions, challenges and conflicts? And in what ways are they

Sociocultural Perspectives of Learning • 43

an integral part of partnership fabric and how do they affect the trajectory of participation of these members? • How do the multiple communities of practice formed within partnership impinge on and interact with one another, and how does learning happen in the processes of interaction? Cases of learning will be reported in each of the chapters in Part II which hopefully will provide answers to these questions, at least partially if not fully.

Notes 1. The term “sociocultural theory” has been used interchangeably with “sociohistorical” or “cultural-historical” theories of learning in the research literature. 2. Wertsch and Stone (1985) propose that when Vygotsky talked about the mechanism of transfer of task-responsibility from the social level to the individual level, he did not mean simple transfer from the external to the internal, but a more subtle semiotic process, one that they call “appropriation of meaning” or “semiotic uptake.” Wertsch (1998) proposes an interpretation of internalization as “mastery” (p. 50), which he elucidates as “knowing how” (Ryle, 1949). According to Wertsch, the term “mastery” avoids some conceptual baggage that comes with internalization which suggests that processes which were once carried out externally come to be done internally. Th is is the image given by Vygotsky’s example of moving from counting with fi ngers and sticks to doing so without them. Wertsch points out that many mediated actions never progress to the internal plane; for example, some multiplications can never be fully internalized for most people. Wertsch suggests that it is best to talk about mastering the cultural tools. However, neither “appropriation” nor “mastery” seems to resolve the apparent dichotomy between the inside and the outside, and between the individual and the social. Nor do they address the issue of the social structure mediating the individual and the social.

PART

II

Cases of Learning in School-University Partnership

CHAPTER

3

On Becoming a Member of a Community of Practice GWYN EDWARDS AND AMY B. M. TSUI

Introduction This chapter focuses on the nature of student teacher (ST) learning as the development of a professional identity through “legitimate peripheral participation” (Lave & Wenger, 1991) in a community of practice. It examines the ways in which school-university partnership facilitates the participation of STs and shows that in order for legitimate peripheral participation to bring about powerful learning, STs should be provided with opportunities to gain legitimate access to participation in the community’s practice to appropriate its culture and to construct their identities. It argues that the kinds of participation that are made available to STs and the extent to which legitimacy of access to practice is granted to them profoundly affect the fashioning of their incipient professional identities. Learning and Identity Formation In recent years there has been an upsurge of scholarly interest in the issue of self and identity within the social sciences and humanities. There is now available a profusion of theoretical perspectives from which self and identity can be examined. Historically, a Western conception of selfhood, 47

48 • Gwyn Edwards and Amy B. M. Tsui

rooted in Enlightenment thinking, has been pivotal to both academic and lay understandings of identity. The Enlightenment subject is conceived as integrated and whole, endowed with the capacities of reason, consciousness and action and possessing an inner core which remains essentially the same throughout the individual’s existence (Hall, 1996b). The notion of a unified, transcendental self, however, has been increasingly challenged from a number of disciplinary or theoretical perspectives. It is now commonly argued that the self has no fi xed, essential or permanent identity. Rather, identities are unstable, fragmented and multiple. However, contrary to the endeavors to decenter the self, Kerby (1997, p. 139) believes that there is still “the legitimate though often unconscious desire for unification . . . [in that] . . . it is basic to the human project of generating meaningful co-existence with others.” Such unity, it is claimed, “is constituted in and through language usage, and more particularly through self-narration” (Kerby, 1997, p. 125). In short, personal identity “takes shape in the stories we tell about ourselves” (L. Hinchman & S. Hinchman, 1997, p. xvii). “Personal stories,” Rosenwald and Ochberg (1992, p. 1) argue, “are not merely ways of telling someone (or oneself) of one’s life; they are the means by which identities may be fashioned” (p. 1). Wenger (1998) rejects the idea that identities are primarily narratively formed. For him, identities are formed in and through the negotiation of the meanings of experience of membership in social communities. Identity is, essentially, “a way of being in the world” (p. 151). This conception of identity, he claims, “avoids a simplistic individual-society dichotomy without doing away with the distinction” (p. 145). The focus for the analysis of identity is neither the individual nor the community. Rather, it is “the process of their mutual constitution” (p. 146). Furthermore, he sees identity formation as a learning trajectory. Learning is always a product of its negotiation and involves interaction between the two mutually constituted processes of participation and reification. It is through the “cascading interplay” (p. 151) of these processes that identities are fashioned. In this sense, identity and learning are inseparable. Negotiation of the self is carried out through the forms of competence that membership of a community of practice entails. As such, identity is an ongoing learning process that “brings the past and future into the experience of the present” (Wenger, 2003, p. 94). Membership, Participation and Trajectories As Wenger (1998) points out, individuals may belong to many communities of practice, some of which are central to their identities, others more incidental. As such, an identity is more than a single trajectory; it is a nexus of multimembership. It is not a unity, but neither is it an accumulation of fragments. Being a person requires some work to reconcile different forms

On Becoming a Member of a Community of Practice • 49

of membership. The work of reconciliation, Wenger maintains, poses a significant challenge to learners who move from one community of practice to another in that they have to contend with conflicting forms of individuality and competence defined by the different communities. This has particular significance for initial teacher education, which invariably is carried out in two culturally distinct sites—the university and the school. As such, boundary crossing is an inherent feature of learning to become a teacher. Wenger argues that relationships to communities of practice involve both participation and nonparticipation and, therefore, identities are constituted by both. As he puts it, “we know who we are by what is familiar . . . and . . . we know who we are not by what is unfamiliar, unwieldy, and out of our purview” (p. 164). Participation and nonparticipation, however, may refer only to relations of insider and outsider, merely demarcating membership in specific communities of practice and not in others. In such circumstances participation and nonparticipation are not mutually defined and the realization of nonparticipation is of little consequence. However, participation and nonparticipation take on a different significance when participation and nonparticipation are mutually defined. For a newcomer not to understand a conversation between established members of a community is significant in that such experience of nonparticipation is aligned with a trajectory of participation. Wenger distinguishes between “peripherality” and “marginality” as two cases of the mutually defining interaction between participation and nonparticipation. Both involve a mix of participation and nonparticipation, but they produce qualitatively different experiences and identities. In the former, the participation aspect dominates and defines nonparticipation as a necessary factor to enable a kind of partial participation that leads to full participation. In the latter, the nonparticipation aspect dominates and defines a form of nonparticipation that inhibits full participation. The difference between peripherality and marginality can be subtle and, as Wenger argues, it must therefore “be understood in the context of trajectories that determine the significance of forms of participation” (Wenger, 1998, p. 116). In the case of a newcomer on a trajectory that is expected to lead to full participation in the future, nonparticipation is an opportunity for learning. Conversely, established members can be confined to a marginal position, the maintenance of which may have become so ingrained in the practice that it becomes impossible to conceptualize alternative ways of being. Members of a community embody sets of paradigmatic trajectories that lead to possible futures. Wenger identifies various types of trajectories. Peripheral trajectories permit a person access to a community without making a commitment to full participation. Inbound trajectories invite

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newcomers into a community with a view of ultimately becoming full participants in its practices. Boundary trajectories enable individuals to span boundaries and, thereby, link communities of practice. Insider trajectories create opportunities for established members to renegotiate their identities as the evolution of the practice continues, while outbound trajectories lead members out of a community. Drawing on his earlier work with Lave (Lave & Wenger, 1991), Wenger uses the concept of legitimate peripheral participation to characterize the process by which newcomers become included in a community of practice. For newcomers, the process of becoming a member of a community of practice takes place through peripherality and legitimacy, which are two conditions under which participation by newcomers is made possible. Peripherality gives exposure to actual practice through an approximation of full participation. According to Wenger (1998) it can be achieved in various ways, including “lessened intensity, lessened risk, special assistance, less cost of error, close supervision, or less production pressure” (p. 100). Observation can also be useful, but in Wenger’s view “only as a prelude to actual practice” (ibid.). To be effective, peripheral participation must give newcomers access “to mutual engagement with members, to their actions and their negotiations of the enterprise, and to the repertoire in use” (ibid.). Legitimacy refers to the extent to which newcomers on inbound trajectories are treated as potentially full members of a community of practice. Granting newcomers legitimacy is important because they are likely to fall short of what the community deems to be competent engagement. Only with sufficient legitimacy can their inevitable shortcomings become opportunities for their learning. Identity Formation and Modes of Belonging To clarify further the process of identity formation in communities of practice, Wenger delineates three modes of belonging—engagement, imagination and alignment. Engagement could be seen as the core mode of belonging and the predominant source of identity in that within communities of practice members are continuously involved in processes of negotiation of meaning. Imagination is a process of creating images of the world and seeing connections through time and space by extrapolating from personal experience. It is the means by which new developments are conceived and alternative futures envisioned. Alignment is a mode of belonging that ensures local activities are made congruent with broader structures and enterprises. This does not necessarily imply a one-way process of compliance with external authority. It could be “a mutual process of coordinating perspectives, interpretations and actions so that they realize higher goals” (Wenger, 2003, p. 79).

On Becoming a Member of a Community of Practice • 51

Although the modes of belonging usually coexist to some degree and in some combination, each contributes a different aspect to the formation of social learning systems and personal identities, each has its strengths and weaknesses and each has its own distinctive kind of “work.” The work of engagement is, in essence, the work of forming a community of practice. As such, it requires the ability and legitimacy to participate “in meaningful activities and interactions, in the production of shared artifacts, in community-building conversations and in the negotiation of new situations” (Wenger, 1998, p. 184). In this sense, engagement has a bounded character. In contrast, the work of imagination transcends time and space. Above all, it requires the ability to disengage from practice in order to explore it “through the eyes of an outsider” (Wenger, 1998, p. 185). It entails an element of risk taking and “demands some degree of playfulness” (ibid.). The work of alignment is to connect local efforts to broader enterprises in order to direct energies to a common purpose. It requires “the ability to communicate purposes, needs, methods and criteria” (p. 186). Wenger maintains that because engagement, imagination and alignment each have different but complementary strengths and weaknesses they work best in combination. Moreover, by combining them effectively, a community of practice can become a learning community. Identification and Negotiability of Meaning Wenger argues that identities are formed in a “tension between investment in various forms of belonging and the ability to negotiate the meanings that matter in those contexts” (p. 189). Hence, identity formation is a dual process of identification and negotiability. Identification provides experiences and materials for building identities through an investment of the self in relations of association and differentiation. Negotiability determines the degree to which selves have control over the meanings in which they are invested. Wenger delineates the kinds of structural relations that shape the processes of identification and negotiability. Identification, he claims, congeals into forms of membership, and negotiability into forms of ownership of meaning—that is, the degree to which community members can make use of, affect, control, modify or in general assert as theirs the meanings that they negotiate.

Becoming a Teacher In the rest of the chapter we portray and analyze the experiences of three preser vice English teachers enrolled in the one-year Postgraduate Diploma in Education program at the University of Hong Kong during the academic year 2005–2006. The main focus of the study is on the affordances

52 • Gwyn Edwards and Amy B. M. Tsui

for learning made available to the students during their school experience. School experience for students in the program comprises three distinct but interrelated phases, all undertaken in a single partnership school. During the first semester the students initially spend one day per week for four consecutive weeks in their placement school, designed to familiarize them with the school context. This is followed by a three-week block during which they mainly observe practicing teachers but may undertake some teaching of their own, either individually or in pairs. At the end of the three-week block they continue in their placement school on a one-day-perweek basis until the end of the semester. In the second semester they return to their placement school to undertake a 10-week block main teaching practice, usually spanning the months of February, March and April. Th is arrangement evolved within the school-university partnership with the aim of providing STs with a longer induction period and greater continuity in their learning experiences. The university-based component of the program comprises three courses. The Major Methods course prepares the students to teach one of the subjects that make up the Hong Kong secondary school curriculum, whereas the Educational Studies course introduces them to wider educational issues. The Elective course enables the student to specialize in an area of the student’s choice from a broad range offered. In the Hong Kong context, the emphasis of the English Major Methods course is on teaching English as a second language (ESL). The three STs participating in the research were all taught by the same Major Methods university tutor (UT). They were interviewed on three occasions during the academic year. The first round of interviews was conducted in early December following the three-week block, the second in March during the main teaching practice and the third in May toward the completion of the program. The interviews were semistructured and conducted in English. Each lasted approximately one hour. In the first interview, the STs were invited to comment on a number of topics germane to their school experience. The topics covered included relationships with the mentor and other teachers in the school, fellow STs, the UT and the pupils taught; involvement in curriculum planning and decision making; access to facilities and resources and participation in the wider aspects of school life. The interviews were transcribed verbatim. On the basis of the data generated, plausible narratives of the students’ school experience were produced. The production of the narratives was an iterative process in that emergent themes were revisited in subsequent interviews for corroboration, clarification and elaboration. These narratives were then systematically interrogated and interpreted from the perspective of Wenger’s social theory of learning.

On Becoming a Member of a Community of Practice • 53

Maggie Maggie was born in England but at the age of six moved to Japan. At the age of 12 she moved to Hong Kong and completed her secondary education in a school run by the English Schools Foundation. She then spent a number of years doing a variety of jobs in the business world in England, Japan and Hong Kong. She ultimately found this work boring and stressful, so she quit and took a Teaching English as a Foreign Language (TEFL) course through the British Council in Hong Kong with a view to becoming a teacher. Having completed the course, she moved to Australia but discovered that without a degree she was not qualified to teach. After a relatively short stay in Australia, Maggie moved back to Hong Kong and in 2000 enrolled in a BA in Psychology course with the Open University in the United Kingdom. During this period she worked as a part-time assistant in a primary school. This experience she found very rewarding in that the teacher she worked with treated her as a coteacher rather than “somebody to photocopy or mop up spills.” To Maggie, the trust shown in her by the teacher was very important and made her feel good about herself. For school experience, Maggie was placed in a recently established coeducational school in a rapidly growing new town. She deemed the principal to be “open minded and forward thinking,” and under her leadership some of the teachers had embraced innovative ideas and were beginning to move toward more student-centered and collaborative forms of learning. Even so, the school retained a very strong culture of testing and many of the teachers used a predominantly transmission mode of teaching. Maggie was given a workspace in the staffroom and access to everything she needed. This enabled her to see how teachers worked—“what they do, how they spend their time, how they arrange the day and how they prioritize [their tasks].” It also gave her an opportunity to observe and interact with working professionals on a regular basis and to access advice from a number of “different avenues.” Reflecting on her experiences in the staffroom, she conjectured: If I wasn’t made to feel part of the staff, how am I going to learn how to be a teacher? Because if you haven’t done the job before, how are you going to know? . . . You need to adapt to the way that the school works and the rules of the school. If you sat in a separate room, how are you going to understand? You can’t possibly learn how to be a teacher without being around teachers. Maggie worked primarily with a team of five people, including her mentor, who were responsible for teaching Secondary Two (S2) classes

54 • Gwyn Edwards and Amy B. M. Tsui

(Grade 8). They were all very helpful, which in Maggie’s view was “a fantastic attitude and must have rubbed off [on her].” Once the scheme of work had been explained to her, she was expected to contribute, on an equal footing, to all aspects of its implementation, ranging from preparing worksheets to making suggestions on how to teach a certain point of grammar. She felt like she was “definitely part of the team” and that her “suggestions were valid.” If she had prepared something on behalf of the team and subsequently found it did not work in her own classroom, she would adjust it accordingly and then circulate it to everybody else and tell them what she had done. She was thanked for her contributions and not made to feel like “free labor,” that is, given work to do because the teachers “couldn’t be bothered to do it.” Maggie’s mentor was a “bit hands off ” and generally let her get on with her “own thing.” They sat close to each other in the staffroom but did not interact on an hour-to-hour basis. The mentor observed her teaching on a number of occasions but provided feedback only at a fairly general level. In comparison, her UT went into the “nitty-gritty” and commented on “every single thing she did.” Maggie was not unduly concerned about the relatively distant relationship she had with her mentor in that she could elicit support and feedback from the other teachers with whom she worked. She considered herself particularly fortunate in that two of the teachers—one of whom was a personal friend—had recently taken the PGDE program at Hong Kong University and therefore knew what she was going through and could steer her “in the right direction.” Moreover, she claimed that by using her UT’s supervisory practice as a model she could “reflect well” and identify where she “went wrong” in her own lessons. Additionally, she had a good relationship with a fellow ST, so they were able to prepare materials together and, in the process, to bounce ideas off each other. Maggie wholeheartedly endorsed the communicative approach to ESL teaching that she had learned about at the university. Moreover, she believed that the UT had taught her ways in which the approach could be adapted to specific school contexts without compromising its essential features. The teachers she worked with were very supportive and happy for her “to do anything new.” She was not pressured to complete everything she was given to teach, unlike some of her peers in other schools who had to “do each page in a particular grammar book.” Even so, tension emerged from her strong conviction to teach in accordance with the UT’s model while at the same time fulfilling an obligation to the school to cover the set syllabus. For her, the demands of the syllabus meant that there was insufficient time for the students to consolidate their learning before moving on to the next topic. The problem was compounded by the culture of testing prevalent in the school. Thus, she felt “bound and trapped” in the school

On Becoming a Member of a Community of Practice • 55

context and concluded that she “couldn’t fight the system” even though the problem was mitigated to some extent by the willingness of the English Panel head (equivalent to head of an English department) to allow a little leeway in the teaching schedule. She believed that the school tried to cover too much, but being an ST she was “a bit ner vous of rocking the boat.” When Maggie initially went to the school some of the teachers introduced her to the students as an ST from the University of Hong Kong. This she considered “a bit of a mistake” in that it lowered her “level in the hierarchy.” In contrast, being introduced by her mentor to a class as “Mrs. Reilly who is now going to teach you” gave her “a sense of importance.” Even so, it took a while “to get rid of that student teacher label.” She took it as an indication that the students saw her “as a teacher” when they began addressing her as Mrs. Reilly rather than “Missie” (a localized version of Miss which is a common term students use to address teachers in general). Conversely, she began to feel more like a teacher when she got to know their names. When interviewed toward the end of the main teaching practice Maggie maintained that she had “dented the brick wall” that the students had constructed against the learning of English. She felt that she was “teaching what needed to be taught . . . getting through to the students . . . and really making progress.” By then the students always listened to her, and this she took to indicate that they trusted her to teach a lesson “where they were going to learn something.” These feelings of being trusted and efficacious gave her “so much confidence” and bolstered her sense of being a teacher. Jean Jean was born in Hong Kong. She studied in a local school until Secondary One (Grade 7) and then transferred to an international school in Hong Kong for Grades 8 to 9. She then went to a boarding school in the United States for Grades 10 to 12. She completed a degree at Harvard University, majoring in English Language and Literature. During her undergraduate days she undertook a number of part-time jobs related to the teaching profession. In the United States she did some teaching on a voluntary basis and, having enjoyed the experience, began to look at education as a possible career. In Hong Kong, she helped to develop the curriculum of a newly established innovative school and worked for a government agency that has responsibility for developing language policy. These experiences in the local education system further stimulated her interest in pursuing a teaching career. Jean undertook her school experience in a prestigious, well-established coeducational school. In her opinion, the students were “relatively disciplined” and the principal had a “progressive view of education.” Like Maggie, she experienced a high level of participation in the school community.

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She was given a desk in the staffroom, a computer account and access to resources and technical assistance, all of which made her feel she was being treated like a “real teacher,” albeit a “young, inexperienced and green one.” Being located in the staffroom enabled her to learn through observation and casual conversation “what the issues are” and “what teachers actually do.” She could hear teachers on the telephone talking to parents and sometimes ventured to ask them, “So what was that about?” She was able to interact with a significant number of teachers, all of whom were “helpful in different ways.” In general, she found the teachers to be “very open, friendly and comfortable with each other,” and the relationship she had with them was “very horizontal.” They made her feel welcome, showed her “the ropes” and appeared genuinely interested in her. They “literally opened the door” and asked her to join them for social gatherings such as lunch and tea. She also participated in a staff development day, which for her was beneficial because she could interact with teachers from a range of different disciplines. She considered these multifarious experiences to be the “elements” that made her feel like “I’m not just teaching, but a teacher.” Jean was given a lot of freedom in the classroom and she was allowed to organize her lessons in any way she considered appropriate as long as she “covered all the things in the text book.” As a consequence, she was free from the feeling of guilt, commonly experienced by her peers, that if the students “are getting behind they are somehow missing out.” She had regular meetings with the teachers of the classes she taught and shared with them ideas about teaching strategies. They gave her “free access” to all their materials and constantly inquired as to how she was doing. The teachers were also keen that she had the opportunity to participate in a range of professional activities beyond classroom teaching. Thus, she was party to discussions about more general matters such as teaching schedules and examination procedures. Jean’s designated mentor was very experienced and had been in the school for over ten years. She was not an “in your face type of person” but was very willing to help when approached. However, the most significant mentoring relationship for Jean was not with her designated mentor or with any of the class teachers to whom mentoring responsibilities had been delegated. Rather, it was the head of the Literature Department who had taken the role of mentor herself because, Jean speculated, of their mutual interest in the teaching of literature. Also, Jean “hung out” in the Literature Department quite a lot for coffee breaks. Tension for Jean was created by her wish to teach according to her own desires, passions and previous experiences while at the same time being required to conform to the UT’s view of competent ESL practice. As she explained:

On Becoming a Member of a Community of Practice • 57

I think part of this tension [has] to do with the fact that I’ve had some previous experience of teaching. And I think as soon as I stepped into the classroom, I did more from that experience than the theories and methodologies I’d learned here [in the university]. So I thought I was doing [all right] . . . building from what I had been doing. As well as from my own conception of what makes a good teacher, why I want to teach and so on. But having negotiated with the school mentor to teach areas that were more literature and skills based rather than grammar and language based, in keeping with her academic background and personal interest, one of her lessons was criticized by the UT on the grounds that she “wasn’t doing ESL teaching.” This came as “a bit of a surprise” and “out of the blue” because for her the definition of ESL teaching is broad and she expected more flexibility in terms of what she could do in the classroom. From the experience, she concluded that in order to do well in the program she would have to “plan lessons that followed the rules.” As she pointedly put it, “if that’s what you want, that’s what I’ll give you.” On another occasion Jean was told that her approach was fine but if she had been in any other school in Hong Kong it would have been a problem. This confused her because she thought that the purpose of the observation was to see how her teaching “would unfold in this particular context.” She found it odd to be criticized not on what she had done in reality but on the hypothetical implications of what she had done in some other unspecified situation. She felt that she was being judged from a “generalized perspective” without due consideration being given to the contingencies of the actual context in which she was teaching. She concluded that the UT’s comments were valid only if “looked at from her perspective and methodology.” The feedback Jean received from her UT created some conflict and caused her to doubt her way of teaching, but it also prompted her to ask whether she “should really take the theory more seriously” and think more deeply about “what a competent teacher should do.” Over time she came to accept, and indeed appreciate, the systematic step-by-step approach advocated by her tutor in planning some aspects of her work. But she remained skeptical as to the general applicability of “one solid set of rules.” She felt that this approach did not give her sufficient space to experiment and work things out for herself. In the teaching of literature in particular, she contemplated a return to a more intuitive and contextually sensitive approach which would allow her to make strategic pedagogical decisions in light of the way in which the lesson unfolded. When teachers discussed with Jean how to deal with the syllabus, she felt she was getting “a lot of respect from them.” It made her feel “included

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and like part of the teaching community in that school, rather than sandwiched in somewhere between the students and the teachers.” She no longer felt like “a teacher aid helping them fill in the gaps.” Some of the teachers asked for copies of her lesson plans and worksheets, which not only bestowed “approval” of what she was doing but also provided “reassurance” in terms of “balancing the opinion” she was getting from the university. Her expertise was especially valued, and indeed sought, with regard to the teaching of literature, making her feel like “a bit of a resource.” The eagerness of the students that Jean taught to seek her out to request help, talk about their long-term plans, ask for her opinion or just chat also made her feel that “this is being a teacher.” Moreover, assigning, receiving and grading their homework made her feel even more responsible—that she was actually their teacher. This growing sense of responsibility prompted her to reflect on the casualness of her previous teaching experience and, thereby, recognize the need to take the job more seriously. With growing recognition of her own competence, Jean reached a point where she felt “hell this is what I do and I guess I’m capable of it.” However, returning to the university at the end of the Main Teaching Practice quickly reversed her developing sense of being a teacher in that she was “just a student again”—and indeed was treated as such by her tutors who, she claimed, did not grant due recognition of the school experiences of herself and her peers. Claire Claire was born in England but her family moved to Fiji when she was six weeks old. She remained in Fiji until the age of sixteen and then returned to the United Kingdom to complete her secondary and university education. Having successfully completed a BSc degree in Catering she moved to Hong Kong and worked for a number of years in catering and advertising but gave up full-time work when she had children. Subsequently, she did some summer school teaching and some private tutoring. She found this work quite rewarding compared with her work in advertising. However, the private tutoring involved working inconvenient hours and she decided that a career in the mainstream educational system would fit better with family routine. Claire undertook her school experience in a top-ability all-boys school. Compared with Maggie and Jean, her participation in the school community was more circumscribed. She was given a workplace in the staffroom but “it wasn’t a proper cubicle like the rest of the teachers [had].” Rather, it was a desk “stuck right by the door where staff normally put their newspapers and umbrellas or whatever,” surrounded by “tape recorders and junk.”

On Becoming a Member of a Community of Practice • 59

Consequently, she did not feel like she was “a member of the staff.” Interactions with teachers in the school “rarely happened” and she did not attend meetings. She was aware that “there were things going on” in the school but “didn’t pay much attention” because she had the impression that the “invitation [to get involved] was not there.” However, there was a sense in which her marginality was to some extent self-imposed. She acknowledged a lack of effort on her part but saw no reason to involve herself in wider school activities in that she considered the purpose of being in the school to be first and foremost for teaching practice. Moreover, she reasoned that she was not in the school “for long enough” to warrant such involvement. Claire had little confidence in her mentor. Although she found him to be approachable and pleasant he was “just not interested.” In his view, the best way for her to learn was to carry on by herself and find her feet. Communication occurred every other day, usually instigated by her, and amounted to little more than “an exchange of information” about what she had covered, or was planning to cover, with the classes she taught. She had minimal contact with other members of the English Panel and, consequently, there was no sharing of ideas and materials with them. Her only significant interactions were with a fellow ST who was “knowledgeable and experienced,” having previously done some teaching. They both taught S2 and S4 classes, so they were able to discuss teaching strategies and try out each other’s teaching materials. So, although enjoying considerable freedom to pursue her own interests and desires, Claire did so in relative isolation. However, the lack of adequate support from the school did not bother her unduly in that she felt she was “doing a good job” and was quite confident in what she was doing. Moreover, without too much interference from the school she could endeavor to teach according to what she had been taught at the university which, in her view, “was a good way to do it.” Like Maggie, Claire readily embraced the model of ESL teaching taught by the UT. However, for a number of contextual reasons, it proved to be dysfunctional when applied to her S4 class. She taught them for only two lessons per week and therefore did not have the opportunity to get to know them sufficiently well on a personal level to establish an effective teacher-student relationship. Moreover, the teaching scheme she was given was textbook based and focused on learning skills to pass public examinations. Consequently, she “didn’t want to risk anything.” She tried her best to make her teaching motivating and interesting but found it difficult to do so. In the Educational Studies course at the university she had learned about the importance of walking around the classroom but in reality she found it difficult “in a small room with 36 boys and schoolbags everywhere.” This situation, in turn, was not conducive to group work. She ended up in front of the class with a microphone teaching with a “transmission

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approach” and felt frustrated knowing that she “was not doing the job properly.” But she resigned herself to a more traditional approach without too much self-reproach due to the fact that she would be in the school for a relatively short period of time. Had she been there longer, she would have tried “to make it work.” In contrast to her teaching of S4, Claire was able to develop practice with the S2 class which for her was principled, rewarding and selfconfirming. The S2 syllabus was theme based, with each theme incorporating certain language structures and skills. The only demand made on her was to complete each theme, and cover the requisite language structures and skills, within a certain time period. Consequently, she had “more control” over what she did in the classroom. This flexibility afforded her the opportunity to concentrate on motivating the students “to enjoy the subject,” rather than “rushing them through the syllabus.” Thus she felt “more like a teacher” than with the S4 class, where she “was just standing there trying to help them pass their exams.” Claire got little recognition from the teachers at the school. They were not really concerned about what she was doing. She sought advice from teachers in the school on a star award system that she was using to motivate her S2 class but was told by a number of them, including her mentor, that it “wouldn’t work.” For her, this was a very negative experience. She gained a sense of recognition as a teacher primarily through the responses of her students. They did what she asked of them in the classroom, knew that she “was knowledgeable in the subject” and treated her “no differently from other teachers.” In essence, they “had faith” in her. Reciprocally, Claire felt a strong sense of responsibility toward her students. As a teacher, she considered it “a necessity” to “really make a difference” to every one of them. This she believed could be accomplished by stimulating their interest in learning and helping them realize that they could do quite well in terms of achievement. She developed a very close bond with the S2 class and believed that she had “made a difference” to some, if not all, of them. Thus, toward the end of the main teaching practice she became concerned about what would happen to them when they returned to their regular teacher who in her view did not care sufficiently about their learning. In particular, she “felt a bit sad” for one boy, who initially had created lots of problems but she focused on him “and like a fairy tale almost . . . he became the best student in the class.” She wondered what would become of him when she left.

Discussion As pointed out in Chapter 1 and at the beginning of this chapter, legitimate peripheral participation is a powerful form of learning because newcomers

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are given the opportunity to participate to a limited degree and with limited responsibility in the actual practice of established and proficient members. The practicum affords legitimate peripheral participation in that STs are normally given a lighter teaching load and fewer or no administrative responsibilities and are inducted to practice by a mentor or a cooperating teacher. In the three cases reported above, the partnership with schools afforded a lengthened period of legitimate access to practice by STs, with a progression from being physically in schools to engaging in observations of practice and finally to engaging in the actual practice, albeit in a limited way. In this sense, we could say that all three STs engaged in legitimate peripheral participation during the school experience and the practicum. Analysis of the interview data, however, revealed considerable variation in both the legitimacy and forms of participation afforded to them. Legitimacy of Access to Practice The legitimacy of access to practice was granted to all three STs through the agreement reached between the university and the respective partnership schools in which they were placed. It entailed allocating classes to the STs and assigning mentors who were supposed to provide guidance. However, we can see from the data that legitimacy of access is both reificative and participative and can be realized in a number of ways. Where STs are physically located on the school campus has an impact on their identification as a member of the community of practice. First, it is a form of reification in that it reflects the perception (often by the school authority) of their relations with the rest of the school community. This in turn shapes their perceptions of themselves as participants in that community. In Hong Kong schools this is particularly significant because space is very tight in staff rooms.1 Both Maggie and Jean were placed in the staff room and given a workspace with a proper desk. Moreover, they enjoyed the same access to resources and technical assistance as the regular teachers. Jean was even given an e-mail account. Access to resources of this kind was an important reification of their status as legitimate members of the teaching staff. As we can see from the interview data with Jean, it made her feel that she was treated like “a real teacher.” In contrast, the marginal status of Claire as a member of the teaching staff was reified by her being given a desk and not a proper cubicle and the location of the desk near the door where umbrellas and newspapers were put surrounded by junk. This shaped Claire’s perception of herself as not “a member of staff.” The implication of the physical location of STs is not only reificative but also participative. For both Jean and Maggie, being given a proper place in the staffroom afforded opportunities for observing the teachers’ ways of

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being and ways of acting. It broadened their “horizon of observation” (Hutchins, 1993). Learning about how teachers spend their time, arrange the day, prioritize their tasks, deal with parents, cope with contingencies, and so on, are all part of becoming a teacher (Little, 2005). Maggie captured the essence of the importance of physical location when she said, “You can’t possibly learn how to be a teacher without being around teachers.” This contrasted strongly with Claire’s participation or lack of it. Although she was physically located in the staffroom and she was aware of daily events in the school, the marginalization, brought about by the location of her workspace, had a knock-on effect on her identification with the community of practice. She did not feel that she had legitimate access to the community because “the invitation was not there” and she saw herself as a sojourner in the school rather than a member. Legitimacy of access to practice is also reified in the labels and forms of address given to STs. As the interview with Maggie showed, the label of “student teacher” implied that she was not a “real teacher” and undermined the legitimacy of her role as a teacher in the classroom. The form of address “Mrs. Reilly” was another form of reification of the legitimacy of her role as a teacher with her own students. The legitimacy of access to practice, however, does not just involve reification by others; it is also self-reifying. In Maggie’s case, being able to call the students by their names was a self-reification of her role as a teacher. Membership and Mutual Engagement Membership in a community is not just a matter of geographical proximity, being given a title or declaring allegiance or belonging to an organization, as Wenger points out (see Chapter 2). Nor is it just a matter of establishing interpersonal relations, although it is an indispensable part. As pointed out at the beginning of this section, in order for newcomers to become a full member of a community, they need to be mutually engaged in practice with other members so that they can gain access and contribute to the joint enterprise and the repertoire in use. This means not only just being able to contribute to teaching but also to participate in the negotiation of meanings that matter in the community, including being able to contribute to the discourse, the ways of doing things, the routines, the concepts and the actions that the community has developed and that have become part of its practice. For this reason, opportunities to engage with other teachers at a social level as well as at a professional level in their placement schools are crucial to becoming a teacher. In Maggie’s case, she was able to interact professionally with a team of teachers and contribute to the implementation of the scheme of work “on an equal footing” with other team members. She was able to mutually en-

On Becoming a Member of a Community of Practice • 63

gage with other teachers in the practice of ESL teaching instead of being treated like an extra pair of hands to help out with chores. Through these interactions, she was able to gain access to and contribute to the shared repertoire by seeking advice from various avenues and by preparing curriculum materials and making pedagogical suggestions for adoption by the rest of the team. This enabled her to develop an identity as a “part of a team” despite her less-than-frequent interactions with her assigned mentor. Similar to Maggie, Jean was able to interact with a number of teachers not just socially but also professionally on matters relating to students and pedagogy, particularly her mutual engagement with the head of the Literature Department. She was given access to the shared repertoire when she was shown “the ropes” and given “free access” to the resources. She was also able to contribute to the shared repertoire in that her lessons and worksheets were shared with the rest of the team. The opportunities to engage professionally with teachers of other subjects in whole school activities such as staff development day enabled her to see her work beyond her own classrooms. It helped her develop an identity as a member of the teaching profession through imagination. This can be seen from her remark, “I am not just teaching, but a teacher.” Unlike Maggie and Jean, Claire’s interactions with other members of staff were minimal. The interaction with her designated mentor was restricted to “exchange of information” rather than mutual engagement in the practice of ESL teaching. The only interaction at a professional level was with a fellow ST. It is therefore not surprising that she did not feel she was “a member of the staff.” The development of the identity of exclusion from membership was not entirely externally imposed, however. Her refraining from participation from the school activities was partly because she felt that the “invitation was not there” but also partly because her conception of learning to teach was narrowly confined to learning to teach ESL rather than learning to become a teacher. Membership, Competence and Negotiability of Meanings While reified markers of membership constitute one aspect of membership, the competence that it entails is another important and more fundamental aspect. Recognition of competence as valued by the community is an important source of identity formation. Maggie worked with a group of teachers who were themselves renegotiating their identities in the context of developing their practice to meet the demands of systemic curriculum reform. According to Wenger, “a community of practice acts as a locally negotiated regime of competence” (1998, p. 137). When a practice is going through a process of change, the question of what constitutes competence has to be renegotiated by community members, with the possibility that

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the distinction between expert and novice becomes somewhat blurred. Maggie joined a community of practice in which the members acknowledged that she brought with her experiences that fell outside its existing regime of competence. She was engaged in the core activities such as preparing curriculum materials and making pedagogical suggestions which were accepted as “valid” and appreciated. Similarly Jean’s competence was recognized by teachers in her school; her views were well respected and she was seen as a resource to other teachers. For both of them, the recognition of competence came from not only the teachers they worked with but also their students. In Maggie’s case, it was realized by students’ attitude change toward learning English, putting their trust in her as an effective teacher who was able to help them learn. In Jean’s case, it was realized by her students’ asking her for help, soliciting her opinion, discussing their plans with her and developing a close relationship with her. Being able to contribute to the meanings that are considered important in a community, to participate in the negotiation of meanings and to claim ownership of meanings is another important process of identity formation. This involves power relationships within a community of practice. In an asymmetrical power relationship, some meanings are considered more important than others and hence carry more currency than others. The asymmetrical relationship between STs and regular teachers in schools could minimize the former’s participation in the negotiation of meanings. For example, it is commonly found that STs are given limited autonomy in making curricular decisions. This, however, was not the case for Maggie and Jean. Maggie was given the space and encouragement to negotiate the meaning of these experiences within the changing community of practice. She was able to contribute to the shared repertoire by preparing curriculum materials for the whole team so that the meanings of ESL teaching that she constructed in these materials carried as much currency as those prepared by other teachers despite the fact that they were more experienced than she was. Her ownership of meanings can be seen from the fact that when her materials did not work in her classroom, she had the opportunity to reconstruct those meanings by modifying the materials which she subsequently shared with the team. Similarly, Jean enjoyed a “very horizontal,” “open, friendly and comfortable” relationship with other teachers. She was able to contribute to the repertoire by sharing her teaching strategies with the team. She had ownership over her pedagogical decisions, unlike some of her fellow classmates who had to align themselves with the meanings constructed by other teachers. The recognition of competence by both teachers and students, the negotiability of meanings and the resulting ownership of meanings were all critical in Maggie and Jean’s identity formation, as can be seen

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from their development of a sense of being a teacher, being part of the teaching community, and gaining confidence in their role as a teacher. Claire was also given a great deal of autonomy in her teaching. However, because of the minimal interaction between her and other members of the English panel, she was not able to contribute to the repertoire in use and the enterprise. Hence she was excluded from the negotiation of meanings in the community. In order to avoid risks, she aligned her teaching of S4 with the predominant transmission approach against her beliefs. Her competence was not recognized and was even considered irrelevant (“that wouldn’t work”) by her mentor and other teachers. Whatever competence she had developed and whatever meanings she had constructed were shared only with her fellow classmate placed in the same school. This did little to help to develop her identity as a member of the community. The only recognition she received was from her S2 students which was couched in phrases such as “knowledgeable in the subject,” being treated “no differently from other teachers” and “had faith” in her. Gaining the trust and respect of her students not only enhanced her self-efficacy as a teacher but also increased her awareness of the responsibilities inherent in being a teacher. Identities of Peripherality and Marginality As STs, Maggie, Jean and Claire were not expected to participate fully in all the school activities. In this sense, they all experienced nonparticipation. However, the nature of their nonparticipation and the interaction between participation and nonparticipation differed significantly. Nonparticipation in the case of Maggie and Jean enabled them to better participate in certain aspects of the community’s practice with the goal of full participation in the future. All three were aware of their ST identity and wanted to rid themselves of this identity. Both Maggie and Jean were keen to learn the ropes, that is, how teachers lived out their role on a day-to-day basis. They were pleased that they were not treated in the way other STs were, filling the gaps for other teachers, carry ing out chores that no teacher bothered to do, and being “sandwiched between the students and the teachers.” They wanted to be treated like a regular member of staff and on an equal footing with other teachers. In other words, both Maggie and Jean were on inbound trajectories and the form of participation was peripheral which would eventually lead to full participation. By contrast, nonparticipation in the case of Claire did not seem to have enabled better participation in the school community. She was kept at the periphery and there was no intention on the part of her mentor and other teachers to help her move away from the periphery. It must be pointed out, however, that Claire narrowly construed the school experience as being a

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temporary placement in a school as part of the course requirements rather than learning to become a full participating member in the wider community of the teaching profession. Therefore, it was not worth her while to interact with her mentor or other teachers, to engage more fully in the school activities beyond her own classroom teaching. In other words, her capability to connect her experience in the placement school to a broader aim through imagination was limited. It is clear that regarding the community of practice in the placement school, she was on an outbound trajectory and the form of participation was marginal. We could say that Claire developed an identity of marginality which was self-imposed as well as externally imposed. The teacher identity that she developed in teaching S2 students suggests, however, that given a different context, Claire might have participated in a different manner and could have moved on an inbound trajectory. If, however, the identity of marginality persisted, it could eventually put her on an outbound trajectory and lead to nonmembership not just of a particular school but of the teaching profession. Multimembership and Identity Conflicts So far, the discussion has been focused on teacher identity formation situated in the placement schools. As pointed out in the first part of this chapter, individuals belong to multiple communities of practice which have varying claims on their identities. It is clear from the data that the enterprise, the repertoire in use, the forms of participation and the competence entailed between the community of practice situated in schools and that in the university were different. In terms of activity theory, we can say that the activity systems embedded in these two communities are different as the objects of the systems are different (see Chapter 6). In the school community, the object was student learning. In Maggie’s and Claire’s schools, covering the syllabus or textbook and helping students to pass tests and public examinations were the predominant objects, even though the principal and the teachers in Maggie’s school were moving toward student-centered collaborative learning. However, in the university community, the enterprise, or the object of the activity system, was learning how to teach. Although the two enterprises are not mutually exclusive, there is a difference in emphasis. Moreover, different meanings of student learning are being constructed. Such differences were a source of tension for Maggie and Claire as they crossed the boundaries from one community or activity system to another. Both Maggie and Claire embraced the communicative approach to ESL teaching in which the object of student learning was to develop competence to communicate effectively and appropriately in English. The enterprise of the community of practice to which they belonged at the university

On Becoming a Member of a Community of Practice • 67

was the effective implementation of this approach in their classrooms. Their UT had choreographed the approach into an explicit framework for ESL teaching which she modeled in her own teaching. Both of them were keen to teach in accordance with the UT’s model. Maggie’s UT provided her with very close guidance on classroom implementation, and Maggie was confident of her competence to adapt the approach to her specific context of work. However, the competing demand to align with the school culture created an identity conflict. While she wanted to become a competent ESL teacher in the community of practice at the university, she also wanted to become a competent member of the community of practice in her placement school. Maggie managed the conflict by not “rocking the boat” and “teaching what needed to be taught” (i.e., covering the syllabus) but at the same time negotiated some leeway from the English Panel head to arouse her students’ interest in learning English and make “real progress.” Consequently, she was able to achieve coherence between the identities or “subidentities” (Beijaard, Meijer, & Verloop, 2004; Mishler, 1999) that she was developing in both communities of practice. Similar to Maggie, Claire experienced a conflict between the school culture and the classroom settings and the communicative approach in ESL teaching which she wanted to adopt. However, unlike Maggie, Claire did not negotiate with her mentor or other teachers for a space to enact her beliefs. She managed the conflict by aligning her teaching of a senior class (S4) with the school’s demand when there were risks of jeopardizing their public examination results while practicing what she believed in for a junior class when there was little risk involved. Here we have a case of an almost schizophrenic embodiment of conflicting identities in Claire. Her engagement with S4 in the form of “rushing through the syllabus” and “standing there trying to help them pass their exams” led to the development of an identity of nonparticipation: She did not feel that she was a teacher. It was only through her engagement with the S2 class that she was able to develop a sense of being a teacher, a teacher who had “control” over what she was doing and who helped students to “enjoy the subject.” The conflict that Jean experienced was almost the reverse of that of Maggie and Claire. Her competence in teaching literature, which was developed from her previous teaching experiences, was fully recognized by her mentors and school teachers. She was able to develop a sense of membership in the school community. However, it was criticized by her UT as irrelevant to ESL teaching. Due to the asymmetrical power relationship in the community of practice in the university, pedagogical practices and the meaning of competent ESL teaching as defined by her UT carried a higher currency than those that she constructed for herself and in collaboration with the teachers in her school. The need to align with the meanings of the UT led to

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the development of an identity of nonparticipation in which Jean complied with the UT’s requirements without investing her self in the process, as revealed in what she said in the interview: “If that’s what you want, that’s what I’ll give you.” The lack of coherence between the identities that she developed in the two communities accounted for why her sense of being a teacher was easily undermined as soon as she returned to the university.

Conclusion This chapter examines the nature of ST learning as the development of a professional identity through “legitimate peripheral participation” (Lave & Wenger, 1991) in a community of practice. It chronicles the ways in which the school experience component of an initial teacher training program both facilitated and impeded the participation of STs in communities of practice and analyzes the consequent effects on the their incipient professional identities. In essence, it shows that the processes of professional learning and identity formation are “constituted reciprocally between the affordance of the social practice and how individuals act and come to know in the social practice” (Billett, 2001, p. 432). As such, the school is conceptualized not as a site where STs apply prelearned knowledge but rather as a site of learning, and hence professional identity formation, in its own right. This requires a subsequent shift in the focus of learning theory from the acquisition of skills and knowledge to changing relationships of participation in the world (Wenger, 2005). Note 1. We have had STs being placed in the library and in the odd case even in the medical room.

CHAPTER

4

Mentoring, Learning and Identity Formation TAMMY KWAN, FRAN LOPEZREAL AND AMY B. M. TSUI

Introduction In Chapter 3, we explored student teachers’ (STs’) learning processes as identity formation. From the trajectories of participation of the three STs, Maggie, Claire and Jean, we can see that their identities as teachers were transformed through the relationship that they established with other members of their community of practice, including fellow teachers and students, the new activities in which they participated and new understandings that they acquired. As Lave and Wenger (1991) point out, “learning involves the whole person: it implies not only a relation to specific activities, but a relation to social communities—it implies becoming a full participant, a member, a kind of person. . . . [L]earning involves the construction of identities” (p. 53). This is echoed by Hall (1996a), who points out that identity formation is a “process of becoming rather than being” (p. 4). The focus of Lave and Wenger (1991) is on the learning of apprentices, that is, novices in communities of practices. Many of the subsequent studies in this area have also had this focus. Particularly with respect to teacher education, the emphasis has been on the ST and new teachers. For example, in the literature on how the mentoring experience has affected the two parties concerned, much has been written about its impact on the ST’s identity, whereas little has touched on the formation of the mentor’s identity and their professional learning and development 69

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(Britzman, 1994; Danielewicz, 2001; Johnson, 1992; Johnson, 2003). However, as Lave and Wenger (1991) also point out, as newcomers become full members of a community of practice, this community of practice itself is transformed, resulting in the change of identity of the old-timers. This notion of “co-construction” of identities is further elaborated by Wenger (1998) where he argues that members of a community of practice mutually construct their identities through participation in practice. As Hawkey (1997) points out, since mentors and STs both possess their own identities, when they interact to establish a mentoring relationship each will bring “their individual sets of beliefs, orientations, concerns and pressures to their shared enterprise” which “eventually will ensure that the mentoring relationships are extremely complex” (p. 332). While being aware of this complexity, in this chapter, our focus is specifically on the mentors’ learning within the community of practice as shaped by the mentoring relationship. We consider three cases of mentors’ learning and how their identities are constructed in relation to their mentoring role.

Dimensions of Identity Wenger (1998) focuses on the nature of identity being not only reificative but more importantly participative. He explains as follows: Who we are lies in the way we live day to day, not just in what we think or say about ourselves. . . . Nor does identity consist solely of what others think or say about us. . . . Identity in practice is defined socially not merely because it is reified in a social discourse of the self and of social categories, but also because it is produced as a lived experience of participation in specific communities. What narratives, categories, roles and positions come to mean as an experience of participation is something that must be worked out in practice. (p. 151) Hence, it is through the interplay between our lived experience and the social interpretation of this experience that learning takes place. As Wenger (2000) explains, competence is historically and socially defined in a social learning system. However, knowing is not just displaying the competence defined by a community: Knowing is experiential. The knowing that is personally experienced may not be, and according to Wenger it is usually not, congruent with the knowing that is socially defined. It is in the dynamic interplay between the two that learning happens and identities are constituted.

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Modes of Belonging As pointed out in Chapter 3, social learning systems and identities are shaped by three modes of belonging, namely, engagement, imagination and alignment (Wenger, 1998). These three modes of belonging are elaborated on in a subsequent paper by Wenger (2000) as follows: Engagement is “doing things together, talking, producing artifacts. . . . The ways in which we engage with each other and with the world profoundly shape our experience of who we are. We learn what we can do and how the world responds to our actions.” Imagination is “constructing an image of ourselves, of our communities and of the world in order to orient ourselves, to reflect on our situation, and to explore possibilities. . . . [T]hinking of ourselves as members of a community such as a nation requires an act of imagination because we cannot engage with all our fellow citizens. These images of the world are essential to our sense of self and to our interpretation of our participation in the social world.” Alignment is “making sure that our local activities are sufficiently aligned with other processes that they can be effective beyond our own engagement. The concept of alignment as used here (connotes) a mutual process of coordinating perspectives, interpretations, and actions so they realize higher goals.” (pp. 227–228) Wenger further points out that while these forms of belonging usually coexist, some communities may have one dominant mode of belonging whereas others may have another dominant mode of belonging. For example, in a community of mentors, engagement would be a dominant mode, whereas in a community of teaching professionals, imagination would be a more dominant mode. In Chapter 3, these three modes of belonging were used as a framework for making sense of the learning experience of the three STs in their practicum in partnership schools and the identities so constituted. In the current chapter, we are not simply concerned with exploring the relationship between learning and identity formation but also with the quality of learning and identity constituted. As Wenger (2000) points out: “Our identities are not necessarily strong or healthy. Sometimes they are even self-defeating” (p. 239). A recent example illustrates this point. In their study of trainee lecturers in further education in England, Bathmaker and Avis (2005) found that it was a strong sense of marginalization and alienation from the established community of practice that was the most significant determinant in the formation of their professional identity, which eventually exhibited some very negative characteristics.

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Qualities of a “Healthy” Social Identity The notion of a “healthy” identity that Wenger (2000) proposes is a further development of the notion of identity that he expounded in his earlier work (Wenger, 1998). In his later work, he examines the modes of belonging and their relation to the qualities of the identities formed. In order to try to understand and analyze what constitutes a “healthy social identity,” Wenger (2000) proposes the following three qualities: connectedness,

Table 4.1

Identity Dimensions Connectedness

Expansiveness

Effectiveness

Engagement

Is there a community to engage with? How far back do you go? What kinds of interactions do you have? What do you do together? Do you trust and are you trusted?

Is there enough variety of contexts and identity-forming experiences, such as logging on the Internet and chatting with strangers, going on a blind date, or visiting a foreign country?

Do you have opportunities to develop socially recognized competences by participating in well-established practices? Are your communities ready to embrace your experience into their practices?

Imagination

Do you have good conversations? Do you talk about your deepest aspirations? Do you listen well?

Can you see yourself as a member of large communities, for instance, a world citizen, the heir of long-lived traditions, the pioneer of a world to come?

Do you understand the big picture well enough to act effectively?

Alignment

Do you keep your commitments to your communities? Do you uphold their principles? Do you give and receive feedback?

Do you follow guidelines that align your actions with broader purposes, such as saving energy or recycling for the sake of the planet?

Do you know the regimes of accountability by which your ideas, actions, and requests will be judged? Can you convince others of the potential of a new idea?

Source: Reproduced with permission from Wenger, E., Communities of practice and social learning systems. Organization. (Sage Publications Ltd, 2000), by permission of Sage Publications Ltd.

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expansiveness and effectiveness. His descriptions of these qualities include the following: Connectedness. The question in relation to this quality is whether there are enduring relationships through which an identity gains social depth. Wenger argues that “a strong identity involves deep connections with others through shared histories and experiences, reciprocity, affection, and mutual commitments.” (p. 239) Expansiveness. This quality has to do with breadth and scope of an identity. A healthy identity will be open to a wide range of experiences through being involved in multiple communities and in boundary crossing. Effectiveness. The question in relation to this quality is whether or not an identity is enabling participation in the social world. “A healthy identity is socially empowering rather than marginalizing.” (p. 240) Wenger combines these qualities with the three modes of belonging into a matrix and suggests the way in which each mode of belonging contributes to the three qualities and can be explored (see Table 4.1). In the following sections we shall consider three cases of mentors’ experiences in the school-university partnership scheme and attempt to explore the formation of their mentor identities through this framework. During the practicum supervision in the academic year of 2003–2004, mentor teachers (MTs) were invited to engage in an in-depth reflective interview to take place after the practicum period. This allowed ample time for the participating MTs to engage in a comprehensive reflection of the mentoring process over the whole period. Eventually, four MTs volunteered to be interviewed. An interview protocol was drafted eliciting data with regard to two key issues. First, the MT was asked about his or her perceived role as a mentor and how this perception of role was acquired or changed during the process of mentoring. Second, the MT was asked, based on the MT’s personal past and present experience, how his or her belonging to certain groups or communities has an impact on learning for MTs and STs. The protocol was trialed and revised with the first MT. During the interview, one author acted as the interviewer while another author observed and recorded the significant points of the discussion and made notes on the robustness of the interview protocol. Immediately after the first interview, two of the authors clarified the interview protocol, and this was used for interviews with the other three MTs. Two MTs were working as a team with other colleagues, so in these cases a group interview was conducted. Each interview lasted from 45 to 60 minutes.

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The interviews were transcribed and the transcriptions were read a number of times by the authors, and data which threw light on the three modes of belonging and the three qualities of identity were extracted. The analyses independently conducted by the two authors were compared and revised until a consensual understanding of the data was reached. Among the four cases studied, two of the mentors had very similar backgrounds and comparable experiences, in that they both worked closely with other colleagues in mentoring and their respective STs were also quite proactive in seeking advice from the mentors and in volunteering their own ideas. As a result, it was decided that it was only necessary for three cases, with distinctive patterns of learning and identity formation, to be reported in this chapter.

Case 1: Shirley Communities of Practice and Professional Relationships in Shirley’s World At the time of the study, Shirley had been teaching in a secondary school for six years, where her main teaching subject was Geography but she also taught Computer Studies. According to Shirley, her learning experiences during her own school days were rather isolated. She felt she was on her own and had to make progress through individual effort. However, at the university, she encountered collaborative learning for the first time, with which she felt very comfortable. Her understanding of collaborative learning was further strengthened when she later studied for a master’s degree at the university. A group of seven students in the master’s course decided that they could share the reading of recommended references by each taking one or two articles, making notes, jotting down ideas and discussing the work they had done. Th is was a spontaneous grouping with fluid membership initially, and willingness to share one’s efforts and ideas appeared to have been the fundamental basis on which the group was formed. Subsequently, this community was maintained beyond its initial raison d’être of working together in the master’s program and became a self-sustaining group of teachers concerned with helping each other develop professionally. When Shirley started teaching she found the culture of the school, as she perceived it, oriented to “individual work” and, as such, not conducive to her professional development. Although there was some sharing of materials, for example, worksheets, there was no discussion or collaboration in the design. One of the factors that appeared to have prevented mutual engagement was the asymmetrical power relationship within the subject teaching

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group. She described her relationship with the head of the subject panel (i.e., subject department) thus: I feel there is a pressure as he may be in a high position and he may have a severe look so that you are a bit scared. I mean, I’d like to talk with him but . . . there is worry and fear in my heart. This asymmetrical power relationship not only was found within the subject panel but clearly permeated down from the top administration to the different levels in the hierarchy: I mean, you can feel it. For instance, sometimes a meeting is held by the panel head and there are lots of student-related issues we ordinary teachers ought to know, but he covers those up from you and . . . I don’t feel good about that. . . . A lot of things come down level by level; they actually come from the highest level. . . . I mean they go down many levels before getting to the panel head. So it’s possible the panel head only knows partially, while people on top know more and we know less. Shirley’s sense of frustration was palpable, and it was clear that the lack of access to information that was pertinent and important to the work of a teacher was one of the reasons for her lack of identification with the school. An asymmetrical institutional power relationship, however, does not necessarily prevent sharing and collaboration. This can be seen from Shirley’s comment on a pastoral group to which she belonged within the school: There may not necessarily be equal status [within a group]. I think it depends on whether there exists the heart to talk. I mean, say, I work on counseling . . . and I’m very happy in this group. My boss [presumably the head of the pastoral group] often discusses many things with me . . . and it feels that he really wants to ask for your opinion and you would feel great because, although your suggestions may not be used . . . I think it is the appreciation. Obviously he is a senior but he never stresses his senior rank. Shirley also developed a close working relationship with another member of the staff who taught her second subject, Computer Studies. Not only did they prepare notes together but they also cotaught some of the classes. They had responsibility for teaching all the Secondary Two (Grade 8) classes and Shirley referred to their joint set of notes, developed over a few years, as their “masterpiece.” When a certain way of teaching did not quite work they would discuss it and solve the problem together. We now have a picture of the communities of practice in which Shirley participated and the professional relationships that she had formed in her

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working life. She was not only a member of the community of practice of her school, but also a member of the communities of practice of the Geography subject panel, the pastoral group, and the support group arising from MEd study, respectively. She also formed a close professional relationship with a computer studies teacher. These memberships and relationships contributed to the development of her identity as a mentor in different ways. Shirley as Mentor In her sixth year of teaching Shirley was asked to act as a mentor for an ST, Rachel. Although the school had offered teaching practice placements for STs in the past, this was the first year they had taken a student from the university, and it is clear from Shirley’s comments that she felt there was no established mentoring practice in her school that she could fall back on for advice. She had to struggle, as an individual, to play out her mentor role. Although other teachers were obviously aware of the presence of an ST, their main involvement appeared to be limited to helping with discipline problems that might arise: In short, the Principal just told me “You take care of her [Rachel] and I pass the whole responsibility on to you.” Sharing with other colleagues . . . that’s rare. It seldom happens. They know there is a student teacher and in fact, they are quite helpful if she has any discipline problems. But practically, inside the classroom, the teaching skills . . . we [Shirley and Rachel] are alone. In trying to forge an effective mentoring relationship, Shirley constantly returned to what she saw as the central dilemma of mentoring, that is, the balance between leading, imposing frameworks, acting as a role model and allowing the ST to develop her own approach to teaching. Because of her junior position in the school she found it difficult to lead. To create an equal power relationship, she invited Rachel to address her by her first name but Rachel persisted in calling her “Miss.” She was worried that if she gave too much guidance to Rachel, she might straitjacket her. At one stage, she was horrified by how far Rachel had become her “clone.” As she put it: It was like seeing a copied version of me standing there. I felt “My God, she resembles me so much!” To resolve her mentoring dilemma, she turned to her MEd “support group” for advice. One of the group members talked about his similar earlier experience and suggested that Shirley should encourage Rachel to try out her own ideas and that she should try to build up her confidence when giving advice to her.

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Shirley subsequently acted on the advice when she found Rachel very unhappy after a lesson. She began by sharing with her the unhappy experiences she herself had at an early stage of her teaching career and how she overcame them. By exposing and discussing her own vulnerabilities, rather than immediately trying to tackle Rachel’s difficulties, she attempted to offer advice on an equal footing. Nevertheless, in terms of their overall relationship with one another, Shirley continued to be in two minds: Sometimes I feel we have a close bonding and sometimes we are individuals. Her use of the word “individuals” in contrast to “close bonding” suggested that she was using it in a slightly negative sense, perhaps implying a lack of genuine collaboration and sharing. Another avenue for learning within the mentoring process occurred when Rachel was visited and observed by a university tutor (UT) and Shirley joined the post-lesson conference. However, it is interesting to note the kind of things that she highlighted: I could sometimes learn from their [the tutors’] comments, like you would know what to praise and what is bad. . . . I may think “Ah, this is good. Do I do this? I did it before but do I do it now?” The advice from the tutor to the student teacher is also a piece of advice to me. While Shirley clearly took on board the teaching suggestions of the UT, there was little sense of a shared discussion that included Shirley’s own ideas. Instead, there was a sense of deference toward the “superior” UT. With all the foregoing comments, including those in the previous section, we can build up a picture of the emergence of Shirley’s identity as a mentor and the contributing factors. Her descriptions of those professional contexts in which she felt comfortable (i.e., support group, Computer Studies group, counseling group) are characterized by the willingness of members to share, to discuss, to collaborate to achieve common goals or to engage in a joint enterprise and to feel that they are equal partners (even though some may have ostensibly higher “status”). One can only assume that this was what she would have liked to have achieved in her new mentoring role. However, it is clear that she found this very difficult to accomplish and we can identify some of the likely reasons. First, there was no existing community of practice for mentoring within the school in which Shirley could participate and from which she could seek help. The contributions of other staff were seemingly limited to the alignment of the ST’s practices with the norms regarding discipline in the school. Shirley had to establish an effective mentoring practice on her own.

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Second, the hierarchical culture of the school might have had a pervasive influence on the mentoring relationship Shirley was trying to establish, even though she might not have been fully aware of it. Shirley saw herself as “junior” within the school and therefore in a difficult position as regards “leadership.” The ST deferred to Shirley, beyond what Shirley wanted in terms of a mentoring relationship. And Shirley in turn deferred to the UT, perhaps because the UT was one of her own teachers at the university. None of this was conducive to the development of the kind of relationship that Shirley had described with respect to her work with her Computer Studies partner.

Case 2: Alicia Experiences in Her First School Alicia was made head of the Mathematics Panel (equivalent to a Mathematics department in a school in the United Kingdom or the United States) after three years in the school despite her relative youth compared to more experienced colleagues. Her students had consistently attained fairly good results in public examinations and she felt that the school’s culture did not put her under undue pressure. Alicia began acting as a mentor in her sixth year of teaching. She was invited by a UT to mentor an ST—Katrina—largely because of her willingness to try out innovative teaching approaches and strategies. She was the only teacher in the school asked to undertake this responsibility. In overseeing curriculum matters of her panel and dealing with colleagues more experienced than herself, Alicia never felt at ease about her status as panel head and hence avoided using an “authoritarian” or “topdown” approach. She held the belief that only through doing things herself and setting an example for colleagues to follow could she convince them to try out new ideas. When she began mentoring, Alicia did not see herself as an authority figure either. She adopted a similar role-model approach as she did with colleagues on her panel. Her comments below illustrate this “hands off ” approach: I call myself a kind of “liberal” mentor. I don’t like to ask people to do this and that. I think every one of us must have our own views on being a teacher. So the most effective way for me to help Katrina in developing her professional knowledge was to show her how I actually worked in my school. So ultimately, I could help her, but in an indirect way. Actually before Katrina started to do her practicum, we had a brief sharing about . . . our expectations to be working partners. She

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gave me the impression that she was eager to learn and would welcome suggestions from me. However, I didn’t want to force her to take my advice . . . I hoped I could give her an opportunity to opt whether or not she would like to try my suggestions. In this regard, I saw myself as being a critical friend to Katrina while I acted as a role-model to help her make decisions. We can see from Alicia’s use of the expressions “working partners,” “making suggestions,” “opportunity to opt” and “being a critical friend” that she considered it inappropriate to impose her own teaching approach on Katrina. However, Alicia was also aware that there were day-to-day crises that might demand immediate attention or action from Katrina. From her own experience of handling them, she knew there would be frustration, apprehension and stress. Hence, when crises occurred, she was particularly sensitive to Katrina’s feelings and she saw herself acting as a counselor to support Katrina. She maintained that the counseling role also helped her to develop rapport between Katrina and herself. A Change of School After eight years, Alicia left her first school and joined a new school in which the principal had great power and authority to decide on school policies and school-based curriculum and assessment. Alicia was appointed head of the Mathematics Panel and working with her were several beginning teachers in their first year of teaching. Due to the prestige that this new school enjoyed, teachers were constantly put under microscopic inspection by outside visitors and external experts to see how good teaching and meaningful learning took place in the school. As a result, Alicia felt great responsibility for quality assurance in terms of school-based curriculum design, classroom teaching and learning resource production of her panel. In her first year of mentoring the beginning teachers, she initially saw herself as a role model, critical friend and counselor, as in her previous experience. However, during the process of mentoring she came to feel that such an approach required a shared understanding of expectations from the mentees as well. Unfortunately, with one beginning teacher, Michael, this approach did not work out. He appeared to respond slowly to her suggestions and to show little progress in his professional development. In Alicia’s view, he was unable to meet the school’s expectations. She found herself being stricter and stricter with Michael and eventually she had to give him very clear instructions to ensure he could do the minimum required. Her frustration is revealed in the following comment: In fact, sometimes I feel a bit angry with him. . . . [W]ith all these “unpleasant” experiences, I can see I have shifted from being a

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mentor who prefers helping mentees indirectly towards achieving autonomy to becoming a strict instructor, a manager, an assessor and a quality controller, which I regard as basic and low-level “managerial” roles. This shift in mentoring role indicates a tension in the mentoring relationship between the mentor and the mentee. Alicia felt that she had to adopt different approaches and perform different roles according to the characteristics of the mentees. She summarized her considerations for shifting her roles as depending on the following: • The abilities of the mentees (by observing their preparatory planning work, by observing their teaching effectiveness and by holding daily sharing or discussion) • The working styles of the mentees (by looking at their readiness to take responsibility for designing new teaching topics) • The professional attitudes of the mentees (by looking at their willingness to accept the mentor as a critical friend so that constructive interaction could occur) One can see here a strong emphasis on the dispositions of the mentee as a factor that shaped the kind of working relationship Alicia had envisaged in mentoring. However, it is also clear that alignment with school standards and expectations played a crucial role in her relationship with mentees, particularly with Michael. In a new prestigious school, with great expectations on all teachers from the principal and the parents, she was concerned about upholding these expectations. When a beginning teacher under her responsibility had not been able to demonstrate any kind of initiative and receptivity to suggestions or produce quality teaching ideas and resources, Alicia gradually changed to assert a more authoritative role and issued “expectations,” “instructions” and “standards” to be followed.

Case 3: Kerry (with Barry and Fanny) This third case is Kerry working with two colleagues, Barry and Fanny, from the same Humanities Panel, to mentor Sandy. Kerry was the officially assigned mentor of Sandy and she took over classes mainly from Kerry. However, she also taught some lessons from Barry and Fanny. Thus, they all took on some responsibility for mentoring Sandy. The school was relatively young, having been established for just five years at the time of the study. The three mentors concurred that the school principal was open minded and democratic and that she allowed teachers to express opinions

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and be involved in joint decision making. As a result, the teachers in the school were very used to working together, taking initiatives and conveying their views and opinions to the school authority. In describing the school culture, Kerry commented: The working atmosphere here is nice and warm and that’s because of the Principal. Here we often work by discussion. It does not mean our world is perfect here. But the school respects teachers and emphasizes a teamwork spirit very much, so that we discuss everything we do. Without the agreement of the teachers, things cannot be carried out easily. It allows us to have ownership over what we decide and hence everyone is willing to participate. Whenever you encounter problems you feel that you don’t need to deal with that alone and your success would depend on others’ help. I’m absolutely not considering this as high-sounding, like government official statements. These are my true feelings. The culture of working together had a significant effect on Kerry and the other two teachers’ perceptions of the school as a “democratic” environment. They did not deny that there were authority figures, or leaders, within the institution, but because of this culture these leaders did not appear to emphasize their position in the school hierarchy and there was little sense of an overt hierarchy in the system. As Kerry put it: There are some people here who are considered as leaders by everyone. But they would not dominate the talk. Even if you are the one in charge of an issue, the atmosphere here doesn’t permit you to dictate. For instance, the head of our self-evaluation group was the Principal but I found that the teachers very actively participated in expressing opinions. They would never merely say “yes” to the Principal’s opinions. This school culture appeared to have created a strong influence on the way that teachers committed themselves to work with new members, such as new teachers and the STs placed in the school for their practicum, as pointed out by Fanny: Because we do a lot of things together, such as group lesson preparation and other things, we act together. I think it is this atmosphere and culture of collegiality that enables even the newcomers to merge easily into our group setting and work with us together. Apart from the culture of the school, Kerry claimed that his own personality may have been a factor contributing to the easy assimilation of new members, or STs, into the school:

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I think another factor is that many teachers here are very young. Well, except me. But I have a young heart, I’m playful, friendly. I make friends with everyone and I’m easy-going. This helps to explain why Sandy, the ST, found herself adapting so quickly and feeling that she had become a member of the school soon after she commenced the practicum there. However, her mentors argued that it might also have been very much related to her own outgoing personality, being willing to take the initiative to ask questions and to seek advice from them. Her outgoing personality fitted in well, not only with the culture of the school but also with the way the mentors wanted to work with her. This helped Sandy to feel at ease in becoming a member of the Humanities Panel and subsequently a member of the whole school. Kerry commented: We forgot to mention Sandy’s personal attributes. This also leads to her happiness since she is willing to share, to be responsible and to seek advice sincerely and politely. Although I am her mentor, I think she is more caring of me than I am of her. This was echoed by Barry: Actually, for a teacher, be he a newly qualified teacher or a student teacher, if he is relatively passive, he will have difficulty joining the circles. Sandy took the initiative in asking for guidance. And it turned out that she was friendlier than we were. When we still considered her as a newcomer and a stranger, she had already made us feel at ease and our collaboration was more cheerful. When the three MTs were interviewed about their collaboration with Sandy, all of them emphasized the idea of learning together and the fact that they could benefit from Sandy’s ideas as much as Sandy could benefit from theirs. Kerry commented: We have a lot of administration and lesson preparation to do. We don’t know if we want to try things out even if we can think of the idea. But Sandy came in and began developing her relationship with the pupils and she was not afraid of trying out things. Whether they turned out to be successful or not is another matter. But in our co-operation, her new ideas may strike us like “Oh, we can work that out this way!” The MTs even commented on Sandy’s performing a “jelling” effect by bringing in new teaching ideas that they could all discuss. Despite the fact that there were areas in which she needed to improve (for instance, class-

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room management), her ideas for helping pupils to understand some abstract and difficult geographical concepts impressed the MTs. They found Sandy a “working partner” from whom they could learn about teaching. It was through this colearning of teaching ideas that the mentoring relationship was strengthened and sustained. We can identify two factors from this case that appeared to have enabled the mentoring process to function effectively: 1. The school culture was open and democratic, and all members of the community actively participated in the enterprise, which resulted in the recognition of each other’s competence as valued. 2. The community members were mutually engaged. The ST was not afraid to actively seek advice and suggest her own ideas and the MTs were ready to provide advice and welcome new ideas. There was a recognition that they could learn from one another. In other words, the mentors and mentee were mutually engaged in pedagogical inquiry with no meanings carry ing higher currency than others. When asked what a mentor should provide to an ST, all three MTs stressed the importance of giving “support” to Sandy in such a way as to enable her to construct her own style of teaching. They all rejected the idea of “cloning” Sandy to be like one of them. They were prepared to allow Sandy to adopt a different “decision” even if they foresaw chances of failure, though they admitted this had not actually happened during their mentoring process. Kerry’s comments reflect the views of all three mentors: She has to work to develop her strengths and make her own style. We will express our views, but if she does not believe in what we ask her to do, the outcome will definitely not be good. If we can convince her and she really buys that, then she will do it. It is clear that the MTs perceived their role to be supportive rather than managerial. They also stressed the importance of building relations rather than providing merely pragmatic pedagogical instructions (Kwan & Lopez-Real, 2005). This perception of their role was likely to have contributed positively to the forming of deep connections within the mentoring community. All three MTs indicated that they had tended to adopt the role of an adviser when the ST first joined the school. However, subsequently, their relationship with the mentee changed to that of an equal partner or a critical friend in keeping with the school culture. From the above data, we can see that though Kerry was Sandy’s official mentor, Barry and Fanny contributed to the mentoring process, and they all adopted a similar approach.

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Modes of Belonging and Qualities of Learning and Identity As pointed out in at the beginning of this chapter, identity is not only reificative but also participative (see also Chapter 3). “It is the lived experience of participation in specific communities” through which identities are formed (Wenger, 1998, p. 151). In the three cases presented in this chapter, engagement of the mentors with their mentees and with other members of their community was the dominant mode of belonging in their communities. In the second and third cases, there was an interplay between engagement and alignment. Although the concept of alignment is a two-way process in which perspectives and actions are coordinated to realize higher goals (Wenger, 2000), the enactment of alignment could be persuasive or coercive, as we pointed out before (Wenger, 1998). Each mode of belonging requires a different kind of work. Engagement requires affordances for joint activities and alignment requires being able to perceive shared goals in these activities. It is the way members participate (or not) in joint enterprises, the way alignment is being achieved, that is, whether by persuasion or coercion, and the interplay between the two that determines whether members of a community of practice feel deeply connected to other members of their community (connectedness), whether they are able to orient themselves to wider communities (expansiveness) and whether the lived experience is empowering or marginalizing (effectiveness). Power Relations, Engagement and Alignment In the case of Shirley, there were two diametrically opposed forces at work in the formation of her identity as a teacher in her school. On the one hand, the asymmetrical power relationship between her and her Geography Panel head did not afford engagement that made her feel deeply connected to him. She wanted to talk to him but was worried and afraid of him. Similarly, the hierarchical relationship between the school management and the teachers that contributed to the lack of access to the shared repertoire of the school hindered her development of social competence recognized by the management. As Wenger (2000, p. 229) points out, “To be competent is to have access to this [shared] repertoire and be able to use it appropriately.” Th is led to the development of an identity of alienation and marginalization. On the other hand, in the same school, she was able to engage fully with the pastoral group and the Computer Studies teacher. Not only did she have access to the shared repertoire, she also contributed to it. She proudly referred to the materials that she produced with the Computer Studies teacher as their “masterpiece.” In other words, she was able to develop socially recognized competence and her skills were embraced and incorporated into the practice of these

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teachers. The lived experience of engagement with these colleagues was empowering and fostered deep connections between her and her colleagues. Her boundary engagement with a community outside the school, that is, the MEd group, afforded expansive learning; it provided access to mentoring practice that was not part of the shared repertoire of her school and afforded opportunities for her to develop competence in mentoring. In the second case, Alicia was not under any pressure to align with the goals set by the school administration. Engagement was the dominant mode of belonging in her school and in the way she managed her subject panel. In playing her role as a mentor, she had the autonomy to define the meaning of a mentor, and she decided that being a role model was the most effective form of mentoring. In other words, alignment was being achieved by persuasion and inspiration rather than by coercion, and it involved a two-way process in which meaning was negotiated rather than a one-way process. The positive response from her mentee, Katrina, reinforced the mentoring identity that she had formed from working with her colleagues. She felt deeply connected with her colleagues as well as her mentee. However, in the second school where power was much more centralized, and the school’s academic performance was under public scrutiny, alignment was the dominant mode of belonging. Alicia was put in a position where she herself had to align with the goals of the school by ensuring that all staff members under her supervision, including her mentee, Michael, met the required standards. This, coupled with the mentee’s poor response to her mentoring, led to her adopting a managerial mentoring role in which alignment was typified by a one-way process of coercion. The mentoring identity that was formed was characterized by a sense of alienation between herself and her mentee and a lack of expansive learning both on her part and her mentee’s part. In the third case involving Kerry working closely with two other colleagues in mentoring Sandy, the symmetrical power relationship between the MTs and the ST and their mutual engagement contributed significantly to the development of a strong “healthy” mentor identity. The MTs and the ST were deeply connected and their learning was expansive in that new possibilities were opened up by “doing a lot of things together” and “act(ing) together.” There was legitimate access to participation and the shared repertoire by newcomers and old-timers alike. The ST had plenty of opportunities to acquire competence that was socially recognized by the mentors and her experience was embraced by the MTs into their practice. Alignment was characterized by a two-way process, unlike Alicia’s second school as we have seen. As Kerry explained, the teachers never just submitted to the principal’s and the leaders’ will. “Without the agreement of the teachers,

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things cannot be carried out easily.” The principal’s and leader’s meanings did not carry higher currency than those of other teachers. Wenger (2000, p. 228) points out that “each mode [of belonging] contributes a different aspect to the formation of social learning systems and personal identities.” Hence, a community where mutual engagement and two-way alignment were the dominant modes of belonging contributed significantly to the formation of the mentors’ (and the mentee’s) identities characterized by connectedness, expansiveness and effectiveness. Social Competence and Lived Experience Wenger (2000) points out that competence is historically and socially defined but our experience of competence may not be, and often is not, congruent with what was socially defined. He argues that it is in the interplay between competence and experience that learning takes place. We may bring our experience in line with socially defined competence, in which case learning in the sense of personal transformation takes place. However, we may also try to align the way competence is defined with our lived experience, in which case learning, in the sense of transformation of social structures, happens. In the studies reported in this chapter, there were cases where social competence was congruent with lived experience but there were also cases where they were not; the qualities of the identities so constituted were different. Although mentoring was not an established practice in Shirley’s school, the teacher identity that Shirley developed through her lived experience of engaging with the pastoral group and the Computer Studies teacher apparently contributed to the way she played out her role of a mentor as a role model. As Wenger (2000) points out, we carry our identities with us; they are not something we can switch on and off. Hence, Shirley tried to foster an egalitarian relationship with her mentee, Rachel. This was done with some difficulty because of the asymmetrical power relationship she experienced with the school administration. Both experiences contributed to Shirley’s dilemma of being a role model for Rachel, consequently “cloning” her and helping her to develop professional autonomy. It was in the process of dealing with the tension between the social competence that was defined by that community and her lived experience of mentoring that she learned to be a mentor. As Wenger (2000, p. 227) points out, “Competence and experience can be in various relations to each other—from very congruent to very divergent. . . . [W]henever the two are in close tension and either starts pulling the other, learning takes place.” In the case of Alicia, the relation between competence and experience was congruent in the first school but divergent in the second school. In her first school, the reification of her role as a panel head and the power that

Mentoring, Learning and Identity Formation • 87

was entailed despite her youth and relative lack of experience contributed significantly to her teacher identity formation. She did not feel she had the authority to direct what other teachers should do and therefore she could only “direct” by doing it herself.1 Her experience as a young panel head shaped her mentoring role as a role model and a critical friend, and her lived experience of mentoring Katrina contributed to her adoption of the role of a counselor. The social competence that she developed as a mentor to her colleagues was congruent with her lived experience as a mentor. The engagement with her mentee enabled her to develop a strong identity of connectedness and effectiveness. As Wenger (2000, p. 239) observes, “our identities combine competence and experience into a way of knowing. They are the key to decide what matters and what does not, with whom we identify and whom we trust, and with whom we must share what we understand.” However, in the second school, as we have pointed out, because alignment was the dominant mode of belonging, the competence that Alicia developed as a result of her lived experience of mentoring her colleagues and Katrina in the first school where engagement was the dominant of belonging was challenged. Alicia’s competence in mentoring was in conflict with her lived experience of mentoring her mentee, Michael, who had difficulty aligning with the institutional goals and norms. This conflict contributed to Alicia’s adopting a mentoring role that was managerial, directive and evaluative in order to coerce Michael to align his practice with institutional practice, despite the fact that she considered this role “basic” and “low-level.” This lived experience contributed to a mentoring identity characterized by alienation and ineffectiveness. Multiple Identities Wenger refers to “fractal structures” of large communities in which are embedded subcommunities (2000, pp. 242–243) and suggests that active local engagement with these subcommunities often enables members to experience their belonging to a broader community and is a source of identification. In the case of Shirley, we have an interesting situation in which she developed a “healthy” identity with some subcommunities (e.g., pastoral group) but not with others (e.g., Geography Panel). More important, such local engagement did not seem to have strengthened her identity as a member of the larger community of the school. If anything, the connectedness that she felt with the pastoral group and the Computer Studies teacher might have made her even more aware of her identity of marginalization in the larger school community. In other words, the conflicting identities of participation (and connectedness) and marginalization or alienation were simultaneously held by Shirley. As mentioned earlier,

88 • Tammy Kwan, Fran Lopez-Real and Amy B. M. Tsui

we cannot just switch on and off identities. Therefore, in the case of Alicia, the mentor identity that she developed in the first school could well have been simultaneously held as her new mentor identity emerged. Research on teacher identity has pointed out that identities are not unitary but multiple or multifaceted. There are, however, opposing views regarding whether these multiple identities or “sub-identities” (Mishler, 1999, p. 8) should or could be “harmonized” and “well balanced” (Beijaard, Meijer, & Verloop, 2004, p. 122) or whether the construction of identity is a “continuing site of struggle” between confl icting identities (MacLure, 1993, p. 313; see also Samuel & Stephens, 2000). The cases in this study showed that identities are multiple and not necessarily congruent. It is in the process of living with and living out the dilemmas and conflicts that learning takes place.

Conclusion In this chapter, we examined mentors’ learning as a social process in which social identities are constituted. Drawing on Wenger’s framework on modes of belonging in social learning systems, we looked at three cases of mentoring in partnership schools. We have seen that modes of belonging in a community contributed significantly to the qualities of the identity formed. Wenger (2000) points out that these modes of belonging coexist in all communities of practice in varying combinations and that it is the dominant mode of belonging that accords a different quality to a social structure. What emerged from the interrogation of three cases in this chapter is that these modes of belonging (or the lived experience of these modes of belonging) could be positive or negative. We have seen that, in Alicia’s case, coercive alignment can lead to alienation, whereas in the case of Kerry and his colleagues, Barry and Fanny, alignment achieved by persuasion, negotiation and inspiration can lead to empowerment and the development of a “strong healthy identity.” These modes also interact in different ways, resulting in different qualities of learning. Engagement coupled with coercive alignment can lead to ineffectiveness, whereas engagement coupled with persuasive alignment can lead to expansive learning. Similarly, engagement that involves boundary crossing can lead to expansive learning, whereas engagement with no connection with the wider community could lead to insularity. Permeating these modes of belonging are power relations which contribute significantly to the affordances for learning and hence the qualities of identities so constituted. Finally, identities are not unitary but multiple or multifaceted and they do not necessarily coexist in

Mentoring, Learning and Identity Formation • 89

harmony. It is in the course of grappling with identity conflicts that learning takes place.

Note 1. Th is approach is particularly relevant in Chinese culture, where age and experience are important indicators of seniority and where a great deal of importance is attached to the motto “Action speaks louder than words,” particularly for those who are relatively ju nior.

CHAPTER

5

Tripartite Conferences Positioning and Activity Systems FRAN LOPEZREAL, DORIS LAW AND ROSINA TANG

Introduction A fundamental premise underlying the concept of school-university partnerships in teacher education is that the development of the student teacher (ST) toward becoming a professional is a joint enterprise of schools and teacher education providers and that the mentor teachers (MTs) working in a par tic u lar school, the STs assigned to that school and the university tutors (UTs) supervising those STs should be working together. Such mutual engagement may take a number of forms, including negotiating and establishing expectations (in written and oral communication) and regular interaction between all the participants concerning progress. In par tic u lar, this may also include the discussion, observation and evaluation of an ST’s lessons. The extent to which this is done may vary considerably in different school-university partnerships and indeed, in some partnerships, the lesson observation and subsequent feedback may be exclusively handled by the school MTs. In the University of Hong Kong (HKU) school-partnership scheme, the three-way discussion after the lesson observation of an ST by the ST, MT and UT is known as a tripartite conference. It is considered a critical element in which mutual engagement is explicitly realized in a 90

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highly intensive form. Therefore, encouraging such conferencing has been an important element of the partnership scheme since its inception. This emphasis is made evident in the written communications between the university and the schools (in the form of the Teaching Practice Handbook) and in the Mentoring Workshops conducted each year by the university. For example, the handbook provides detailed suggestions to all three participants on how to get the most out of tripartite conferences. This advice includes examples of the type of questions that might be asked of the ST, in order that he or she might ref lect more effectively on the lesson. Specific suggestions are also given to the MTs and UTs on the manner of asking questions and discussing classroom events in order to “facilitate open, genuine, comfortable and constructive communication” (Faculty of Education, 2005, p. 18). In the “ideal” situation, it is envisaged that a tripartite conference will take place on every occasion that a UT visits an ST. That is, a time will be set aside immediately after the lesson has been observed for all three participants to sit down and reflect on the lesson. As can be seen from the above description of the handbook advice, the emphasis is on a supportive but at the same time critically evaluative approach. The handbook’s contents and advice, together with the mentoring workshops, thus form part of the repertoire of the community of practice of the partnership and the negotiation of meanings related to mentoring the ST. In the study on which much of this chapter is based, we looked at the perceptions of members of the three stakeholder groups involved in the activity of tripartite conferencing, where the principles and meaning of mentoring are enacted. Their views were elicited through the distribution of free-response questionnaires, and the quantitative data from the feedback are shown in Table 5.1.

Table 5.1 Distribution of Questionnaires and Response Rates ND

NR

% (ND /NR)

NT

% (NT/ NR)

Student Teachers

216

186

86

97

52

Mentor Teachers

172

95

55

43

45

University Tutors

20

13

65

13

100

ND = Number of questionnaires distributed NR = Number of respondents NT = Number of respondents who had experienced tripartite conferences

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The items in the questionnaires were almost identical for the STs, MTs and UTs and, for the purposes of the data we were interested in, classified into groupings with the following foci: 1. The value of tripartite conferences and any problematic aspects 2. Comparison of tripartite and dual conferences; advantages and disadvantages of each 3. Perception of roles in tripartite conferences compared to dual conferences 4. The distribution of contributions of each participant to tripartite conferences Although the stakeholders in a community of practice may ostensibly have a shared understanding of the purpose and processes of the enterprise in which they are engaged (in this case, the professional development and mentoring of the STs), it is likely that their perceptions of specific elements within this enterprise will vary. The questionnaire analysis discussed below helps us appreciate the diversity of such different perceptions, both between the three stakeholder groups and indeed between the individuals within a stakeholder group. Th is gives us a “broad brush” picture of stakeholder perceptions. In a later section of this chapter we shall discuss and analyze in more detail the nature of the contributions made within a sequence of tripartite conferences between the same three participants.

Stakeholder Perceptions about Tripartite Conferences Value and Problematic Aspects of Tripartite Conferences With very few exceptions, nearly all of the STs, MTs and UTs claimed to find tripartite conferences valuable, and their reasons were also very consistent: They all valued the opportunity to share their experiences, in terms of their different perspectives and interpretations of events in the lesson, which could give rise to some fruitful discussion and subsequent advice for the ST concerned. The following comment from an ST is fairly typical: Sharing ideas is the most important thing in learning. Different teachers have different teaching experiences about a topic, so I can choose the most appropriate teaching strategy after listening to their opinions. However, when enlarging on their views of the value of tripartite conferences, some additional elements begin to emerge, specific to each participant’s perceived role in the process. For example, many of the MTs

Tripartite Conferences • 93

claimed that it was also useful for their own professional development since they could learn from the UT’s comments. This learning could be concerned with the pedagogy of the lesson but might also be related to learning about the process of mentoring, in terms of how to ask questions with the purpose of encouraging the ST to be critically reflective. Another commonly expressed view by the MTs is typified in this comment: For me, when the university tutor makes comments that are the same as mine, my opinions can be justified and made more objective. There is a sense in the above statement of the UT being seen as an “authority” figure who is somehow validating the views of the MT. Agreement not only “justifies” the MT’s views but also presumably transforms them from being merely “subjective” to having a more acceptable “objective” status. This is despite the fact that some of the MTs had more years of classroom teaching experience than the UT, and, of course, they all had more recent experience. In a broader context, such comments also raise questions concerning the power relationships within a tripartite conference and who is perceived to be “in control” of proceedings. As we shall see, this aspect was a recurring, underlying theme in many of the responses of all three stakeholder groups. Some UTs clearly shared the view that the MTs could learn from them, particularly (and perhaps reasonably) with regard to MTs who were new to the role. As one UT commented: It can be a professional opportunity for fresh mentors to observe and experience how to conduct a lesson debriefing conference, key areas to look for to give comments and not just pick on superficial aspects of a lesson. Nevertheless, many of the UTs were conscious of the fact that MTs often saw themselves as taking a secondary role when the tutor was present and were unhappy about this perceived lack of equal status. As one forcibly put it: I wish mentors would treat me less like God and be more ready to challenge and discuss instead of listening. One does not doubt the sincerity and honesty of this comment, but again we may wonder how such deference, on the part of the MTs, originates in the first place. One can certainly envisage that, in part, it may well arise from the behavior and attitudes of UTs that the MTs have experienced in the past. It is also partly, if not mainly, shaped by the social organization of power—that universities are accorded higher social status than schools.

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Although the perception of MTs being somewhat deferential toward UTs was evident in many of the comments of both UTs and MTs, there were examples where this was not the case. One such quote, from a UT, illustrates this point: It [the tripartite conference] allows the mentor to challenge some of my ideas, which student teachers are not ready to do. It also gives us [UTs] insight into what is seen as important by experienced classroom teachers and university tutors could learn from them. Here we have the complementary view to that expressed by MTs earlier, whereby the UT acknowledges the possibility of learning from the mentor. This suggests a genuine mutual engagement in the process of mentoring in which meanings of teaching are open to negotiation rather than defined by any one party. Each participant brings to the conference different perspectives and expertise which are valued and no meaning defined by one party has a higher currency than that defined by other parties. Notwithstanding these perceptions of learning from each other, expressed by both MTs and UTs, there was no indication in any of the comments that the STs may contribute to this mutual learning. That is, the ST is seen as learning from the UT and the MT, and not vice-versa. This may seem a “natural” state of affairs in the context of tripartite conferences, whose ostensible purpose is to help the STs reflect on their lessons. This contrasts with the findings reported in Chapter 4 in which we have seen clear examples of MTs learning from STs (see also Lopez-Real & Kwan, 2005). It appears, then, that the notion of equal partners, in the sense of equal importance and equal participation, may be somewhat diminished within the tripartite conference. This would be something of an irony given that this is the main opportunity for mutual engagement in the enterprise of professional development to take place. Another aspect of tripartite conferences that was commonly valued by the UTs was the opportunity they afforded to learn more about the specific context that the ST was working in. This was also emphasized by the MTs, who welcomed the opportunity to explain the school’s values, learning philosophy, procedures, and other features of the school and the academic and social background of the pupils to the UTs. Views expressed by the respondents on the problematic aspects of tripartite conferences were largely of a pragmatic nature. Although ideally such conferencing would take place whenever the UT made a visit, in practice this was often not possible because the mentor would have a lesson of his or her own immediately after the ST’s lesson. Even when a tripartite conference was possible, comments were frequently made concerning the unsuitability of the venue in that it might lack

Tripartite Conferences • 95

privacy and be less than conducive to a frank interchange of views and opinions. However, there were some problematic issues that arose that were not practical in nature. Comments were made by respondents of each of the three stakeholder groups concerning the different perspectives being emphasized by the MTs and the UTs, that is, the MTs focusing more on specific teaching techniques and skills and the UTs trying to relate the classroom events to more generic and broader issues of pedagogy and learning. While these different perspectives could be seen as providing an important richness and diversity to the discourse, it was nevertheless clear that some respondents felt they could lead to an uncomfortable atmosphere within the tripartite conference. The following comments illustrate this unease: Sometimes I feel uncomfortable when the mentor and my supervisor have conflicting views. [ST] Problems can arise if participants become “defensive” about their positions. [MT] Often I find I have to curb my advice/comments to avoid upsetting people (usually the mentor). I am sure the mentor is under the same constraint. There is a problem when the practice in the school is quite contrary to what we are trying to promote at the university. [UT] Such feelings of unease may be rooted in the desire for convergence and harmony in Chinese culture. However, the last comment quite clearly suggests that although the stakeholders share a common goal within the school-university partnership, that is, helping the STs in their professional development, the meanings of this joint enterprise have to be negotiated. Yet the negotiability of meanings is constrained by power relationships and cultural norms. We shall return to this issue later. Comparison of Tripartite and Dual Conferences The overall distribution of preferences between dual and tripartite conferences produced rather a different picture from the three stakeholder groups. Almost all the STs (over 90%) preferred tripartite conferences over dual conferences, whereas most UTs (also over 90%) claimed to have no preference one way or the other. The MTs split almost equally into three groups, those who preferred tripartite (about 37%), those who preferred dual (about 33%), and those who had no preference (about 30%). The comments made by the STs most commonly referred to the value of having different points

96 • Fran Lopez-Real, Doris Law and Rosina Tang

of view expressed about the lesson and the fact that the different perspectives helped them integrate theory and practice better. (Similar points were made by the MTs and UTs who preferred tripartite conferences.) In addition, the STs often made the point that their MTs had been working with them over a period of time and therefore would be able to comment on and help the UT to understand their progress. This was also linked to the mentor’s knowledge of the school context and levels and needs of the pupils and again being able to explain this to the UT. There seems to be quite a strong sense here of the ST seeing the mentor as an ally who supports, explains and perhaps even justifies the ST’s performance in the classroom to the UT. As we shall see, many of the MTs clearly held a similar view. A comment that was often made by the MTs who preferred tripartite conferences is one that has been briefly touched on before, namely, that they are inherently more objective and fairer than dual conferences. This view was echoed by many of the STs and some UTs. Comments similar to this, where objectivity is seen to be a consequence of two observers being present at the lesson, were by far the most frequent made by the MTs. The perceived “objectivity” was likely to be constituted by the fact that each observer had to justify and explain his or her comments, not just to the ST but also to the other observer. In addition, the sharing of experiences and different perspectives was a factor in coming to this “objectivity” and hence a “fair” evaluation of the ST. Of those MTs preferring dual conferences and identifying disadvantages of tripartite conferences, the predominant reason related to the practicality of arranging these conferences where the former was much easier to arrange than the latter. Nearly all the other comments related to the nature of the three-way relationship from an affective perspective. This was in contrast to those MTs preferring tripartite conferences where the majority of the reasons for their preference could be broadly characterized as coming from a cognitive perspective. The most common affective reason identified was the idea that a tripartite conference puts more pressure on the ST and subjects the ST to more stress. The other side of the coin, also frequently mentioned, was that STs would be more confident in expressing their ideas in the dual conference situation. Such views seem to suggest that the MTs take a strongly pastoral role in relationship to the STs and often see themselves as father or mother figures. Indeed, the comments indicated that they were quite protective about “their” students with respect to the UTs. The following comments are typical of these views: I prefer dual conferences because it does not create pressure on the student teacher.

Tripartite Conferences • 97

In a dual conference the student teacher is more confident to reveal his/her ideas. It is more suitable and helpful as they will fi nd it easier to raise ideas with the mentor. In tripartite conferences the mentors may need to protect and defend the student teachers. Sometimes the student teacher seems to be attending a trial. It seems too harsh for them. The references to “protect and defend” and “a trial” place the process of tripartite conferences firmly within an adversarial situation. Nevertheless, this view was common among those who preferred dual conferences to tripartite. It is also interesting to note that the problem of extra stress and tension in a tripartite conference was not confined to its effect on the STs. The feelings of the mentor were also referred to in this context. Comments were made about the MTs being inhibited or dominated by the UT and being more confident to express their ideas in a dual conference: Unless handled correctly, the student teacher (and some mentors!) actually feel intimidated by the lecturer. Sometimes one party will dominate the whole conference! It is clear that the power relationship between the three participants is an important dimension which shapes these conferences. Moreover, such vocabulary as dominate, intimidate, protect, defend, pressure and trial are all expressions more commonly associated with conflict rather than harmonious situations. As mentioned earlier, most UTs expressed no preference between dual and tripartite conferences. Among those who did have a preference, the majority favored tripartite conferences, mostly for reasons that have already been outlined, for example, the greater amount of sharing, the openness of the discussions, the opportunity for more interaction between the UT and the mentor and being able to act as a role model for the mentor in terms of supervisory skills. However, similar to many MTs, some had reservations. They too felt that the ST might be under more pressure and also, with respect to their own feelings, that they would be able to express themselves more freely in a dual conference. For example: Tripartite are more complicated as I may have to express opinions more diplomatically! Sometimes they are rather “powder puff,” a contrived collegiality. I may need to say things privately to student teachers and mentors which I don’t want the other to be aware of.

98 • Fran Lopez-Real, Doris Law and Rosina Tang

These comments certainly do not suggest that any feeling of “openness” had been established between the participants in such conferences. They are indicative of the complexity of the power relationship among the three participants. The UTs were aware of the asymmetrical relationship between themselves and the MTs where, by virtue of their institutional power, their own meanings would be privileged. They were also aware that the MTs had institutional power over STs which they did not want to undermine, for example, in cases where they disagreed with the MT. They might have been apprehensive about adversely affecting the perception by the STs of the MTs, again by virtue of the fact that their meanings carried higher currency than those of the MTs and the STs. In other words, power relationships among these three participants were instantiated in the intensive moment-by-moment interaction among them. For this reason, tripartite conferences are excellent candidates for investigations of the interplay of these relationships. Roles in Tripartite Conferences Compared to Dual Conferences Perhaps contrary to expectation, most STs felt that their role in dual conferences, with either the mentor or UT, had more of a sharing nature than was the case in tripartite conferences. In the latter, they felt that the predominant purpose was to receive advice and learn; they were in the position of listeners and reflectors. As one put it, In tripartite conferences, more explanations are provided and I receive advice from my mentor and university tutor, so I have to listen more and I learn more. As most STs preferred tripartite conferences, this suggests quite strongly that it is the additional feedback and comments that they value rather than the opportunity to put forward and discuss their own ideas. Despite the rhetoric of tripartite conferences being able to promote a richer interchange of ideas, in reality the STs may take a more passive role, for whatever reason, than they do in dual conferences and furthermore, this is what they prefer. As far as the MTs were concerned, about a quarter felt that their role was no different in either type of conference. For those who felt there were differences, these were largely a reiteration of views they had already expressed in answer to previous questions. That is, once again we find an emphasis on being able to explain the school context and pupil backgrounds to the UT, and this appeared to be part of what the MT saw as a “protective” role toward the ST. The other fairly strong view to emerge was the MTs seeing themselves in the role of learner vis-à-vis the UT, that is, in terms of mentoring and supervisory techniques.

Tripartite Conferences • 99

In addition, the MTs also compared their role with that of the UTs in a tripartite conference. By far the most predominant perception was that the MT’s role involved more practical suggestions compared to the UT’s need to provide a more theoretical perspective. The following comments were very typical: I give advice from the perspective of the practitioner, based on many years of experience. The lecturers’ suggestions are more theoretical. I observe mostly the practical side—did she teach effectively, could she manage the class, were the students learning etc. while the university tutor could help the student teacher integrate the theoretical with the practical. Despite the fact that all the UTs had been “practitioners” in the past, some with many years’ experience and some with very recent experience in the classroom, the notion that they were now somehow divorced from the real world of teaching was prevalent. The ivory-tower image of the university seemed to persist. Whether or not this theory/practice dichotomy has any validity is not the question here. The important point to note is that these were the perceptions of most of the MTs and this is clearly a challenge in building a genuine partnership between MTs and UTs. A further point that needs to be considered is the extent to which such perceptions begin to drive the actions of the MTs. That is, if the MTs perceive their role solely in terms of practical guidance, there may be little incentive to extend their support in terms of relating practice to theory. The perception of the MTs about their role is interesting in that it shows how the learning of STs was carved up in terms of realms of practice and theory in order that they could claim competence in the former though not the latter. This can be considered as a form of resistance to the domination of meaning by the UT on the part of the MT and an assertion of their identity as a worthy member of the community of practice of partnership. Another role that MTs perceived themselves as playing is the role of “friend” and counselor to the STs. This is likely to be due to the fact that the MTs were not involved in assessment, which means that they did not have power over the STs, as the UTs did. Most of the UTs saw little difference in their own role in dual or tripartite conferences in relation to the ST. However, they frequently commented on their relationship with the mentors. Many expressed an obligation to try to involve the mentor as much as possible, often asking for the mentor’s comments before making their own observations. But the extent to which they involved mentors was frequently related to the experience of the mentor involved. As one tutor put it:

100 • Fran Lopez-Real, Doris Law and Rosina Tang

With less experienced mentors, I try to be a role model for supervision. With more experienced mentors, I am a facilitator. Again, such comments touch on the issue of power and control. One could argue that in both of the comments above there is a perception of “superiority” held by the UT. Putting oneself up as a “role model” clearly implies a perception of superiority, and even the notion of “facilitator” carries the implication that he or she who facilitates has a superior “knowledge” of what is required. On the other hand, one could also argue that they illustrate the UT being sensitive to the “inevitable” asymmetrical power relationship involved and seeing the tripartite conference as affording a learning opportunity for all parties involved. Distribution of Contributions in Tripartite Conferences The notion of equality plays an important role in the literature on school-university partnerships. How does this play out in the specific context of tripartite conferences? In each of the three stakeholder groups, most respondents felt that the amount of contribution from each person should be roughly equal. The most frequently stated reason was that each person has a unique role and each role is equally valid. Moreover, many held the belief that “equal sharing enhances partnership,” to quote one UT. Comments referring to collaboration and partnership were very frequent among the STs and the idea of equality seemed to be given great importance. However, it was also pointed out that this equality of contribution need not refer to each individual conference but rather to the sequence of conferences as a whole. As one mentor put it, Yes, it should be approximately equal contributions. But each time it may be different. It depends on who has more ideas and opinions on that particular lesson. Mentors who felt that the distribution should not be equal were divided almost equally into those believing that the ST should contribute most and those saying it should be the UT. The following two comments illustrate two contrasting reasons for advocating that STs should play the largest part in a tripartite conference: I think the university tutor and the mentor should work towards encouraging the student teacher to contribute most. In this way we will help to build up teams of teachers who really think about what they are doing, and why, instead of slavishly following past traditions.

Tripartite Conferences • 101

Student teachers should contribute most as they need to bring out most problems for discussion. They should take the chance to reflect on and to ask questions concerning the practice. In the first comment, the emphasis is on guiding the ST toward self-reflection so that he or she takes on the major role, while in the second comment, the ST is seen as driving the agenda of the conference. For the respondents who felt that the UTs should contribute most, the reasons given were quite diverse, including the UTs’ experience, knowledge and expertise. However, pragmatic reasons were frequently mentioned, as illustrated by the following comment: He/she [the UT] does not visit the class so often and so the chance to make comments is valuable. The mentor has other chances to discuss with the student teacher. As far as the UTs were concerned, nearly all those who did not believe in equal sharing felt that they themselves should contribute most. Many claimed that they were more used to the process and, moreover, that they were expected to take the lead and to set the agenda in tripartite conferences. Although they did not often claim that they necessarily had more knowledge and expertise than the MTs, their comments frequently suggested that they felt the MTs (and the STs) perceived them in this way and therefore it was incumbent on them to take the lead, as shown in the following comment: My feeling is that they [MTs and STs] see us as having greater pedagogical knowledge, especially from a theoretical perspective, and therefore they expect us to provide the direction and focus of the discourse. The minority of STs who did not think that equal contributions were important felt that the UT should be the dominant figure. Generally, their reasons were similar to those of the MTs but, in addition, the idea that the UT was their own teacher came across as an important point of consideration, as shown in the following comments: No, I think [the] university tutor should make [the] most contribution because he is my teacher[;] he knows my weaknesses and difficulties more than my mentor. [The] university tutor, since he has visited other student teachers . . . can make a comparison of my teaching. Some STs argued that the distribution was not the important issue but rather the quality of contribution and therefore each participant

102 • Fran Lopez-Real, Doris Law and Rosina Tang

should feel free to contribute as much as they felt they needed or wanted to. Despite the strong preference from all three stakeholder groups that the contributions should be roughly equal, the reality was rather different. Respondents in all three stakeholder groups were overwhelmingly of the opinion that, in practice, the UT was the dominant figure in tripartite conferences and certainly made the most contributions. Th is was often stated simply as a matter of fact, without any speculation on the reasons. But when explanations were put forward they included the fact that the UT was more able to link his or her comments to theory and to modules in the university course. Th is might be objectively true, or it might be a false perception, but in either case it refers to the type of contribution made and does not imply a greater number of contributions. Perhaps more significantly, many of the MTs and STs hinted at the power relations involved and the assumption that the UT was an authority figure. We have already seen some previous comments by MTs about UTs being intimidating and dominating. The following comment from an ST puts it very simply: Mentors and student teachers do not share the same status as the university tutors in tripartite conferences.

Tripartite Conferences as Activity Systems In Chapter 2 we commented on the microsystems that are embedded within broader macrosystems, and we discussed the concept of activity systems in some detail. In this context, we can consider tripartite conferences to be examples of such microsystems within the wider community of practice constituted by the school-university partnership. Clearly, while all the tripartite groups may be working within an agreed overall framework at the macro level, there may be differences in the way each one operates. Nevertheless, by examining some of the specific factors that are significant within a par ticu lar tripartite group, we may gain insight that can help improve the functioning of tripartite conferences within a school-university partnership. In the following section we look in more detail at one such group. Case Study of a Sequence of Tripartite Conferences In this section we consider a sequence of four tripartite conferences between the same UT, MT and ST. Although the UT and the MT had known each other for some years, this was the first time they had taken part in a tripartite conference together. Analysis of a conference, in terms of the contributions of participants, may be done in a number of ways. Tsui,

Tripartite Conferences • 103 Table 5.2 Overall Distribution of Who Is Eliciting from Whom Person who elicited

Person who responded

Conf. 1

Conf. 2

Conf. 3

Conf. 4

n

n

n

n

ST

10

12

15

6

MT

–

1

1

–

MT

UT

–

–

–

–

ST

–

2

4

6

ST

UT

–

–

–

1

MT

–

–

–

–

10

15

20

13

UT

Total

Lopez-Real, Law, Tang and Shum (2001) found that the dominant figure in a conference, in terms of driving the agenda of the discourse, could be clearly identified through two factors. First, who did most of the “eliciting,” that is, prompting and starting a discussion by raising a particular point or question? Second, who instigated most of the “topic changes”? That is, after identifying the different topics that were discussed (each topic consisting of a sequence of interactions between the participants), who initiated the transition from one topic to another? We employed the same tools of analysis for these four conferences. What we were particularly interested to identify was whether or not any significant changes took place over the course of the four conferences. All four conferences were audiotaped and fully transcribed for analysis. Table 5.2 shows the overall distribution of who elicited from whom over the four tripartite conferences. It reveals quite a striking picture of change, especially with respect to the MT. The contrast between the first and last conferences is powerful, moving from a situation in which the UT was doing all the initiating to one in which this function was being shared equally between the UT and the MT. Although it was not until the last conference that the ST initiated a point for discussion, this one instance may be indicative of the transition to a more open discussion which enabled the ST to become proactive. As regards topic change, this sometimes occurred without any particular connection with the previous topic being discussed. Sometimes the change was prefaced by a discourse marker like “Let’s now turn our attention to . . .” However, on many occasions the change was rather more subtle and fluid and was “embedded within the flow of the discourse” (Tsui et al., 2001, p. 336), for example, when one speaker commented on and developed a point made by a previous speaker and then changed the direction

104 • Fran Lopez-Real, Doris Law and Rosina Tang Table 5.3 The Distribution of Who Initiated Topic Changes in the Four Conferences No. of distinct sequences in Conf. 1

No. of distinct sequences in Conf. 2

No. of distinct sequences in Conf. 3

No. of distinct sequences in Conf. 4

UT

9

11

7

4

MT

4

4

6

6

Who initiated the change

ST Total no. of sequences

–

–

–

1

13

15

13

11

of the discussion. Table 5.3 illustrates the distribution of who initiated these topic changes over the sequence of conferences. Once again, a quite striking pattern emerges. The UT was the dominant figure in the first two conferences, but the MT was nevertheless playing a part in determining the direction of the discourse. In the third, these two participants were making quite a “balanced” contribution and in the fourth the dominant role appeared to have shifted to the MT. Analysis of the interactions in the third and especially the fourth conferences showed many more examples of the MT following up on, and developing, the UT’s comments and vice-versa. This would often, although not always, start with some initial agreement on the previous comments but then a different perspective would be elaborated. In fact, as many of the overall feedback comments reported earlier suggest, this frequently illustrates the different emphases placed on events by the mentor and the UT. The mentor would regularly relate the lesson’s events to pragmatic and skill-oriented matters, while the UT would try to relate them to more generic considerations of learning, pedagogy and classroom management. The overall “feel” of the last conference was one of collaboration, whereby these two participants were playing different but complementary roles to one another. This was in strong contrast to the first conference, where the two were virtually working independently of one another, sometimes with no connection to each other’s comments. Another example of the gradual change of style from the first to the last of the conferences was evident in the length of comments made by the UT and the MT. In the first, the contributions from each were often quite lengthy “monologues” putting forward their position and viewpoints before asking the ST to comment. And, as mentioned earlier, the comments from the MT and the UT seemed to be almost “independent” of each other, rather than building on each other. However, by the fourth conference this aspect was quite different. Here, the contributions were generally

Tripartite Conferences • 105

shorter in length but together comprised a more genuine “conversation” between all the participants.

Discussion From the data presented in the earlier sections on the questionnaire responses, it appears that the idealized conception of tripartite conferences as a mediating tool for helping STs learn how to teach, where the participants can make equal contribution to the discussion, was not translated into reality. As we have seen in many of the comments, power relationships seem to be a prevailing factor. And part of the complexity of this power relationship resides in the historical orientations of universities and schools toward theory and practice. One of the purposes of collaborative enterprises like school-university partnerships has been precisely to try to break down this divide. From an academic perspective, theoretical knowledge has been valued above practical skills but the practitioner in the school may see things differently and make different value judgments (Kagan, 1993). The following very strong statement from a teacher, quoted in Hayes and Kelly (2000), epitomizes this divide: “The real learning . . . about being a teacher, we learned here, [is] on the job. The university didn’t teach us anything about being teachers” (p. 465). However, as Hayes and Kelly point out, the real issue is “how to appropriately and productively manage and negotiate the various cultural spheres and power relations so that the relationship is productive” (p. 456). One way of viewing the theory-practice dichotomy that is so often evident in school-university partnerships, and the power relations involved, is through the lens of positioning theory (Harre & van Lagenhove, 1999). This theory attempts to interpret human relationships within a social constructivist framework and uses the more dynamic construct of “position” rather than the static construct of “role.” As Bullough and Draper (2004) put it, “positioning of self always involves positioning of others and positioning of others always involves positioning of self” (p. 408). This suggests a relationship which may be in continuous flux as the positioning of one individual influences the other and vice-versa. Bullough and Draper used such a perspective in their study of a “triad” involving a university supervisor, a mentoring teacher and an intern teacher. Almost from the outset, the university supervisor positioned the mentor “as traditional and unintentionally therefore as deficit as a teacher and thus mentor” (p. 413). By contrast, the mentor positioned herself as “expert” in the practicalities of teaching and in her view the university supervisor “knew little about high school teaching and was caught up in unhelpful theory” (p. 414). In fact, both shared the same goals for the intern (to help her develop as a mathematics teacher)

106 • Fran Lopez-Real, Doris Law and Rosina Tang

but had fundamentally different philosophies about how to achieve this. Their differences eventually turned into open conflict and the intern found herself caught in the middle. She was “forced” to align herself with one or the other and, for clearly pragmatic reasons, she chose the mentor because that was where “power” resided in terms of the assessment of her teaching performance in that particular situation. Bullough and Draper’s “failed triad” is perhaps a rather extreme case but it serves to highlight two important issues of this chapter. The first is the question of communication. In Bullough and Draper’s study at no stage in the triad relationship did the mentor and university supervisor actually observe the intern’s lessons together and discuss the lessons as a group. The authors comment, “Remarkably, not one member of the triad thought more talk was necessary or even desirable” (p. 418). The second issue concerns the development of a relationship. The initial positioning of the university supervisor and the mentor in the “failed triad” quickly became resistant to change because of the lack of opportunities for negotiation of meaning; each considered his or her own meanings to have higher currency than the other and competed for recognition by the intern. By applying Engeström’s (1987) diagrammatic representation of activity systems to that of tripartite conferencing, we can attempt to analyze the functioning of such conferencing. However, tripartite conferencing within the HKU school-university partnership scheme was a “new” activity system embedded in an already existing system that involved postlesson observation conferences. These were conferences held between the MT and the ST or between the UT and the ST on different occasions. Therefore, in order to understand the functioning of tripartite conferencing as an activity system we need fi rst to consider the existing post-lesson observation conferencing, using the same framework. This is shown in Figure 5.1. The “Rules / Norms” in this activity system, shown in the left-hand base of the triangle, pertain to the asymmetrical power relationships involved, namely, between the UT and ST and also between the MT and ST, and also the practicum requirements in the former pair and the expectations in the latter pair. These rules, both implicit and explicit, govern to a large extent the “Division of Labor” shown on the right-hand base of the triangle. That is, the power relationships result in the ST taking a rather passive position in the conference, largely consisting of responding to the UT’s or MT’s comments and questions. In addition, the different requirements of the university and the school result in the UT and MT emphasizing different aspects of the ST’s teaching, these being, broadly speaking, the theory/practice relationship and the more pragmatic elements of teaching, respectively.

Tripartite Conferences • 107

Figure 5.1 Activity System of Post-Observation Conferencing

Turning to tripartite conferences, these are microsystems that are embedded in a macrosystem where the power relationship between the UT and MT is also asymmetrical (see Chapter 2). The UTs’ meanings are privileged because of the higher status that is traditionally accorded to theoretical knowledge over practical knowledge and to universities over schools. This can give rise to contradictions between the perceived power relationships and division of labor among the participants and the intended power relationship and division of labor in tripartite conferences (as, for example, encouraged in the Teaching Practice Handbook referred to earlier). It is clear from the questionnaire data that many participants were aware, to varying extents, of such contradictions. Thus how these conferences

108 • Fran Lopez-Real, Doris Law and Rosina Tang

worked out for each group depended on the ways in which the contradictions were perceived and resolved. In general, the way in which tripartite conferences work out for a specific tripartite group will inevitably be a function of the relationships between the three participants, that is, the way in which they position themselves with respect to each other, their perceptions of roles and especially their assumptions concerning control and power. We have seen in the earlier sections how the widely differing comments from the participants illustrate the complexity of the relationships. These relationships will in turn affect how the division of labor manifests itself, and this also may ultimately affect the quality and nature of learning that the ST is engaged in. The diagram in Figure 5.2 represents an ideal activity system for tripartite conferencing but at the same time highlights where contradictions may occur that will affect the satisfactory functioning of the system. In this system the “Rules/Norms” emphasize a symmetrical power relation (between all three participants) and a collective responsibility for working toward the “object” of the system. This itself now has a broader focus than that described in Figure 5.1. That is, it is no longer restricted to the ST’s learning but assumes that both the MT and UT should also learn

Figure 5.2 Activity System of Triparite Conferencing and Contradictions

Tripartite Conferences • 109

from the process. Both the rules and the object of this activity system govern how the division of labor manifests itself. In this case it will be through a collective evaluation of the ST’s lesson. This does not imply a rigidly defined “equal quota” of inputs, for example, but rather a genuine sharing and discussion of understandings and implications that arise during the conference and a flexible structure in terms of who is contributing what. However, a tripartite relationship in which, either explicitly or implicitly, the UT is perceived by all participants as being the authority figure in control of the process and driving the agenda immediately produces a contradiction with the rules of this “ideal” activity system, as indicated by the arrows [1] in Figure 5.2. This in turn may well produce tensions and strains that are not conducive to a productive outcome. This is also likely to occur even where the UT and MT are perceived as having shared control and authority but where the ST remains in an intellectually “dependent” position. Such perception will also generate a contradiction with the division of labor in the ideal tripartite conferencing activity system, as indicated by the arrow [2] in Figure 5.2. By its nature, an activity system is fluid and in a state of continual change driven by the inherent contradictions within the system (Engeström, 2001). Hence, the new base shown in Figure 5.2 is one that may emerge from such a process of change, during which the rules and norms of the system and the process of conducting a post-lesson observation conference are gradually negotiated and become actualized in practice. The case study described in this chapter presents an interesting picture of how the power relations and positioning of the participants may alter and become more productive over a sequence of conferences. Certainly, as far as the inputs from the UT and MT are concerned, there appears to be a definite move to a more collaborative mode of working. As pointed out in the previous section, this does not necessarily imply that they have the same views but rather that they may have different but complementary roles in the supervisory conference, with mutual respect for these complementary roles. And this is likely to produce a richer exchange of ideas and discussion with the ST. But this is taking place within a microsystem consisting of three individuals engaged in the process of tripartite conferencing. What implications might this have for the macrosystem formed by the school-university partnership and the other tripartite groupings functioning within this system? There are two aspects that seem to be very important here. The first relates to the context of the case study being a sequence of conferences. The fact that the fourth conference portrays a different picture to the first, and the change is gradual from first to last, suggests that continuity in tripartite conferencing is crucial. This, however, is not easily achieved. In the

110 • Fran Lopez-Real, Doris Law and Rosina Tang

HKU partnership, tutors normally visit their students on four occasions but, as reported earlier, practical difficulties mean that tripartite conferences cannot always be arranged. Indeed, it is frequently the case that just one or two tripartite conferences are held. If the case study data are at all typical, this may mean that such conferences are likely to follow the pattern of the UT dominating and driving the agenda rather than the more desirable collaborative process illustrated by the latter conferences. The second aspect relates to the positioning of the ST. In the case study, in terms of driving the agenda, it appears that the ST had negligible impact, if any at all. The final conference does hint that such a change may have taken place, but it remains tentative at this stage. As we have seen from the questionnaire data, the STs preferred to get more comments, and a broader range of comments, from their UT and MT together, compared to the dual conferences with either of them. For this reason, they played a more passive role whereby they mostly responded to prompts and suggestions rather than a more proactive stance whereby they raised issues of concern for discussion. At the macrolevel of partnership, this suggests that more emphasis needs to be put on establishing the framework for tripartite conferences so that the STs are given clear guidelines on how to prepare for such discussion in terms of identifying aspects that they want to raise for discussion. The “conflict” situation that can arise from the asymmetrical power relationship between the three participants, as highlighted in this chapter, shows that when a new activity system is introduced, contradictions are generated between the underlying norms and division of labor of this system and those of the sociocultural context in which the new activity is embedded. The resolution of such contradictions can lead to expansive learning, as suggested by the change in the participation of the stakeholders in the case study. On the other hand, such contradictions, if unresolved, could render the system dysfunctional, as can be gleaned from the comments made by the participants in the questionnaires.

CHAPTER

6

Mutual Engagement and Boundary Crossing in Lesson Studies DORIS LAW AND AMY B. M. TSUI

Introduction Th is chapter focuses on mutual engagement between teachers (including mentors) and university tutors (UTs) in collaborative inquiries of classroom teaching mediated by lesson studies. These lesson studies involved a recursive sequence of outlined actions in which teachers and UTs planned lessons together, conducted observations, held post-observation conferences, discussed follow-up actions and monitored learning outcomes. The mutual engagement involved what Wenger (1998) refers to as “complementary” contributions from the teachers and the UTs. By researching their own teaching, teachers learned to be more reflective; and by researching teachers’ implementation of ideas jointly formulated by UTs and teachers, the UTs put to the test the validity of the advice that they provided to teachers. In this chapter, we draw on Wenger’s framework of boundary crossing and brokering and activity theory to explore the learning that was afforded when teachers and UTs crossed their community boundaries and became mutually engaged in pedagogic inquiries.

111

112 • Doris Law and Amy B. M. Tsui

Boundary Crossing, Contradictions and Transformation In Chapter 2, we discussed the three dimensions which define a community of practice, that is, the mutual engagement of participants, the negotiation of a joint enterprise and the development of a shared repertoire. These three dimensions are a source of coherence for a community of practice, and they bring about deeper interpersonal relationships among people. As such they create boundaries between participants and nonparticipants and between a community of practice and the rest of the world. However, these boundaries can be crossed in a variety of ways through boundary objects and the brokering of these objects. Wenger points out that when boundary crossing in participation and reification occur simultaneously, interaction is sustained and powerful learning is afforded. Brokering is a complex process of “translation, coordination and alignment between perspectives” (Wenger, 1998, p. 109). Good brokers create connections across communities, negotiate meaning with members of different communities and facilitate transactions among communities. In the study reported in this chapter, lesson study, as a cultural artifact, served as a boundary object which provided connections between UTs and teachers. While engaging in boundary practices, the UTs and teachers developed interpersonal relationships, a better understanding of their joint enterprise and a shared repertoire for interrogating and enhancing pedagogy. However, such mutual engagement also brought about diversities, differentiation and dilemmas. As pointed out in Chapter 2, divergent experience and competence are germane to the learning that occurs at the boundaries. The concept of learning at the boundaries being brought about by divergent experience and competence is somewhat similar to the concept of “boundary crossing” in activity theory, proposed by Engeström, Engeström, and Kärkkäinen (1995), which occurs when two or more activity systems interact. The multiple perspectives and multivoicedness in these systems, as well as the new elements introduced from another system, generate contradictions which play a central role in bringing about innovation and change (Engeström, 1999, 2001; Leont’ev, 1978, 1981b). As pointed out in Chapter 2, in the process of interaction between two activity systems, cultural tools and artifacts are being transformed and new ones are being created (Engeström, 1999). In addition, the nature of the activity and the modes of participation are being transformed. In this chapter, we report two cases of mutual engagement in the exploration of pedagogical practices in which boundary objects, including lesson studies, reciprocal teaching and assessment tools, were brokered by the UTs. Starting with questioning and analyzing problems, participants

Mutual Engagement and Boundary Crossing in Lesson Studies • 113

tried to model, implement, examine and revise the boundary objects as mediating tools for teaching and learning, and as they tried to resolve the contradictions generated by new patterns of activity, innovative practices emerged, which led to change and transformation (Engeström, 2000). In the process of consolidating new practices, new confl icts emerged, leading to another expansive cycle in which contradictions were resolved. In this recursive process, a series of strategic learning actions and corresponding contradictions were identified, and sustainable transformations were achieved (Engeström, 1999). This complex change process led to a transformation of participation in the sociocultural activities. Such changed participation, as Lave and Wenger (1991) point out, involved renegotiating responsibility for the activity and even changing the practice itself. Before we introduce the cases, we briefly outline “lesson study” as a mediating tool in a teacher development activity system.

Lesson Study “Lesson study” is the investigation of pedagogical practices through examining how a lesson or a series of lessons is taught in the classroom with the aim of improving the quality of teaching and learning. Lesson study ( jugyou kenkyuu) is a deeply rooted and well-articulated educational practice in schools in Japan (Fernandez, 2002; Stigler & Hiebert, 1999) and in the People’s Republic of China (referred to as “lesson research”) (Ng & Chow, 1999; Wang & Paine, 2003). As the term indicates, the focus is on the lesson and its objects of learning, not the individual teacher. As such, it encourages open and frank discussions of the lesson. In Japan, a lesson study consists of three main components: identifying a lesson study research theme, conducting research lessons that explore this theme and reflecting on the process and writing up reports (Yoshida, 2003). Similarly, in China, the collectively crafted lesson is conducted by a teacher and is observed and reflected on by the whole group. On the basis of the group’s comments, the lesson is revised, retaught and reflected on again before a polished lesson is shared outside the team. The mutual engagement among teachers in lesson studies drives teachers to think about how to enhance and deepen students’ understanding of the object of learning (Feldman, 1996; Hiebert, Gallimore, & Stigler, 2002; Lewis & Tsuchida, 1998; Noffke, 1997). It also enables them to explore conflicting ideas and alternative teaching approaches and develop effective instructional strategies (Hiebert & Stigler, 2000). The polished lesson, as Campbell (2003) points out, is only a by-product of the reflective process. The impact of the process goes well beyond the lesson itself. It includes a deeper understanding of content knowledge and of how students learn, as well as improved pedagogical skills.

114 • Doris Law and Amy B. M. Tsui

Background of the Two Cases In 2001, a curriculum reform was launched in Hong Kong which shifted the focus of the school curriculum from learning content to learning generic skills and from product- to process-oriented learning. This change of focus was a cause for great concern among teachers, who were at a loss as to what it meant in classroom implementation. For the teaching of Chinese language, the curriculum reform posed a severe challenge because the Chinese language curriculum had always focused on the comprehension and appreciation of classical and modern literary texts, the understanding of the sociocultural background of the writers and the rhetorical structures and lexical semantics of the texts. Reading strategies and higher-order thinking skills, such as evaluating, inferring, drawing conclusions and problem solving, which are necessary for a deeper understanding of texts, were seldom required in reading comprehension assessments. Case 1: Reciprocal Teaching This case involved four teachers, including the head of the Chinese language and literature panel (equivalent to a department in schools in the United Kingdom; hereafter, Chinese Panel) in a partnership school who participated in the collaboration. All four teachers have a first degree in Chinese language. The head (Teacher A) and the deputy head of the Chinese Panel (Teacher B) have a master’s degree in Education, and they have 20 and more than 10 years’ teaching experience, respectively. The third teacher (Teacher C) has five and the fourth (Teacher D) has three years’ teaching experience. The UT1 introduced “reciprocal teaching” (RT) to the school as an effective reading pedagogy to improve students’ reading ability and adopted lesson study as a mediating tool for investigating its implementation in the classroom. RT is an instructional program developed by Palincsar and Brown (1984) to enhance reading comprehension by getting students to take on the role of the teacher in turn to lead group discussions in understanding a piece of text by asking questions, seeking clarification, making predictions and summarizing (Brown, Campione, Webber, & McGilly, 1992). The RT program was further developed to include the enhancement of students’ higher-order reading skills which include complex explanation, argument and reasoning (Brown & Campione, 1994). The RT brokered by the UT was based on Brown and Campione’s model. In a typical RT classroom, the teacher first conducts whole-class instruction, followed by the formation of RT groups. Each group consists of around four learners, with different reading abilities. The teacher helps the

Mutual Engagement and Boundary Crossing in Lesson Studies • 115

groups practice using the four reading strategies, that is, predicting, questioning, clarifying and summarizing, to understand a piece of text. When the groups are familiar with the procedure, the teacher assigns a leader in each group to guide the group discussion. The groups work independently and the teacher acts as a facilitator and offers help when necessary. Students’ learning is assessed by tests administered at the end. Implementation of Reciprocal Teaching The classroom implementation of RT involved six Secondary Th ree (Grade 9) classes of students (of average age 15), with about 28 students in each class, totaling 159 students (75 males and 84 females). Beforehand, the UT conducted two workshops to introduce the concept of RT and how it could be applied in Chinese reading comprehension lessons. She also designed a set of teaching materials for 15 RT lessons. The materials had both the teacher’s and the students’ versions. They included worksheets, answer sheets, suggestions for activities and reflection sheets for both teachers and students. The materials were discussed with the teachers and their feedback was incorporated. To assess the student learning outcome, a pretest and a posttest were administered to all students. The lesson study on classroom implementation of RT involved two cycles. Each cycle consisted of 14 lessons, lasting about two and a half weeks. Three teachers, Teacher A (the Panel Head), Teacher B and Teacher C, were involved in the first cycle, each teaching a class. In the second cycle, Teacher B, Teacher C and Teacher D (the least experienced teacher) conducted the RT cycle in three other classes, again each taking a class. Of the four teachers, two (Teacher B and Teacher C) were involved in the teaching of both cycles, thus enabling them to experience the implementation with different classes. The UT observed two lessons conducted by each teacher, followed by a one-to-one post-lesson conference. The UT also met each teacher two to three times during the two cycles, eliciting their views on RT, sharing ideas and discussing follow-up actions with them. During the two cycles, teachers also observed the RT lessons conducted by other teachers and gave feedback. The UT conducted a group discussion with the four teachers after each cycle. Resolving Contradictions in Activity Systems The introduction of a new cultural artifact and a new mediating tool for learning (in this case RT) often involves a fundamental change in the activity system in the classroom and the participant structure embedded in the system. In traditional Chinese-language reading classrooms, the object of the activity system is comprehension of text. The teacher’s

116 • Doris Law and Amy B. M. Tsui

responsibility is to ensure that the students understand the meaning of the text, and the classroom interactions consist of the typical IRF structure, in which the teacher initiates (I) a question and the students respond to the question (R) followed by feedback from the teacher (F) on the correctness or appropriateness of the response. In other words, the teacher is the sole authority who determines the goals of the lesson, shapes the direction of the discourse and determines the meaning of the text. By contrast, in RT, the object of the activity system is the mastery of reading strategies that help students to co-construct the meaning of the text. Students are engaged in dialogic interaction with their peers and in exploring the meaning of the text themselves. The participant structure is fundamentally different from that in traditional classrooms. The teacher is no longer the source of authority who determines the goals of the lesson, the interaction in the classroom and what constitutes an appropriate contribution to the lesson. Instead, the students not only determine what questions to ask but also what constitutes an appropriate answer. Th rough the questions that they ask, they shape the direction of the interaction. The meaning of the text is not determined by the teacher but rather is collaboratively constructed by the students. In other words, the students take on a partial role of the teacher. Contradictions during implementation. The adoption of RT gave rise to confusion, anxiety and frustration for the teachers as well as for the students. All four teachers were apprehensive of the changes to the existing activity system entailed by the introduction of an activity system that was new to them. A number of contradictions were generated. A major contradiction (see [1] in Figure 6.1) arose from discrepancies between the mediating artifacts, that is, the curriculum materials designed by the UT (though with input from teachers), including the pedagogical procedures, and the realities of the classroom. The teachers felt that additional materials, apart from the text itself, were needed to prepare students for the main task, as this was an entirely new approach for them and more interesting and manageable activities were also needed to arouse their interests. In other words, the teachers felt that the students needed scaffolding to enable them to operate in an activity system entailed by RT. The second contradiction (see [2] in Figure 6.1) arose from the fundamentally different participant structures embedded in the two activity systems. The teachers were still operating within an activity system where the teacher plays a transmissive and directive role and the learners play a recipient role. Therefore, the teachers tended to directly instruct students how to use the four reading strategies instead of letting them explore the strategies on their own. This contradicted the roles of the teacher and the

Mutual Engagement and Boundary Crossing in Lesson Studies • 117

Figure 6.1 Lesson Study as Boundary Object

learners in the RT activity system. The teachers as well as the students experienced difficulties operating in the new participant structure. All teachers, including the panel head (Teacher A), who was the most experienced, were apprehensive about relinquishing their authority and letting students take control of the lesson. They were unsure about their own role as “facilitator” in the learning process. They had little confidence that the students were able to engage in meaningful dialogic interaction. They were unable to predict how the lesson would proceed and the students’ performance, and they found the unpredictability unsettling. Similarly, the students had to change their role in the new participant structure. Instead of merely relying on the teacher as the source of knowledge, the students had to take control of their own learning through engaging in dialogic interaction with their peers. They had to elect their own discussion leader, who would lead and monitor the discussion. This generated a contradiction between the existing role and the new role that they were required to take on. As was evident in the lesson observations and post-lesson conferences, the students were not accustomed to taking on such a role and some of them were reticent in group discussions. Apart from having to play a different role, the students also needed to perceive

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the role of the teacher differently in the new activity system of RT. When the students found that the teacher was not prepared to respond to questions that they had raised, they were disappointed and frustrated; they felt that no learning had taken place. The third contradiction (see [3] in Figure 6.1) arose from the assessment of whether the object of learning had been achieved. In existing reading comprehension classrooms, student learning outcomes could be easily assessed by reading comprehension questions which were answered either individually or in front of the whole class by the students. In RT lessons, students worked in groups and their learning outcomes could not be gauged as easily because the teacher could not be present in all groups. The same contradiction was evident from the students’ perspective. From the students’ interviews and the post-observation conferences with the teachers, it was clear that some students felt that they had been shortchanged: They learned nothing about the text and they considered RT “meaningless.” They could not understand why so much time was spent on learning how to ask questions, something which was not required in examinations. The contradictions outlined in the above discussion are represented in Figure 6.1, following Engeström (2001): Resolving contradictions. To resolve the contradictions outlined above, the UT conducted a number of pre- and post-lesson conferences with the teachers during which they explored solutions. To resolve the first contradiction concerning the discrepancies between the curriculum materials which had been designed by the UT and the realities of the classroom, the UT emphasized that the design and the teaching approaches could and should be modified to meet the students’ needs. During the conferences, they discussed how to provide more guidance to enable students to use the strategies and to understand the text. For example, teachers scaffolded the main task by using news items as reading materials and guided students on how to use the four strategies to find the gist of the news. The second contradiction involved a fundamental change in the conceptions of teaching and learning and of the power relationship between the teacher and the students. The teachers strongly felt that input and direction were needed from the teacher, instead of simply allowing students to explore the reading strategies on their own, in order to ensure that students were able to conduct the dialogic interactions in groups. The UT and the teachers agreed to retain some teacher-led elements. The teachers would start with whole-class instruction on the reading strategies and demonstrate how to use these strategies before they allowed the students to work independently in groups.

Mutual Engagement and Boundary Crossing in Lesson Studies • 119

To address the third contradiction, reflection sheets were designed to ask students to think about their learning in these lessons. Tests were also designed to assess their use of strategies and understanding of the text. In addition, at the end of the dialogic interactions in groups, students were asked to report on the outcomes of their discussion and both the students and the teacher provided feedback. The feedback from the students was a further means of assessing student learning outcome. These modifications resolved some of the contradictions. First, the additional materials designed by the teachers themselves catered to the needs and the different ability levels of the students. Second, the teacher-directed instruction on reading strategies was able to set students off quickly on the task so that less time was spent on trial and error. This enabled the teachers to adopt a new approach and yet still follow quite closely the prescribed curriculum. Moreover, a combination of the teacher-led instructions and student-led interrogation of the text resolved the contradiction arising from the teacher relinquishing power and ensured that students had adequate guidance to carry out the task. Third, by getting students to write up questions and summaries, teachers were better able to assess student learning outcomes. By asking students to report their discussion outcomes and inviting them to critique the questions and summaries, the students were able to learn from each other. The teacher’s feedback was also crucial in enhancing the students’ reading abilities. However, new contradictions were generated as some were resolved. One contradiction arose from integrating teacher-led and student-led elements in RT. For example, while Teacher A was able to strike a good balance between guiding the students effectively and enabling them to use the strategies in group discussions, Teacher B tended to overload students with guidance and leave insufficient time for them to explore the texts on their own. Another contradiction arose from how to cater to students of different abilities. Teacher C encountered problems in teaching a “bright” class. The students came to grips with RT very quickly and felt bored because of what they perceived to be a lack of variation in the tasks. They also raised questions unanticipated by her, and she felt that her authority was challenged. By contrast, Teacher D found that very few of her students understood how to use the reading strategies, and she had difficulties motivating the students and providing guidance. In other words, despite the fact that additional materials were collectively produced by the teachers to guide the students, there were differences among the classes and even among individual students who needed to be catered to, and hence successful implementation of a new approach required that each individual teacher was able to make adjustments according to the specific contexts of work. Nevertheless, all of them considered that RT, in its modified form, was

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an effective instructional program for training students’ reading strategies and higher-order thinking skills such as arguing, reasoning and problem solving. They were astonished to find that the students could raise good questions about the text and give good answers. The students were also able to ask questions which were unanticipated by the teacher. The teachers also observed that RT could create a better context for learning because not only could students raise questions but also they were engaged in discussions, selecting the best questions raised in the group discussions, providing answers to them, presenting their ideas to the whole class, receiving feedback from peers and the teacher and refining their views. All four teachers indicated that there were some changes in their conception of their role as a teacher. Previously, they saw their role as planning well-structured lessons, providing all the resources to the students, solving their problems and deciding whether students’ responses were right or wrong. They now saw themselves as playing more of a guiding role. Their focus on whether the answers were right or wrong shifted to a focus on the good ideas proposed by the students. They also learned to allow room for students’ understanding of the text to emerge from their collaborative construction of meaning. In order to do that, they had to be very sensitive to students’ responses and to adjust their teaching plan accordingly. To summarize, both the lesson studies and the RT were boundary objects brokered by the UT, and both were mediating tools, one for teacher learning and the other for student learning. The participation of the teachers and the UT in lesson studies and the adoption of RT in the teaching of reading meant that boundary crossing occurred in both participation and reification. As Wenger points out, the interconnections made between the communities of practice were practice based and therefore more sustainable. The UT and the teachers made complementary contributions to the mutual engagement. The UT possessed formal knowledge of RT and lesson study whereas the teachers had specific knowledge of the school, the students and the school curriculum. During the process, the meaning of the cultural tool brokered by the UT was negotiated between the UT and the teachers as well as among the teachers themselves. In the process of negotiation, the theories of RT were understood in a new light and the practice was reshaped in response to the specific contexts of teaching and learning. In other words, the UT, as a broker, created connections across the boundaries of the university and the school communities through engaging teachers in the negotiation of the joint enterprise of improving students’ reading abilities. In the course of doing this, the boundary object of RT became a shared repertoire of the teachers and the UT, and it took on a new meaning for both the UT and the teachers. The kind of learning

Mutual Engagement and Boundary Crossing in Lesson Studies • 121

that was afforded by boundary crossing will be discussed in greater detail in conjunction with Case 2, to which we shall now turn.

Case 2: The Paradox of Teaching and Student Learning Outcome The second case focuses on the mutual engagement of two UTs and two mentor teachers (MTs) in lesson studies to explore the implementation of the new curriculum in Chinese language and literature (see the section on background of the cases). It explores how the UTs, as boundary brokers, introduced an assessment tool to the MTs to gauge the students’ learning outcome and how the assessment tool, as a boundary object, resolved a paradox which had puzzled one of the MTs for a long time. The subsequent appropriation of the assessment tool by this MT led to a fundamental change in his conception of the teaching of Chinese language and his pedagogical practices. The data collected in this study include video-recordings of lessons taught by both teachers, tape-recordings of pre- and post-observation conferences with them, and their students’ answers in two assessment tasks. The Mentor Teachers The two MTs were colleagues in the same partnership school, and each had more than 20 years’ teaching experience. Both were regarded as expert teachers in the teaching of Chinese language and literature in their school. Teacher E is male and Teacher F female. Teacher E is highly regarded in the school as well as in the professional community and has been featured in television programs as an exemplary teacher on several occasions. However, there was a paradoxical situation where, although Teacher E was well loved and well respected by his students, and his teaching was highly commended, his students did not perform well in examinations. Teacher F was also well-respected by her students though not to the same extent, and her students’ examination results were consistently better than those of Teacher E’s students. Lesson Studies on the New Chinese Language Curriculum The question of how to prepare for the new curriculum was raised by the MTs, in relation both to themselves and to the student teachers who would be teaching the new curriculum after graduating. The UTs and the MTs agreed to explore this together. Lesson study was adopted as the mediating tool for this exploration. The MTs in consultation with the UTs decided on teaching a classical Chinese poem which they found particularly difficult for their students. It was written in the Jun Dynasty by a middle-aged poet, Tao Yuen Ming (陶 淵 明). The poem (“ci”) (辭) was written by him when he resigned from

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the civil ser vice for good, after having resigned and rejoined the civil service previously. According to the MTs, it was difficult for teenagers to appreciate the sentiments of a middle-aged poet who wanted to retreat to a peaceful and quiet life in the countryside. The UTs and MTs planned the lessons together as a team, outlining the objectives and the main themes of the poem. They also explored how to assess student learning outcome within the new curriculum framework. They agreed on the three themes conveyed by the poet: first, why the poet resigned from the civil ser vice; second, the pleasure of leading a rural life and third, the poet’s meditation on his resignation. The lessons were taught by the MTs in turn. Each lesson was accompanied by pre- and post-lesson conferencing and observed by the rest of the team. The whole series took two weeks, and the data collected included student pre- and posttests, student reflection sheets and a written task. The classes taught by the two MTs were of comparable abilities. Teacher E taught the first lesson, in which he elaborated in great detail the political situation at the time and focused on the rampant corruption and decadence. Typical of Teacher E’s teaching, the situation was vividly portrayed, demonstrating Teacher E’s rich knowledge of the subject matter. The students were enthralled. However, Teacher E did not spend very much time on helping students understand the poem, its lexical semantics and diction. In the post-lesson conferencing, Teacher E indicated that the lesson went well and he was quite confident that his students understood the themes of the poem. He said, “I think they are beginning to have a good grasp of why the poet, Tao, wanted to quit the civil ser vice. After I had explained the dark side of the politics at the time, they had some idea (of why he wanted to quit).” Teacher F agreed that the political background was clearly outlined by Teacher E. However, she could not gauge how far the students understood the poem itself because Teacher E was doing the talking most of the time. When one of the UTs asked Teacher E the basis on which he evaluated student learning, he said, It’s very clear. The capable ones were busily taking notes. I didn’t explain the difficult words and phrases because most of them were using old textbooks with a lot of annotations. The capable ones only need explanation of a few key words. The less capable ones will sort out the meanings later, and the weakest ones are a bit hopeless; they fall asleep no matter what you do. He confessed that basically he was targeting the upper two-thirds of the class. The UTs shared Teacher F’s concern, but Teacher E was convinced that his detailed elaboration of the political context was necessary and that it did not detract from the focus of the lesson.

Mutual Engagement and Boundary Crossing in Lesson Studies • 123

Student Learning Outcome and Assessment Tool How to assess student learning outcome in the new curriculum framework was one of the main objects of investigation in the lesson study. Drawing on research tools that were commonly used to gather data on student learning outcomes, the UTs proposed two assessment tasks: The first was an open-ended question which asked students to write down what they had learned in the lessons, and the second was a form of diary entry in which students were asked to take on the role of the protagonist in the poem and write three diary entries to reflect how the poet felt over the period when he resigned from his office. The assessment tasks were designed by the team and administered at the end of the unit. The students’ writings were collected and analyzed. There were no preconceived categories on which the analysis was based except for the general guidelines of whether they demonstrated an understanding of the main themes of the poem and whether the new understanding at which the students had arrived reflected an ability to make evaluations and draw inferences and conclusions on the basis of their understanding of the poem. The writings were read over and over again by Table 6.1 Analysis of Assessment Task 1 Students’ reflections: “What have I learned?”

4A (Teacher E)

4B (Teacher F)

No.

%

No.

Comprehension of main themes with elaboration

7

18.9

5

13.2

Comprehension of main themes without elaboration

1

2.7

7

18.4

Partial comprehension of main themes with elaboration of specific details

0

0

17

44.7

Comments related to main themes

2

5.4

1

2.6

Comments related to specific details but not main themes

23

62.2

6

15.8

Comments unrelated to main themes

4

10.8

2

5.3

Total

37*

100

38

%

100

* This was a class assessment. Three students in 4A and four students in 4B were absent and did not complete the task.

124 • Doris Law and Amy B. M. Tsui Table 6.2 Analysis of Assessment Task 2 4A Students’ diary entries (3 in total) Covers all three themes

No.

4B %

No.

%

2

6.7

7

18.4

Covers two themes

10

33.3

20

52.6

Covers one theme

10

33.3

10

26.3

8

26.7

1

2.6

30*

100.0

38

100.0

Unrelated to any theme Total

* This was a take-home assessment. Ten students in 4A and four students in 4B did not complete the task.

the two UTs, and the analysis was agreed between them. The findings are presented in table 6.1. As we can see from Table 6.1, the percentage of students who demonstrated an understanding of the main themes of the poem and were able to elaborate on them was higher in 4A (Teacher E’s class) (18.9%) than that in 4B (13.2%) (Teacher F’s class). However, the percentage of students who demonstrated an understanding of the main themes with no elaboration in 4A (2.7%) was much lower than that in 4B (18.4%). More significantly, more than half (62.2%) of the students in 4A were only able to elaborate on specific details with no mention of the main themes compared to only 15.8% of the students in 4B. Conversely, 44.7% of 4B students were able to demonstrate an understanding of some (but not all) of the themes with elaboration. In other words, there was a higher percentage of students who demonstrated an understanding of the main themes in Teacher F’s class compared with Teacher E’s class, whereas there was a much lower percentage of students in Teacher F’s class who focused only on the specific details without showing an understanding of the main themes. Results of the second assessment task in Table 6.2 were largely consistent with those in the first assessment task. In 4B, 71% of the students covered two or three themes, whereas in 4A only 40% of the students were able to do so. The percentage of students who were able to cover all three themes in 4A was only 6.7%, which is very small compared to 18.4% in 4B. Moreover, while there were 26.7% of the students in 4A whose diary entries were unrelated to any of the themes, only 2.6% of the students in 4B produced similar diary entries. In other words, the students’ diaries showed that there was a much higher percentage of students in Teacher F’s class who showed an understanding of the themes than those in Teacher E’s class.

Mutual Engagement and Boundary Crossing in Lesson Studies • 125

Assessment Tool and Contradictions Pedagogical dichotomy. The findings of the assessment tasks unsettled the MTs, particularly Teacher E. Previously, when his students scored poorly in examinations, he tended to dismiss it as not a true reflection of his efficacy as a teacher. On the contrary, he prided himself in not teaching to examinations. However, given that, unlike examination questions, the assessment tasks were open-ended tasks and students were encouraged to reflect on their understanding of the poem, he felt that he could not ignore these results. It was clear that only about a third of his students had a good grasp of the themes of the poem and not many were able to go beyond a superficial understanding of specific details or to engage with the poem at higher cognitive levels. He described the experience of being confronted with hard evidence about the students’ learning as “shattering.” The findings also came as a surprise to Teacher F, who always felt that Teacher E was a much better teacher than herself. She had never asked students to write reflections on their lessons and she found these reflections illuminating. She now had a much clearer idea of the students’ uptake and what she should focus on. For example, the high percentage of students who demonstrated only partial comprehension of the poem and the small number of students who were able to elaborate on the main themes compared to Teacher E’s class suggested that she should elaborate more on her explanations. Moreover, she realized that the lack of elaboration was also one of the reasons why her students tended to find her lesson somewhat heavy going. A soul-searching conference ensued. Teacher E shared his dilemma with the team. As a Chinese teacher, he felt that he had the responsibility to inculcate moral values and that spending more class time on moral and values education was more important than on the explication de texte.2 Yet it was clear that not enough time was spent on helping students to understand the poem. Teacher E said, “What the students have learnt is a reflection of what the teacher has taught them.” He raised the following questions: When explaining the meaning of a word, or a piece of text, how detailed does my explanation have to be? Should I bring in important topics such as views about life? If I simply stick to what has been covered in detail in the textbooks, students would fi nd it boring. But if I bring in other related issues, I might digress too much, and this in turn may affect students’ performance in examinations which focus very much on text comprehension. Yet I do not think that one should teach the students just to prepare them for examination. How does one strike a balance?

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Resolving the dichotomy. The team engaged in intensive discussions and another UT who had been involved in the interpretation of the findings was also brought in. In the course of the conference, it transpired that Teacher E’s dilemma derived from his conception of text comprehension and moral education as dichotomous. The question of what was the object of learning in these lessons was raised, a question which the MTs seldom asked explicitly. In relation to this question, a further question was raised with regard to whether Chinese literature was simply a medium to convey its values or whether the aesthetic, stylistic, syntactic and semantic dimensions of language should also be objects of learning. The team came to the view that the two were mutually constitutive. A profound understanding of the poem could not be achieved without understanding how the poet employed linguistic techniques to drive home his message. Students could not fully appreciate one without the other. This exploration challenged Teacher E’s conception of teaching in a fundamental way. Teacher E was keen to change his approach to teaching, and he wanted to investigate whether this change would lead to better student learning outcome. Hence, the assessment tool was appropriated as a mediating artifact and further lesson studies were conducted. However, the motive and the object of the activity system were changed from implementing a new curriculum approach to adopting a new approach to teaching. In the following year, Teacher E conducted the same lesson again. To help students to understand both the message and the form, he took measures to ensure that he did not digress too much from the text, such as making annotations in his textbook to remind himself of this, and he constantly referred to the annotations in his textbook although he already knew the poem by heart. He also gave notes to his students, which he never did before, as an auxiliary tool to understand the text and as a basis on which he could provide more examples. The student reflections that he collected at the end of the unit showed that his students demonstrated much deeper understanding of the poem and were able to elaborate on the text. The same assessment tool was used to investigate student learning outcome. The results showed marked improvement. More than 70% of the students were able to grasp the main themes and there were very few irrelevant comments. Their per formance in Assessment Task 2 also demonstrated understanding at a higher cognitive level. Teacher E shared his new conception of the teaching of Chinese literature as follows: Previously, I used the main text as a springboard for exploring moral values. My understanding at the time was that [although] the text was not unimportant . . . moral values were more important because

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making decisions in life is more important. Now, I think it is through understanding the text that the students should learn to appreciate the moral dilemma that the poet was faced with and how he made important decisions about the kind of life that he wants to lead. This is the point of departure for exploring moral values with students.

Boundary Crossing and Expansive Learning In explicating expansive learning which involves multiple activity systems and boundary crossing, Engeström (2001) has outlined five principles of activity theory to make sense of the expansive learning that took place in a hospital setting in Finland. They comprise the activity system as a unit of analysis, multivoicedness, historicity, contradictions as the driving force of change in activity and expansive transformations in activity. We would like to suggest that these principles are also characteristics of expansive learning when communities of practice interact and community boundaries are crossed. In Case 1, the goal of the activity was to teach reading strategies required in the new Chinese curriculum and RT was a boundary object that was brokered by the UTs for achieving the goal. The exploration of pedagogy was mediated by another boundary object, lesson study. In Case 2, the goal of the activity was the exploration of how the parameters laid down by the new Chinese curriculum would be realized in the teaching of a classical Chinese poem. Similar to Case 1, two boundary objects were brokered by the UTs for investigating teaching efficacy, lesson study and assessment tools. Activity systems are typically characterized by “multivoicedness” since multiple participants are involved, with multiple perspectives and interests because of their different positions in the systems and their own histories. The system itself also carries multilayers of history which are embedded in the artifacts, the participant structure, the rules and the conventions, as Engeström (2001) points out. In both cases, the adoption of lesson study involving a team of teachers to interrogate pedagogy afforded multiple perspectives on the same phenomena. The participants had different conceptions of teaching and learning realized through their pedagogical foci and classroom practices, and different images about themselves as teachers. The different conceptions and images impinged on their interpretation of classroom events and student learning outcomes. In other words, although the activity systems were new, the “historicity” of all the components in the activity systems impacted on their interrelationships, as well as the tensions and contradictions generated.

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In Case 1, the four teachers had different teaching experiences and beliefs about learning. Whereas Teacher A and Teacher B were open to challenges, the other two teachers, who were less experienced, tended to wait and see before engaging in the RT teaching. On the other hand, as Teacher A and Teacher B were experienced teachers, they had firmly held beliefs about the need for teacher guidance in learning which contributed to the consequent modification of RT. In Case 2, Teacher E’s historicity as a model teacher, celebrated in the mass media, emulated by his peers and admired by his students, had shaped his image of himself as an efficacious Chinese-language teacher who gave top priority to moral responsibility. Therefore, despite the fact that different perspectives were offered by other members of the team on his pedagogical focus and student learning in his classroom, he remained unconvinced. Similarly, Teacher F’s perspective on Teacher E’s lesson was shaped by her own historicity as an efficacious teacher who was able to help students achieve good examination results, though she was not as popular as Teacher E with the students. Engeström’s principle of contradiction was adopted from Il’enkov’s (1977, 1982) theory of internal contradiction as a driving force for change and is Marxist in orientation. According to Engeström (2001): When an activity system adopts a new element from the outside (for example, a new technology or a new object), it often leads to an aggravated secondary contradiction where some old element (for example, the rules or the division of labor) collides with the new one. Such contradictions generate disturbances and conflicts, but also innovative attempts to change the activity. (p. 137) In Case 1, the adoption of RT into the system generated contradictions between the teachers’ existing approach to the teaching of reading and the new approach. The four teachers were accustomed to direct instruction and “well-disciplined” classrooms. The traditional lessons were teacher controlled, with clear teaching objectives determined by the teacher, and the students’ learning outcomes were predictable. By contrast, RT lessons were characterized by student-led activities, student exploration of learning objectives and unanticipated student learning outcomes. As Wertsch (1998) points out, the emergence or adoption of new cultural tools could transform power and authority relationships. The new participant structure entailed by RT created contradictions between old and new conceptions of power and role relationships between the teacher and the students. Similarly, in Case 2, the adoption of a new cultural tool, a new form of assessing student learning outcome, into the activity system generated

Mutual Engagement and Boundary Crossing in Lesson Studies • 129

contradictions. Teacher E formulated his own subjective means of assessing the learning outcome of his students, based on their responses in class (i.e., whether they were busily taking notes), his elimination of students who were not responsive (i.e., “the hopeless ones will fall asleep whatever you do”), and his dismissal of examination results. A contradiction was generated between his own subjective evaluation of his teaching and the intersubjectivity that was afforded by the new assessment tool, which no longer allowed him to dismiss the assessment results as irrelevant. This contradiction challenged his hitherto firmly held conceptions of teaching and his self-image as an efficacious teacher. When contradictions emerge, they may render the system dysfunctional if unresolved (see also Wenger, 1998). However, they may also be resolved collaboratively, leading to a reconceptualization or a change in the object and motive of the activity which allows for new possibilities. As mentioned in Chapter 2, the activities undergo expansive transformation, and the expansive learning that has taken place produces “culturally new patterns of activity” (Engeström, 2001, p. 139). In Case 1, the orthodox RT approach was modified collaboratively to resolve the contradictions. The four teachers integrated teacher-led instruction and student-led discussion in their classrooms. New activities and reading materials were designed to arouse students’ interests. When the teachers started to come to grips with engaging students in dialogic participation during the lessons, they began to discern the different patterns of learning in classrooms. Students not only learned how to use the four strategies to comprehend the text, they also participated in the learning process actively. The teachers were excited to discover that students’ questions and discussions were of high quality. At the beginning of the collaboration, the panel head (Teacher A) merely wanted to see how reading strategies could be taught in the new curriculum. The appropriation of the cultural tool, RT, changed the nature of the activity system. Teachers experienced how students took on an active role in learning, and this led them to rethink their teaching approaches and their conceptions of teaching. The activity system was transformed from merely focusing on teaching reading strategies as its object to enhancing students’ thinking skills and the quality of learning. In Case 2, the false pedagogical dichotomy which had dominated Teacher E’s pedagogical thinking for a long time was revealed in the course of resolving the contradictions collaboratively. In other words, the assessment tool which was brokered as a means of assessing student learning outcome in the new curriculum took on a different function and meaning. It was no longer just a tool for assessing learning outcome, but also a tool for teachers to examine their own pedagogy. The subsequent appropriation

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of the assessment tool as a mediating tool for investigating teaching efficacy changed the nature of the activity system, including its object and motive. The expansive learning that took place was a reconceptualization on the part of Teacher E of the relationship between moral education and language education as mutually constitutive rather than dichotomous. The expansive learning that took place for Teacher F was a redress in the balance between text-based teaching and extrapolations from the texts. Boundary crossing brought about expansive learning not only for MTs but also for UTs. In Case 1, the UT’s knowledge about RT from research papers was “knowing-that” which was not supported by “knowing-how” (Ryle, 1949). Most research studies on RT that she had come across focused on its effectiveness in improving students’ reading comprehension and its impact on learning communities. Only a few of them (e.g., Hacker & Tenent, 2002) investigated the difficulties of implementing RT in classrooms. During the RT sessions, the UT was confronted with contradictions in implementation which were specific to the context of the activity. As pointed out in Chapter 2, it is in engaging with the activity and interacting with the teachers and with the cultural tool to resolve the contradictions that a new understanding of RT in terms of “knowing-how” was formed (Cole, 1998; Wertsch, 1998). In Case 2, the UTs used the new assessment tools, including tests, written tasks and reflection sheets for measuring students’ learning outcome. The lesson study helped the UTs to reconceptualize the assessment tools not just as a way for gauging how the new Chinese curriculum could be effectively implemented but also as a powerful tool for bringing about teacher change.

Concluding Remarks Wenger (2003) points out the importance of the processes that take place at community boundaries. He observes, “The learning and innovative potential of a social learning system lies in its configuration of strong core practices and active boundary processes” (Wenger, 2003, p. 85). In this chapter, we have focused on the learning that was afforded through a school-university partnership by investigating two specific cases of boundary crossing. Drawing on Wenger’s framework of community boundary and boundary crossing and activity theory, we examined how the UTs, as boundary brokers, introduced boundary objects from their own community of practice into the community of practice of school teachers. In both cases, lesson study was adopted as a mediating tool to engage UTs and MTs collaboratively in the actual teaching and learning context. We have shown how the contradictions that were generated by the introduction of boundary objects led to expansive learning, not only for the MTs but also

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for UTs. Through mutual engagement in lesson studies, MTs and UTs resolved those contradictions and transformed the existing activity systems into new activity systems with new motives and objects. The discussion in this chapter showed that opportunities for powerful learning are afforded at community boundaries which are characterized by the divergence of experience and competence, multiple perspectives and multivoicedness. It is through mutual engagement typified by sustained interaction that learning takes place in which new insights are gained, new relationships are formed and new communities of practice emerge.

Notes 1. The university tutor involved in this case study is the fi rst author, Doris Law, of this chapter. 2. It is a widely shared assumption among Chinese-language teachers that they have the “additional” responsibility of inculcating moral values in their lessons.

CHAPTER

7

Connecting Communities of Practice ALBERT WONG AND GWYN EDWARDS

Introduction This chapter focuses on learning afforded at the boundaries of communities of practice. The chapter begins by highlighting the significance of boundaries and boundary connections in sociocultural and social theories of learning. It goes on to describe how a Teacher Fellowship Scheme was established within the school-university partnership to provide opportunities for learning by connecting various communities of practice. It then examines the opportunities for learning that this nexus of communities afforded the teacher fellows (hereafter TFs) through intense and sustained mutual engagement with practitioners from communities of practice other than their own. Finally, the chapter focuses on the experience of one of the TFs as a broker promoting professional learning within his school. Boundaries As mentioned in Chapter 2, “boundary” is an integral concept in Wenger’s social theory of learning. Communities of practice do not exist in isolation and, therefore, cannot be understood independently of each other. Boundaries are important in that they not only connect communities but also “offer learning opportunities in their own right” (Wenger, 132

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2003, p. 84). Learning opportunities at the boundaries of a community, however, are different from those at the core. Learning at the core arises because competence and experience need to converge in order for a community to exist. Learning at the boundaries, in contrast, is brought about by the divergence of experience and competence, as we have seen in Chapter 6. Thus, the capacity for learning in communities of practice is enhanced when their core and their boundaries are active in complementary ways. Boundary encounters may take the form of one-on-one conversations between individuals from different communities, visits by a member or members of one community to another, or delegations of a number of participants from two or more communities. Such encounters are usually single or discrete events of limited duration. More long-lived connections are possible when the form of connection is practice itself. Wenger (1998) identifies three types of practice-based connections. Boundary practices are likely to emerge if a boundary encounter becomes established and provides a forum for mutual engagement over an extended period of time. Overlaps are the consequence of direct and sustained common ground between two practices. Peripheries are created when communities of practice are open to people who are not on a trajectory to become full members. Peripheries afford people various forms of legitimate access to a community of practice without subjecting them to the demands of full membership. Such peripherality can include observation, but it can also extend beyond mere observation and involve forms of actual engagement. Boundary Objects, Brokering and Boundary Spanning Wenger (1998) posits boundary objects and brokering as two types of boundary connections that correspond to reification and participation, respectively. He appropriates from Star and Griesemer (1989) the term “boundary objects” to describe the artifacts, documents, terms, concepts and other forms of reification around which communities of practice can organize their interconnections. According to Star and Griesemer, “boundary objects” is an analytical concept of those objects, be they abstract or concrete, “which both inhabit several intersecting social worlds and satisfy the informational requirements of each of them” (p. 393). Such objects are flexible enough to adapt to local needs, yet robust enough to maintain a common identity across sites. While they have different meanings in different social worlds, their structure is sufficiently common to more than one world to make them recognizable. As such, boundary objects provide “mediating tools” for collaboration and knowledge exchange between communities of practice. However, the sharing of boundary objects does not imply overlap in participation and, conversely, participation in multiple

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communities does not necessarily entail cross-boundary transference of objects. Wenger (1998) maintains that in order to enhance the complementarity of participation and reification, it is often desirable to have people and objects travel together, the former being able to interpret and negotiate the relevance of the latter in the new context. In combination, “the ambiguity of reification and the partiality of participation can compensate for each other to become powerful and productive interactional resources” (p. 112). Wenger (1998) adopts the term “brokering” to describe the use of multimembership to introduce elements of one practice into another. He claims that those engaging in the act of brokering “are able to make new connections, enable coordination and—if they are good brokers—open new possibilities of meaning” (p. 109). It is a complex enterprise in that it “involves processes of translation, coordination and alignment between perspectives [and] . . . requires enough legitimacy to influence the development of practice, mobilize attention, and address conflicting interests” (ibid.). Brokering usually involves the spanning of boundaries between different communities of practice in some way or other. Social scientists have long recognized that boundary-spanning activities have a strategic role in fostering innovation within organizations. Such activities serve primarily to mediate the transfer of information from external sources into an organization’s internal communication network (Tushman, 1977). In the literature, various apposite names have been coined for organizational members who engage in boundary-spanning activities including comprador, gatekeeper, sparkplug, collabronaut and boundroid. However, they are most commonly referred to, simply, as boundary spanners. A number of research studies have sought to identify the roles boundary spanners are expected to perform, or actually do perform, in organizations. Ansett (2005), for example, deems the key activities of the boundary-spanning role to include creating and maintaining internal and external networks; identifying issues, translating knowledge back into the organizational culture; influencing and educating internal and external stakeholders; creating buy-in and support and identifying internal seniorlevel champions. For Bradshaw (1999), boundary spanners need to listen, conduct needs assessments, identify resources, build consensus, and develop plans. Moreover, to accomplish the role successfully they need to believe that collaboration can address complex problems and to have abilities in obtaining and distributing information strategically, seeing problems in new ways, crafting solutions and developing and supporting the skills of others. Other research has focused more specifically on identifying the charac-

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teristics and behaviors of competent boundary spanners (see, for example, Williams, 2002). Those commonly cited include diplomacy, tact, tolerance, approachability, reliability, commitment, openness, sincerity and honesty—constituting in Fairtlough’s (1994, p. 137) view “an impossible string of virtues.” Trust, in particular, has been identified as one of the most important factors contributing to effective boundary-spanning activities which inevitably entail a degree of uncertainty and risk (Bachmann, 2001; Grandori & Soda, 1995; Sydow, 1998; Webb, 1991). Indeed, some researchers argue that it is a necessary condition for collaborative behavior among individuals, groups and organizations. As Webb (1991, p. 237) points out, “collaborative behavior is hardly conceivable where trusting attitudes are absent.” Based on a synthesis of preexisting literature, Newell and Swan (2000) propose a threefold typology of trust. Companion trust is based on judgments of goodwill or personal friendship that develop over time as people get to know each other personally through continuing reciprocal exchange. Competence trust is based on perceptions of the others’ capability to undertake the tasks they need to perform in order to complete their share of the enterprise in hand. In short, the truster feels that the trustee can be relied upon. Commitment trust derives from a contractual agreement between parties. As the contractual relationship is expected to be mutually beneficial, each party believes that the other(s) can be trusted to put in the necessary effort to carry out the task to which they are jointly committed. Levina and Vaast (2005a) posit a number of categorical differentiations which together provide an integrated framework for analyzing boundary-spanning activities. First, they differentiate between “nominated boundary spanners” and “boundary spanners-in-practice.” The former refers to agents who are symbolically distinguished within their organization as boundary spanners but nevertheless do not engage in boundary-spanning activities. Contrariwise, the latter refers to agents who, with or without nomination, actually engage in boundary-spanning activities, “relating practices in one field to practices in another by negotiating the means and terms of the relationship” (p. 337). Second, they differentiate between “designated boundary objects” and “boundaryobjects-in-use.” The former refers to certain artifacts that are designated as valuable by agents within organizations who hold positions of power but which may not, however, become boundary-objects-in-use. To become boundary-objects-in-use, artifacts “have to be locally useful (i.e., be meaningfully and usefully incorporated into practices of diverse fields) and must have a common identity across fields” (p. 339). Third, in a separate paper (Levina & Vaast, 2005b), they differentiate between “collaborate” and “transactive” boundary-spanning practices. The former is

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characterized by agents engaging jointly in the production of shared objects and the latter by agents exchanging separately produced objects. A key outcome of collaborative boundary-spanning practices is a jointly produced set of objects that can be used by agents outside the context in which it was produced. However, Levina and Vaast forewarn that a truly collaborative boundary-spanning practice is a “delicate flower” that “can easily deteriorate into a transactive practice if one party imposes objects that represent their interest on another party or ignores objects produced by the other” (2005b, p. 3).

The Rationale of the Fellowship Scheme During the early stages of the establishment of school-university partnership at the University of Hong Kong (HKU), there existed a number of channels of communication between the university and partnership schools including, among others, correspondence by letters, circulation of newsletters and handbooks with guidelines for mentor teachers (MTs) and occasional meetings between principals and teachers of partnership schools and faculty members, as we have seen in Chapter 1. These channels of communication helped to facilitate the administration of the placement of students in schools for teaching practicum and avoided or at least reduced possible breakdowns in communication but stopped short of making any significant impact on promoting learning across communities. Communication was mainly one-way in nature; that is, information was conveyed unilaterally from the university to schools. It was not uncommon for some of this information to be interpreted other than intended, leading to misunderstanding and breakdown in communication between schools and the university. For instance, even though teachers were fully briefed on what the mentor’s role was, few mentors had a clear idea as to how they should play the role and yet fewer knew why they were expected to perform the role. This problem was partly addressed by providing training to mentors and prospective mentors through the organization of mentoring workshops. These workshops provided valuable meeting opportunities for university tutors (UTs) and MTs. The workshops were, however, only one or two hours in duration and focused mainly on briefing MTs on procedural matters regarding the arrangements of teaching practicum for the student teachers (STs), leaving very little time for the sharing of views among participants. In short, these workshops, although useful, were discrete in nature and they at best functioned as transactive boundary-spanning practices of limited duration which did little to promote learning across communities of practice. For ongoing mutual learning to take place, it appeared that

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more systematic and sustained cross-boundary engagements were called for. This view finds support in Wenger’s assertion that “if a boundary encounter—especially of the delegation variety—becomes established and provides an ongoing forum for mutual engagement, then a [boundary] practice is likely to start emerging” (ibid., p. 114). Boundary practices offer ongoing connections across communities of practice that go beyond boundary encounters and, potentially, provide powerful opportunities for mutual learning. Viewed from Wenger’s social theory of learning, the interconnections between the university and the schools in the early stages of partnership were inadequate because the interconnections were mainly reificative and there were no people accompanying the artifacts. In other words, what was lacking were the people to transfer the elements of university practice to school practice and vice versa so as to reap the advantage of the complementarity between participation and reification. In order to strengthen the interconnections between the university and partnership schools, the Fellowship Scheme was set up so that school teachers were able to, in Wenger’s term, “visit the practice” of the university and engage in sustained and intensive learning in order to take up the roles of brokers when they returned to their schools, thus promoting learning across communities of practice through the synergy of reification and participation. The Fellowship Scheme As mentioned in Chapter 1, the Teacher Fellowship Scheme is an integral part of the partnership in which teachers are released from teaching duties for a period of three months to participate in a range of professional development activities in the Faculty of Education of the University of Hong Kong. These Teacher Fellows (TFs) were mainly senior members of staff in schools, including principals, deputy principals, heads of departments and teachers responsible for mentoring or staff development. The Fellowship Scheme operated from April through June each year so that principals, if they preferred to, were able to release senior form teachers who teach Secondary Five (Grade 10) or Secondary Seven (Grade 12) classes when their students had to attend the school-leaving public examination or the university entrance examination. To ensure that the TFs acquired the capability to perform the role of broker, the professional activities in which they were engaged would need to be intense, sustained and focused, and the ad hoc boundary encounters would need to become ongoing boundary practices. The Fellowship Scheme comprised five key components, namely, mentoring, professional development and professional learning, pedagogy of teaching, lesson analysis and lesson study. In the mentoring component,

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teachers were introduced to the skills and strategies central to mentoring, the concept of progressive collaborative teaching (Tomlinson, 1995), how to set up a mentoring system in school and how this system may contribute to the professional development of mentees and mentors alike. The professional development and professional learning component was concerned with the career development of teachers, enhancement of self-esteem, the use of critical incidents as opportunities for professional learning, the initiation of changes in schools and the exposure of the TFs to a repertoire of alternative pedagogical strategies and school cultures through the organization of a series of visits to schools and other institutions. The pedagogy of teaching component centered on the affective domain of teaching and learning by reflective engagement with lived experience through the practice of phenomenological writing (Van Manen, 2002). The lesson analysis component concentrated on the cognitive domain of teaching and learning by enabling the TFs to carry out systematic, in-depth analysis of a range of lessons taught in various subject areas through the application of the theory of variation (Marton & Booth, 1997). The lesson study component focused on the cycle of lesson study (Stigler & Hiebert, 1999) by enabling the TFs to work in small groups in close collaboration throughout the cycle of lesson study which involved collaborative planning, teaching, evaluating, revising and reteaching lessons in different subject areas. Lectures, seminars and workshops on these key components were provided by staff of the university and visiting scholars from overseas. The TFs also organized regular sharing sessions which provided opportunities for them to interact among themselves and to reflect individually as well as collectively on significant issues arising from the range of activities they engaged in. Additionally, they were able to interact and share their insights with the broader professional community through participation in the following activities. First, they visited nonmainstream schools such as special education schools and schools that are allowed greater automony in curriculum decisions because of their different government funding arrangements. Second, they conducted workshops in conjunction with university staff on mentoring and seminars on lesson study for MTs in clusters of schools in the school-university partnership scheme.1 Third, they participated in the production of the Partnership Quarterly Newsletter, which was circulated to over two hundred secondary schools, representing nearly 50% of the total number of secondary schools in Hong Kong. Fourth, they produced VCDs that recorded the processes of their engagement in lesson study over a range of subjects and which were circulated to all the secondary schools in Hong Kong. Finally, they presented and shared their experience in and insights on mentoring, lesson study and other important issues in education at the annual Partnership Conference held before the summer break.

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Learning Afforded by the Fellowship Scheme Based on the analysis of interviews with a cohort of 16 teachers who completed the Fellowship Scheme, there are compelling grounds for claiming that they found the three months at the university a valuable experience. Disengagement from their schools for a significant period of time and exposure to practices in other schools enabled them to transcend the insularity of their “locally ingrained” (Wenger, 1998, p. 175) practices and to connect with broader enterprises. They were given the “space, time and environment” (TF 4) to reflect upon their own pedagogy and practice and envisage possible alternatives. They had the opportunity to work hand in hand with each other and with members from other communities of practice including teacher educators, whether local or from overseas, to investigate in-depth issues in education that they considered to be significant. These experiences, they believed, provided them with the opportunity to develop themselves as enlightened teaching professionals. Visions and perspectives were “broadened” (TFs 2, 14, 15) or “widened” (TF 8), thinking “expanded” (TF 2) and values “changed” (TF 8). TF 7, who had taught in the same school for eighteen years and whose vision was consequently “very narrow,” likened the experience to “opening a door” and entering a different world. In other words, these activities helped to forge their identity as a member of the teaching professional above and beyond their own school community through not only “engagement” in practice but also through “alignment” of their goals with the broader and higher goals of the profession, and through “imagination” (Wenger, 1998). As mentioned earlier, the Fellowship Scheme required the participants to engage with each other and with university faculty in a number of activities that entailed working across community boundaries. Wenger (1998) argues that if a boundary encounter becomes established and provides a forum for mutual engagement over an extended period of time, then a boundary practice is likely to emerge. Its enterprise is to sustain a connection between a number of other practices as “a form of collective brokering” (p. 114). It was these boundary practice activities that the TFs considered to be their richest source of learning. In contrast, theoretical ideas, although appreciated for their intrinsic interest, were not deemed to be immediately useful. These could be set aside and “fully digested and assimilated” (TF 13) at a later date. Most of the TFs demonstrated an eagerness to play the role of broker when they returned to their schools. Indeed, some of them saw it as a moral obligation given the trust invested in them by the school and sacrifices their colleagues made to enable them to participate in the scheme. However, two of the TFs anticipated that their capacity to broker new ideas

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might be compromised by the power structures existing in their schools. One wanted to introduce lesson study to his school but dared not do so on a large scale because there was a vice-principal responsible for academic administration whom he “respected” and did not want to “overshadow.” He guessed that he would be able to carry out lesson study on a large scale only after the vice-principal retired. In the meantime he would have to be content with implementing lesson study in his own subject panel. The other also wanted to implement lesson study in his school but questioned his ability to do so because his influence was “still limited.” Even so, he too anticipated that he could implement it in his own subject panel where he had some influence.

Teacher Fellow as Boundary Broker: The Case of John While clearly providing a valuable learning experience to the participants in its own right, the effectiveness of the Fellowship Scheme has to be judged ultimately in terms of the changes that the TFs were able to bring about in the educational practices of their respective school. Using the terminology of Levina and Vaast (2005a), the TFs were “nominated boundary spanners” in that they had been empowered by their schools to span boundaries, but it remained to be seen whether they would become effective “boundary-spanners-in-use.” One of the major activities on the Fellowship Scheme was for each TF to draw up a development plan to be implemented in their school. A substantial number of these development plans focused on the implementation of lesson study since a major emphasis of the Fellowship Scheme was the improvement of the quality of teaching and learning through lesson study and lesson analysis. Other development plans focused on the implementation of school-based professional development; the introduction of systems of staff appraisal including self-evaluation schemes for teachers and the setting up and development of mentoring systems. As previously mentioned, most of the TFs were eager to play the role of broker on returning to their schools, even though some were unsure of their capacity to do so. Taking the 2002 cohort as an example, one year later all TFs except one (who had changed schools) reported that they had been able to implement the development plan in their schools. Reported below is a study of how one of the TFs (hereafter referred to fictitiously as John) implemented the development plans in his school. Data for the study were generated from a series of interviews with John, his principal and three teachers in the school. When he participated in the Fellowship Scheme, John was teaching in a CMI (i.e., Chinese as a medium of instruction) secondary school2 which

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had been established three years earlier in a new, developing suburban area. In the academic year 2002–2003, there were 27 classes from Secondary One (S1, i.e., Grade 7) to Secondary Six (Grade 13) (this being the first year that the school offered Form 6) and 59 members of the teaching staff including the principal. John joined the school in the year it was founded as a teacher of Economics and Social Studies and had been the coordinator of the Economics Department as well as the Department of Civic Education for a number of years. John was selected by the principal to participate in the Fellowship Scheme for two reasons. First, he was recognized by his colleagues as an outstanding teacher with an excellent record in terms of students’ public examination performance. Second, the principal believed that John possessed the ability to disseminate the gains he was expected to accrue from the Fellowship Scheme and, in his principal’s words, “propel professional development in the school.” The professional development plan that John drew up while participating in the Fellowship Scheme was specifically designed to build upon and integrate two existing practices in his school, namely, collaborative lesson preparation and lesson observation. The school had instituted lesson observation as a formal practice from its inception and a few years later had set aside a period in every cycle for collaborative lesson preparation in the junior forms for each of the five major subjects: English, Chinese, Mathematics, Social Studies and Science. John could offer no explanation as to why peer lesson observation had been implemented by the school other than it being “a common practice in Hong Kong schools.” In a similar vein, collaborative lesson preparation had been “copied from China” by a committee within the school responsible for teaching quality but with “no knowledge of how it worked.” John explained that shortly after the implementation, things began to go wrong. The school required teachers to engage in lesson observation two or three times a year but there was no special team in charge, and its implementation was very much left to the initiative of individual teachers. No preobservation meetings were held, so the observing teachers knew nothing about the lesson they were to observe and afterward tended to give very general comments. The usual practice was, as John put it, “to watch the lesson, write a report and hand it in to the school.” This was perceived by the teachers as an assessment of their competence and therefore they felt pressured to perform well. One teacher interviewed likened it to observations done by university lecturers during the practicum in initial teacher training. The lesson preparation periods were equally dysfunctional. According to the teachers, they would talk about the lesson for a short time but soon turned their attention to other things, often mundane administrative matters.

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During the Fellowship Scheme, John was introduced to the Japanese model of lesson study as advocated by Stigler and Hiebert (1999). John produced a professional development plan with a view to integrating the practices of lesson preparation and lesson observation in this model into the existing practice in his own school. On returning to the school he discussed his professional development plan with the principal, who thought that lesson study was a good idea and, consequently, invited him to set up workshops in the school to explain its purpose and procedures to his colleagues. The goal, as seen by John, “was to enable the teachers of the whole school to apply the model to facilitate their professional development.” John made sure that his colleagues were familiarized with the what, the how and the why of lesson study before it was implemented in the school. This was achieved through providing ample opportunities to share with his colleagues, both formally and informally, his thoughts, knowledge and experience of conducting lesson study. He organized a Professional Development Day that first presented to his colleagues action research that had been undertaken by the Chinese-language teachers in the school and then introduced them to the concept, theory and process of lesson study. His intention was to demonstrate that action research and lesson study were both cyclic in nature and thereby to reassure his colleagues that he was not introducing something that was alien to the school. Further workshops followed in which he made use of the VCDs on lesson study that he had been involved in producing as a TF. John considered the VCDs important because “they provided an object for the teachers to discuss.” John also prepared a handbook “for teacher to follow.” At the end of the first year of implementation, the school invited staff from the university to evaluate the lesson study project so that, in the words of John, “we had some idea of how we had performed, where we had done well and how we could do better.” In implementing the lesson study project, the teachers of each form were required to conduct a lesson study in their subject once a year. Thus, early in the school year, they collectively identified what topics to focus upon. Then, they talked about the teaching content and explored possible pedagogical strategies. Finally, they collectively prepared the teaching materials. In this way, teachers were actually making good use of the lesson preparation periods to prepare for lesson study. According to John, they now had a clear sense of direction and a sharpened focus on the aims and objectives of collaborative lesson preparation, unlike previously when they only had vague ideas but did not know what exactly they wanted to do and how to go about doing it. He described the difference as follows: When we plan a lesson now, we are very clear about what we are going to teach in that lesson. When we observe the teaching of our

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colleagues, we know clearly what the objectives of the lesson are and the criteria for evaluating the lesson. The practice of lesson study in the school was further facilitated by the acquisition of government funding to install a Micro-lesson Observation System which equipped each teaching room with connection points for two ceiling-mounted DVD cameras. This simple and user-friendly device, according to the principal, was superior to previous practice in which teachers had to use two tripod-mounted video cameras to videotape the class observations themselves. Now, teachers could observe their colleagues’ lesson unobtrusively on closed-circuit television in a separate observation room. Moreover, they no longer had to edit the tapes and convert them to DVD format. This lightened teachers’ workload considerably. The positive impact of John’s participation in the Fellowship Scheme on the school was substantiated by the principal, who confirmed that beforehand “none of the teachers knew what lesson study was about.” The principal believed that John had gained “a solid theoretical basis” and benefited from sharing experiences with teachers from other schools. Moreover, he was “more confident in carry ing out his work” after completion of the Fellowship Scheme. Consequently, he was able “to convince other colleagues that what he had learnt could really work.” What John brought back from the university “provided the school with a driving force in its development.” In particular, lesson study had enabled the teachers to become “more focused and reflective in their daily teaching.” The positive impact was also affirmed by his colleagues. Compared with the previous practices of collaborative lesson preparation and lesson observation, lesson study was perceived by the teachers to be more systematic, continuous and focused, carried out for professional growth rather than to merely fulfill an organizational requirement. As one teacher explained, “there are pre-discussions [and] post-discussions and in the process we have to prepare the materials as a team and discuss with our colleagues how we can teach the lesson better.” Of particular value to the teachers were the handbooks, guidebooks and articles that John brought back from the university. Collectively, these artifacts helped the teachers “to understand what lesson study is about,” as recounted by John. John attributed the successful implementation of lesson study in his school to five main factors. First, the school accorded high priority to professional development and had cultivated a collaborative culture among the teachers. Therefore it provided a supportive environment for the introduction of lesson study. Second, as a recently established new school, the teachers were relatively young, with less variation in terms of experience and, in John’s view, were more amenable to new ideas. Th ird, a significant

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proportion of teachers had recently undertaken initial teacher courses where they had encountered the idea of lesson study or similar professional activities and an increasing number of more established teachers were undertaking master’s degree programs. Fourth, the principal was supportive and insisted that lesson study should be a whole-school professional development activity. Fift h, John was given formal responsibility for coordinating the lesson study project and became a member of the staff development team. These appointments reified and hence legitimated his brokering of lesson study in the school. His authority was further enhanced by being promoted to a higher position in the school, although the promotion was not connected to his responsibility for coordinating the lesson study project. In the context of exploring his role as a boundary broker, John pointed out that he did not seek to introduce an idea which was completely new or alien to the school. Rather, he sought to build upon and integrate the existing practices of lesson preparation and lesson observation. It was not a matter of doing something new but of doing things that were already being practiced but in a more systematic and critical manner. Moreover, he recognized that lesson study had to be adapted to fit in with the existing culture of the school. He explained that while learning about the theory of lesson study at the university he was at the same time considering how to apply it in the context of his school. He reasoned that if lesson study was perceived by the teachers to be too far removed from their existing practices then it would likely be resisted. Thus he acted as a mediator, making appropriate modifications in order to make the idea of lesson study more accessible and attractive to his colleagues. He saw his role as “communicating in the middle, bringing colleagues the message.” John compared this with the policy-driven approach being adopted by the government for bringing about change in schools. In his view, teachers were being summoned by policy documents to bring about change but were not being provided with the necessary support to do so. He explained that when teachers engage with policy documents “they don’t know what they are all about [and] they don’t have a channel to understand them.” Referring to his own role, he commented, “When they do not understand, they can ask me; when I see that they do things wrongly, I can correct them.”

Discussion Together, the formal evaluation of the Fellowship Scheme and the case study of John bear testimony to the kind of expansive learning that can take place at community of practice boundaries. The Fellowship Scheme could have resulted in little more than a series of boundary encounters but

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what actually emerged bore all the hallmarks of a practice in its own right. The TFs not only encountered and gained an understanding of boundary objects such as lesson study but also collaborated in the production of new boundary objects such as the lesson study VCDs and the Partnership Quarterly Newsletter which they then collectively utilized to foster professional dialogue and promote professional development across community boundaries. In essence, the Fellowship Scheme shifted boundary-spanning practices within the school-university partnership substantially toward the collaborative end of the transactive-collaborative continuum. In introducing lesson study in the school, the crucial task for John was that of alignment. Wenger posits engagement, imagination and alignment as three modes of belonging (see also Chapters 3 and 6 and earlier discussion in this chapter) that contribute to the development of communities of practice as social learning systems. Alignment is the mode of belonging by which communities of practice coordinate their energy and activities to ensure that local activities are made congruent with broader structures and enterprises, and that the goals of the former are in line with that of the latter. This does not imply a one-way process of compliance with external authority, but “a mutual process of coordinating perspectives, interpretations and actions so that they realize higher goals” (Wenger, 2003, p. 79). Wenger (1998) maintains that as such, alignment across communities requires specific forms of participation and reification. It requires participation in boundary practices by people with multimembership who can span boundaries and carry out the work of translation. With insufficient participation, relations to broader enterprises tend to remain “literal and procedural” and coordination tends to be based on “compliance rather than participation in meaning” (Wenger, 1998, p. 187). It requires reification in the form of boundary objects which provide fi xed points around which activities can be coordinated. Professional activities such as classroom observation, lesson preparation and lesson study are all boundary objects in that they are forms of reification that are flexible enough to adapt to local needs, yet robust enough to maintain a common identity across sites. They provide the fi xed points around which communities of practice can organize their interconnections. However, the introduction of these boundary objects into John’s school differed in that lesson study was accompanied by a broker whereas classroom observation and lesson preparation were not. In terms of the analytical framework proposed by Levina and Vaast (2005a), classroom observation and lesson preparation were “designated boundary objects” in that they were endowed with symbolic value by members of the organization in positions of power but had not become “boundary-objects-in-use.” Having been arbitrarily appropriated by the school through “transactive”

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boundary-spanning practices, these activities were carried out in a perfunctory manner with little opportunity for the teachers to engage mutually in the negotiation of their meaning. In contrast, John was shrewd enough to recognize that boundary objects have no fi xed meaning. Rather, their meaning is negotiated through their use in specific social contexts. Consequently, he engaged his colleagues in the process of meaning making when he introduced lesson study to the school. Staff development days were organized, artifacts such as the handbook were produced, and videotapes showing how lesson study was done were utilized. The participation and reification that these activities and resources entailed provided the means for alignment—the means for making participants connected by coordinating their energies and actions to achieve certain goals. Alignment involves the directing and control of energy and by implication involves the exercise of power. Power, Wenger (1998) argues, is not necessarily antithetical to the negotiation of meaning. On the contrary, it might be a necessary condition for it. John was given the power to elicit alignment by being made coordinator of the lesson study project and indirectly perhaps by his promotion to a more senior position in the school. However, he attributed his success in brokering lesson study not so much to his formal position or status in the school but to the good relationships he had established with his colleagues. The lack of “commitment trust” was more than compensated for by the high levels of “companion trust” and “competence trust” (Newell & Swan, 2000) John enjoyed in the school. As he explained, “when I say this [lesson study] is a very good thing they [the teachers] will think that’s fine.” John saw his role primarily in terms of mediation and facilitation; as he put it, “communicating in the middle.” His approach placed emphasis on the relationships to be formed and managed rather than the tasks to be accomplished. Even so, he saw no contradiction in adopting a more directive approach when deemed appropriate. He produced a handbook for his colleagues “to follow” and “corrected” them when they did “things wrongly.” Thus, it was a judicious balance of mediation, facilitation and direction that provided the foundation for John’s success as a broker. Wenger (1998) argues that two conditions are necessary to create affordances for the negotiation of meaning and, thereby, for the promotion of learning. First, some artifacts need to be in place so that the future can be organized around them, and second, the right kind of people needs to be at the right place and in the right kind of relationship to make something happen. After his experiences of the Fellowship Scheme John returned to his school and made things happen. This he did not by introducing new boundary objects to the school but rather by introducing a

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boundary object in the form of lesson study that resonated with existing boundary objects—namely, lesson preparation and classroom observation— and, more crucially, creating the necessary conditions for his colleagues to renegotiate their meaning. In essence, John, as an effective boundary spanner-in-practice, took two existing designated boundary objects and transformed them into a boundary-object-in-use.

Conclusion In policy contexts worldwide, the virtues of school-university partnership are being extolled. School-university partnership necessarily entails boundary-spanning practices in some form or other. Therefore, a clear understanding of what constitutes effective boundary-spanning practices is of paramount importance to policy makers, practitioners and researchers. Th is chapter has shown how the Fellowship Scheme afforded opportunities for a group of teachers to learn through sustained mutual engagements among themselves and with members of other communities of practice. Furthermore it has shown how one TF operated as a boundary spanner and promoted professional learning through the complementarity of reification and participation. John, through the process of brokering, which involves processes of translation, coordination and alignment between perspectives, successfully implemented lesson study and turned it into a sustained source of professional development in his school. Notes 1. Partnership schools were grouped into five clusters according to their geographical proximity to further facilitate and enhance communication, sharing and cooperation among mentor teachers, fellow teachers and university staff. 2. Secondary schools in Hong Kong are classified according to the medium of instruction that is approved by the government. About 75% of the schools use Chinese as a medium for teaching and learning whereas the rest use English as the medium.

PART

III

Reflections

CHAPTER

8

Sociocultural Theories of Learning Revisited AMY B. M. TSUI

Introduction At the beginning of this volume, we introduced the contexts in which school-university partnerships were formed in different parts of the world, mainly the United Kingdom, the United States and Australia. We have seen although the motivations for creating various forms of collaborative relationship between schools and universities varied, they suggest that formal learning which takes place in the university is insufficient for teacher preparation purposes. Student teachers’ (STs) learning needs to be also situated in the workplace where a different kind of learning takes place. This is why the teaching practicum is an indispensable component of any teacher preparation program, although the importance attached to this component varies a great deal. Also in Chapter 1, we provided a comprehensive review of the research foci of studies conducted on school-university partnership so far. We identified the common themes running through the massive literature and, as we pointed out, a substantial amount of research had been done initially on the factors which led to the success or failure of school-university partnerships, and on how STs and mentors benefited from these arrangements 151

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in terms of their professional growth. However, it was not until recently that the processes of learning in school-university partnerships have been examined and learning theories have been drawn on to make sense of these processes. The more recent research drawing on sociocultural and social theories of learning has provided insights for understanding the opportunities for learning that are afforded when communities of practitioners with different cultural traditions and educational goals interact. This volume builds on this body of research and raises issues of theoretical interest to advance our understanding of teacher learning. The concept of communities of practice proposed by Lave and Wenger (1991), further developed in Wenger (1998), has been adopted as a framework for understanding situated learning by researchers across a number of disciplines. As Barton and Tusting (2005) have pointed out, the concept has a wide appeal as a mid-level theory of learning between agency and structure. It explains the powerful learning that takes place among groups in informal settings. The central tenet of the framework is that participation in communities of practice lies at the core of learning. Engaging in practice, contributing to meaning making and developing competence that is valued by the community are the sources of identity. In the rest of this chapter, we will revisit the theoretical frameworks that we have drawn on to help us understand the learning processes facilitated by school-university partnerships and discuss the ways in which the learning processes that emerged further enhanced our interpretation of these frameworks.

Duality of Legitimate Peripheral Participation The concept of legitimate peripheral participation, proposed by Lave and Wenger (1991) for making sense of how newcomers to a practice learn, was based on their ethnographic studies of how apprentices learn. The concept embraces two critical conditions for learning. The first condition is peripherality of participation whereby newcomers are not expected to be located in the same way as old-timers in fields of participation defined by a community of practice. Instead, they are expected to be located in a less intensive form of engagement in practice which will eventually lead to full engagement. The second condition is legitimacy of participation, that is, to be given legitimate access to practice. This concept is particularly powerful in making sense of the process of becoming a teacher for student teachers (STs) in their practicum placement schools. The peripherality of participation allows room for newcomers in a community of practice to make sense of the nature of the practice in which they will eventually be fully engaged not by observation but by participating in it. The legitimacy of access to

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practice allows newcomers to participate in practice despite the fact that their performance may fall short of the level of competence expected of old-timers. The discussion in Chapter 3 shows that the interplay between the elements of legitimate peripheral participation is highly complex. Lave and Wenger (1991) point out the dual aspect of legitimate peripheral participation; that is, apprentices can be legitimately peripheral but are excluded from participation. Conversely, they can participate legitimately but not peripherally. The studies reported in this volume suggest that the duality of legitimate peripheral participation involves some additional dimensions. First, legitimacy as expounded in Lave and Wenger (1991) refers to legitimacy granted to newcomers by people who control resources for learning, for example, legitimacy granted by masters to apprentices. It is otheroriented. However, it also involves legitimation of access to practice (Tsui, 2007) which is self-oriented. Newcomers often want to legitimate their access to practice and their participation by showing that they possess the competence that qualifies them as a member of a community of practice. Legitimacy and legitimation of access to practice and participation are both reificative and participative. The legitimacy of access to practice determines the extent to which a newcomer is able to participate. The participative process legitimates the newcomer as a member of a community of practice. The relationship between legitimacy and participation is dialectical. Legitimacy of Access to Practice The forms of legitimate access to practice vary from community to community. The most common form is to register as a member, as in the case of associations and clubs, some with hefty fees so as to allow legitimate access only to the elites. Legitimacy is reificative in nature. For example, institutional agreements between schools and teacher education institutions in the placement of STs in schools during the teaching practicum serve to reify the legitimacy of access to practice. The label given to these placement schools as “Partnership Schools,” made explicit by a plaque which bears the crests of the school and the university, is another reification to bolster the legitimacy of access to practice by the STs. Lave and Wenger (1991) observe that for apprentices learning a special occupation, sponsorship into a community of practice is an issue and therefore it is common practice to establish intentional relations and even contractual relations with specific masters. In shaping the relation of masters to apprentices, they further point out, “the issue of conferring legitimacy is more important than the issue of providing teaching” (p. 92). The somewhat contractual relations established between the ST and a designated practicing teacher, referred to in this volume as a mentor teacher (MT), is to reify the relationship so that STs have legitimate access to a fuller range of the elements of practice, such as shadowing

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mentors’ form-teacher classes, observing mentors’ teaching, discussing the mentors’ lessons with them afterward, planning lessons together, and so forth. The reificative process, however, is not just making explicit the relationship. It also involves more subtle forms. In Chapter 3, we have seen that the legitimacy of access can be bolstered or undermined by artifacts, including the kind of workspace STs are given, the location of the workspace, the facilities to which they are given access, and the opportunities that are made available to them to participate in the shared discourses in school communities. Peripherality of Participation Legitimacy of access to practice, however, does not entail legitimacy of participation. As Lave and Wenger point out, “School children are legitimately peripheral but kept from participation in the social world generally. The butchers’ apprentices participate legitimately, but not peripherally, in that they are not given productive access to activity in the community of practitioners” (1991, p. 104). A butchers’ apprentice may be given the same task of operating the wrapping machine for years with little opportunity to participate in other parts of the meat cutting process and hence has no idea how his task fits into the whole process. In either case, legitimacy of participation is not in question but the peripherality of the participation is. Similarly, in some cases, legitimacy of participation for STs is not in question but the peripherality of their participation is. Like the butchers’ apprentices, they are given chores such as photocopying worksheets, baby-sitting classes when the regular teacher is sick, invigilating examinations and doing tasks that other teachers “couldn’t be bothered to do” (Chapter 3, p. 54, this volume). These tasks are very much part of the work of a teacher and participating in these tasks is positive if they are part of “gaining access to sources for understanding through growing involvement” (Lave & Wenger, 1991, p. 37). When such participation does not contribute to, and even limits, their opportunities to gain an understanding of what being a teacher is like, then these STs have not been given legitimacy of peripheral participation. Instead, the participation creates an identity of marginality. Hence, we can have a paradoxical situation in which the access to practice is legitimated through the reificative process of naming the school as a Partnership School and labeling the designated practicing teachers as MTs but the access to participation which enables the newcomer to move from peripheral to full participation is not. Legitimacy is therefore not just reificative but also participative. Participation in practice is not just engaging in a full range of activities of a practice which allows the newcomers to acquire the competence and skills that are valued by the community. As Lave and Wenger (1991) point out, a community of practice is a set of relations among persons, activity

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and the world. Even in cases where the master-apprentice relationship is specific and explicit, such as tailors, the relationships that the apprentice has developed with other apprentices and with other masters also create opportunities for learning. Such relationships, according to Lave and Wenger, could be the richest source of learning when the sponsoring master is too distant or held with too much awe for the newcomer to learn by trial-and-error. Being able to enter into relationships with other members of a community is crucial to understanding and subsequently appropriating the culture, engaging in the discourse in a meaningful way, and learning the repertoire that the community has developed over time such as the unstated rules and regulations governing the manner in which everyday business is conducted. This is why the physical location of STs’ workspace, their participation in formal staff meetings and informal interactions in the staff room, in the corridors and during coffee breaks and lunch hours are integral to becoming a teacher. The participation of Jean and Maggie (Chapter 3) in their respective school communities illustrates this point. As Maggie pointed out, “You can’t possibly learn how to be a teacher without being around teachers” (Chapter 3, p. 53, this volume). The opportunities that are available for building relations with members of the community other than the designated mentor are crucial, as the cases of Jean and Claire have shown (Chapter 3). For Jean, it was not her relationship with her designated mentor that created the learning opportunities but rather with the head of Literature with whom she developed an unofficial mentoring relationship. For Claire, her relationship with her fellow classmate placed in the same school created opportunities for learning because of her distant relationship with her designated mentor and the rest of the teaching staff. In the findings reported in a number of chapters, the interaction with mentors, other practicing teachers and one’s own peers forms an important part of learning. Legitimation of Access to Practice and Participation So far, we have focused on legitimacy as something which is other-oriented. This means that legitimacy is granted by other members of the community. For example, the legitimacy to shadow a practicing teacher is something that has to be granted by the teacher being shadowed. Legitimacy, however, involves another process: All newcomers try to legitimate their access to the community as a member by learning the ropes, by making contributions which are valued by the community, by speaking the language of the community, and so on (see also Tsui, 2007). Let us take for example the case of Maggie and Jean in Chapter 3. While the legitimacy of Maggie’s status as a teacher was granted by her students when they addressed her as Mrs. Reilly, that is, a teacher and one with a specific identity

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and not just an ST, she also tried to legitimate her access to practice by getting to know the students’ names so that she could relate to them as her own students and by helping students learn and gaining the trust of the students. Similarly, Jean legitimated her membership by participating in the full spectrum of the work of a teacher and engaging in giving and grading assignments. This can be seen from her comment on her participation in these activities, “I am not just teaching; I am a teacher.” In other words, legitimation is participative: The process of participation accords legitimacy of access to practice.

Learning as Identity Formation Closely linked with the concept of learning as legitimate peripheral participation is the concept of learning as identity formation. Identity has been commonly understood as relational and reificative, that is, how one identifies oneself, or is being identified by others, as belonging to certain socially organized categories. It is less understood as experiential and participative; that is, it is the lived experience of belonging that constitutes who one is (Tsui, 2007). In this volume, we have seen that the legitimate access to the school community and participation in practice afford opportunities for STs not just to learn the skills to perform their tasks as a teacher but more importantly to learn the ways of being, acting and knowing in the systems of relations that arise from and are developed in the social milieu in which the school community is located. Lave and Wenger point out, “Learning . . . implies becoming a different person with respect to the possibilities enabled by these systems of relations. To ignore this aspect of learning is to overlook the fact that learning involves the construction of identities” (1991, p. 53). Understanding teachers’ identity formation is therefore crucial to understanding teachers’ learning. Research on teacher identity has presented divergent views on teacher identity formation. For example, some research has emphasized the importance of teacher agency over social structure and has argued that the choices that teachers make are constitutive of their professional identities (see, for example, Coldron & Smith, 1999). However, others have argued that conformity imposed by social structure may undermine teachers’ active location and minimize their positionings in social space (Moore, Edwards, Halpin, & George, 2002; see Beijaard, Meijer, & Verloop, 2004 for a comprehensive review). Lave and Wenger (1991) take a more dynamic view of identity formation. They argue that identities are “long term, living relations between persons and their place and participation in communities of practice” (1991, p. 53, authors’ emphasis) and that the person is defined by as well as defines the systems of relations which arise out of and are developed within social

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communities. In Chapter 4, we have seen that Alicia’s mentor identities were shaped by the relations that she developed with her mentees in two different schools. The different relations she had with her mentees were not simply due to the different personalities of her mentees and her different status in the respective schools, but also due to the different positionings of her schools in the larger educational landscape. Her second school was one of the up-and-coming new schools located in an educational landscape where many educational reforms were going on and a number of accountability measures had been introduced. In other words, schools were being subjected to public scrutiny. Her principal was a new aspiring principal who was keen to ensure that the school’s reputation in the community could be sustained. This imposed tremendous pressure on Alicia to ensure high quality teaching among her staff, including her mentee, resulting in the formation of identities of a managerial nature. By contrast, in the first school, there was little pressure from the school administration to conform to external expectations. As such, she had more leeway to negotiate meanings with her staff and mentee, and this enabled her to develop identities of a collegial nature. Similarly, in Chapter 3, the three STs, who were all newcomers to their respective communities, developed different identities as their relations with members of these communities were mutually defined in different ways. While Maggie and Jean developed an identity of peripherality by participating in a full range of activities, Claire developed an identity of marginality by restricting her participation to a minimum. Identities are also experiential and participative: It is in the process of participating in everyday activities that make up the fabric of a community that identities are formed. Central to the participatory process is the opportunity to contribute to construction of meaning and hence to gain ownership of meaning, to develop competence and to gain recognition of one’s competence as being valued by the community. This includes “being able to contribute to the discourse, the ways of doing things, the routines, the concepts, the actions, and so on, that the community has developed and that have become part of its practice” (Chapter 3, p. 62, this volume). The inclusion or exclusion from this participatory process determines the identity constituted. Seen in this light, school-university partnership is particularly important in that it facilitates legitimacy of participation which is critical to identity formation.

Mediating Role of Power Relations in Learning Power Relations and Access to Practice and Participation The issue of power is integral to any social perspective of learning and central to Lave and Wenger’s theory of learning. They point out that power

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relations must be included more systematically in the analysis of learning in communities of practices because they determine the social organization and control of resources for learning. They observe that “[H]egemony over resources for learning and alienation from full participation are inherent in the shaping of the legitimacy and peripherality of participation in its historical realizations” (1991, p. 42). Indeed, power relations are intimated in the very notion of “legitimacy” of participation. They may facilitate or constrain access to practice and hence the development of competence that is valued by the community. They also impinge on the extent to which meanings are negotiable for newcomers. For example, the apprentices of butchers are deliberately constrained by those who control the resources to perform repetitive and simple tasks that are removed from rather than peripheral to the core activities in order to increase efficiency and profit margin. As a result, they failed to learn the full skill set until after a long, drawn-out period. School-university partnership is a social structure set up to afford legitimacy of access to practice by the STs. This, however, does not guarantee legitimacy and peripherality of participation. Both are mediated by an array of power relationships among STs, MTs and other practicing teachers. In Chapter 3, we have seen that the relatively symmetrical power relationship between the two STs, Maggie and Jean, and the teaching staff in their respective schools facilitated their learning. By contrast, the asymmetrical power relationship between the third ST, Claire, her MT and the rest of the teaching staff was not redressed by the partnership arrangement. She was not provided with the same access to practice and participation in the construction of a shared discourse and pedagogical repertoire as Maggie and Jean. Consequently she merely aligned with the received pedagogical approaches in the school with little identification. Power Relations and Negotiability of Meaning Power relations not only facilitate or constrain access to practice and participation but also mediate the negotiability of meaning. As mentioned in Chapter 1, university tutors (UTs) involved in the teacher education curriculum were conscious of the asymmetrical power relations between the university and schools and tried to redress it by reifying schools as “partnership schools” and by putting “school” before “university’ in the nomenclature “school-university partnership” in all documentations. The tripartite conference, reported in Chapter 5, was another attempt to reify symmetrical relations to enable MTs to contribute to the professional development of STs on an equal footing with UTs. From the interview data on tripartite conferences, this seemed to have been borne out in some cases, with the MTs challenging the views of UTs and contributing to the

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meaning-making process. However, in many cases, the UTs felt that they were “treated like Gods” by MTs and that the latter became less confident in tripartite conferences compared to dual conferences. Th is corroborated the interview data with MTs who felt that their views would be “made more objective” if they were confirmed by UTs. That is to say, teachers felt that their comments were subjective personal opinions and hence did not have currency until they were sanctioned by UTs when their subjective opinions would be transformed into objective knowledge. Therefore, although MTs were identified as “partners” of UTs, the meanings were owned, or perceived to be owned, by UTs. It is only when the MTs’ meanings aligned with the meanings of UTs that they were valued by members of the community, including the MTs themselves. Similar to MTs, STs refrained from participating in the negotiation of meaning during tripartite conferences because of the asymmetrical power relations. By contrast, they contributed more actively to the construction of meaning in dual conferences. For them, tripartite conferences were opportunities to learn more by listening more because they were able to obtain input from both the MT and the UT. Th is was perhaps why they let the UT or the MT drive the agenda of these conferences. In addition, during these conferences, they had the backing of the MTs when they justified their teaching act to the UTs. Th is corroborated MTs’ criticisms of tripartite conferences as putting STs “on trial.” The “trial” metaphor is noteworthy: The STs were interrogated by the UTs as prosecutors and the MTs were the STs’ defending lawyers, making a case for the STs’ per formance in the classroom. In other words, meaning was negotiated on their behalf by their MTs. Wenger (1998) points out that the inability to negotiate meaning renders a participant powerless. Thus, we have a paradoxical situation in which both MTs and STs were disempowered by the very social orga nization that was set up to empower them. Tsui and Law (2007) reported on the use of lesson study to enhance the professional development of STs in one of the partnership schools. Similar to tripartite conferences, the activity system of lesson study also presupposed a symmetrical power relationship. However, the MTs and UT involved in the lesson study were both perceived by STs as much more experienced and knowledgeable. Because of this, the close guidance by the MTs and the UT during the lesson study processes was taken as nonnegotiable. It inadvertently constrained STs’ ability to teach a lesson according to their own understanding of the context and subject matter. Paradoxically, the collective interrogation and planning of a lesson by the MTs, STs and UTs, which was supposed to empower the STs, left little room for negotiation of meaning by the STs. This was the cause of considerable stress

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and frustration. It was only when the asymmetrical relationship was redressed by the STs being given room to negotiate the meaning of what they were doing that the STs were able to make better sense of their work as a teacher. School-university partnership is an organizational design that aims to establish symmetrical power relations among its members, and the institutionalized activities are organized on this basis. However, these activities are located in a larger social context where power relations among the participants are asymmetrical: Universities are considered repositories of theoretical knowledge that is privileged, whereas schools are those of practical skills. Universities also control the school teachers’ access to the professional community. As Wenger (1998) points out, the institutionalization of new practices can bring in new perspectives and restrain domination by particular groups. However, they can also become mediating tools for domination. The paradox of the tripartite conferences and the lesson study illustrates the important mediating role of power relations in communities of practice.

Learning at Community Boundaries Lave and Wenger (1991) focus very much on learning within a community of practice; little has been said about what happens at community boundaries. Wenger (1998), however, draws our attention to the rich potential for learning at the intersections of communities. School-university partnership at the University of Hong Kong (HKU) is a case of a community of practice that has emerged as a result of sustained interaction between two communities of practice, that is, the university and schools. The interconnections between these two communities are realized by a number of boundary objects, including artifacts such as partnership documents, handbooks, “partnership school” plaques awarded to schools, annual conferences and elements of practice that are brokered by UTs and Teacher Fellows, such as tripartite conferencing, reciprocal teaching, lesson study and assessment tools. The concept of “boundary object” as introduced by Star and Griesemer (1989) and elaborated by Wenger (1998) focuses on its function of interconnecting and coordinating the multiple perspectives of intersecting communities (see also Bowker & Star, 1995) and the different meanings it can take on in different contexts. Boundary objects, according to Wenger, that are not accompanied by boundary brokers are less effective than those that are. In Chapter 7, we have seen that when the boundary object, lesson study, was brokered by the Teaching Fellow and involved renegotiation of its meaning with his peers, it was far more effective than when elements of

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it were simply appropriated without the involvement of the broker. What has not been attended to very much is the fact that a boundary object carries with it sociocultural assumptions which may not be shared by the community to which the boundary object was brokered and that this could be, and often is, a source of conflict. In Chapters 5 and 6, we have seen that the assumption of symmetrical power relationship between the UTs, MTs and STs in tripartite conferencing and lesson study, and between teachers and learners in reciprocal teaching, was not shared by the school communities. This, as we have seen, had been a source of tension and conflict for all participants involved and, if unresolved, could have rendered tripartite conferencing and lesson study dysfunctional. On the other hand, such contradictions, when resolved, resulted in transformation of learning and the activity system itself, as shown in Case 2 in Chapter 6. Activity theory provides a powerful framework for making sense of the expansive learning that takes place when contradictions arising from the incongruities between the “designed organization” and the “lived practice” (Wenger, 1998, p. 241) are being resolved. As shown in Chapter 6, the adoption of reciprocal teaching (RT) as a mediational tool for achieving the object of improving students’ reading comprehension involved fundamental changes in the activity system of the classroom learning. We could say that RT is an activity system which was further embedded in a larger activity system of classroom learning. Alternatively, we could say that the former was grafted onto the latter. The incongruities between the two activity systems generated contradictions in terms of the object of learning, the norms and rules of interaction and division of labor (or the participant structure). The resolution of the contradictions gave rise to a modified form of RT which was a hybrid of teacher-directed and student-directed learning. Similarly, the incongruities of the sociocultural assumptions of tripartite conferences and the traditional supervisory conferences generated conflicts such as those instantiated by the UTs’ being “treated like Gods” and the MTs and the STs’ being rendered powerless. In such cases, the conflicts or contradictions may be exploited as tools for further domination, or they could be resolved with sustained effort, as the data in Chapters 5 and 6 suggest. Lave and Wenger point out, “Conflict is experienced and worked out through a shared everyday practice in which differing viewpoints and common stakes are in interplay. . . . The practice itself is in motion. . . . [C] hange is a fundamental property of communities of practice and their activities” (1991, p. 117). The conflictual aspect of communities of practice seems to have been conceived in a slightly different way in Wenger’s subsequent work (see Wenger, 1998). Though conflicts and contradictions are

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presented as much a part of a community of practice as harmony and allegiance, they are seen as necessary evils that members of a community have to live with and try to avoid rather than as sources for renewal and transformation. This can be seen from the following quotation: “Most situations that involve sustained interpersonal engagement generate their fair share of tensions and conflicts. In some communities of practice, conflict and misery can even constitute the core characteristic of a shared practice, as they do in some dysfunctional families” (Wenger, 1998, p. 77). From the perspective of activity theory, however, contradictions and conflicts are forces of change. In the process of resolving contradictions, new contradictions are generated which are further driving forces to move practice forward. In other words, the learning process involves “renewed construction of resolution to underlying conflicts” (Lave & Wenger, 1991, p. 58), and in the course of that, practice is being constituted and reconstituted over time.

Concluding Remarks The concept of communities of practice has become a catch phrase in many documents on teaching and learning. There are many different contexts in which the phrase is being used. Increasingly, it is found in top-down models where practitioners are asked to follow some guidelines to form their own communities of practice. It has been pointed out by a number of researchers that the more recent work of Wenger (such as Wenger, 2002; Wenger, McDermott, & Snyder, 2002) is managerial in orientation, unlike his earlier work with Lave and that this is quite different from using the concept as a framework to understand learning processes, how learning is facilitated or constrained and the critical factors that impinge on these processes (see, for example, the collection of papers in Barton & Tusting, 2005). In this volume, we have used the concept of communities of practice as a framework for understanding the opportunities for learning that are afforded by school-university partnerships, and the learning experienced by the participants. The discussion in this volume shows that the setting up of school-university partnerships helped the participants to clarify the joint enterprise that they were engaged in. The elements of practice that were brokered by the participants enabled them to be mutually engaged in the conduct of the joint enterprise which included the preser vice education of STs, the continuing professional development of practicing teachers and the learning of school students. In the process of participating in the everyday practice of teaching, participants experienced what it meant to be a teacher in more profound ways. The kind of learning that was made pos-

Sociocultural Theories of Learning Revisited • 163

sible through this social structure complemented very well that afforded by the formal teacher education curriculum. We could say that typically, learning afforded by the former is a “learning curriculum” whereas that afforded by the latter is a “teaching curriculum” (Lave & Wenger, 1991). A teaching curriculum is mediated through the instructor’s participation by an external view of learning. A learning curriculum, by contrast, consists of situated opportunities viewed from the perspective of the learner. It is not something that can be decontextualized and manipulated in didactic terms; it is characteristic of a community of practice. As Lave and Wenger point out, “The practice of the community creates the potential ‘curriculum’ in the broadest sense—that which may be learned by newcomers with legitimate peripheral access. . . . Learning itself is an improvised practice: A learning curriculum unfolds in opportunities for engagement in practice” (1991, p. 93). We could argue that the learning curriculum that unfolds in communities of practice such as school-university partnership, seen in this light, is an indispensable component of any teacher education curriculum.

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Author Index

A Abdal-Haqq, I., 9, 165, 173 Ansett, S., 134, 165 Ashton, P. M. E., 6, 165 Avis, J., 71, 165 B Bachmann, R., 135, 165 Bakhtin, M. M., 33, 165 Barnes, R., 16, 165 Barton, D., 152, 162, 165 Barton, L., 11, 168 Bathmaker, A. M., 71, 165 Beijaard, D., 67, 88, 156, 165 Bennie, W. A., 4, 165 Bertone, S., 9, 166 Billett, S., 68, 165 Binko, J., 18, 171 Birrell, J. R., 16, 166 Black, S., 9, 171 Blake, D., 15, 165 Board of Teacher Registration, Queensland, 7, 165 Book, C. L., 9, 166 Booth, S., 138, 170 Borthwick, A. C., 9, 166 Bowker, G., 160, 166 Bowyer, J., 18, 170 Bradshaw, L. K., 134, 166 Brink, B., 18, 166 Britzman, D., 70, 166

Bronfenbrenner, U., 33, 166 Brookhart, S. M., 16, 166 Brosnan, P., 9, 169 Brown, A. L., 114, 166, 171 Brownell, M., 16, 171 Bullough, R. V., 16, 18, 105, 106, 166 Byrd, D. M., 9, 166 C Campbell, C. B., 113, 166 Campione, J. C., 114, 166 Carnegie Forum on Education and Economy, 4, 166 Castle, S., 18, 166 Catelli, L. A., 11, 166 Chadbourne, R., 7, 166 Chalies, S., 9, 166 Cheng, M. H., 19, 167 Chow, P. Y., 113, 171 Christenson, M., 14, 167 Clark, R. W., 9, 167 Coldron, J., 156, 167 Cole, M., 26, 27, 29, 32, 130, 167, 171, 172 Collinson, J., 15, 167 Collinson, V., 18, 167 Cooner, D., 14, 16, 174 Cooper, D., 9, 16, 168, 173 Costello, J., 11, 166 Cramer, D., 9, 169 Crow, N. A., 18, 166

175

176 • Author Index D Dadlez, S. H., 18, 172 Danielewicz, J., 70, 167 Darling-Hammond, L., 9, 167 Dart, L., 15, 167 Day, C., 13, 167 Del Borrello, A., 19, 169 Department for Education (1992), 6, 167; (1993), 6, 167 Department of Education, Victoria, 8, 167 Department of Education and Science (1972), 4, 167; (1984), 12, 167 Dixon, P. N., 16, 167 Dove, T., 9, 169 Dowson, M., 15, 172 Doyle, D. P., 4, 168 Drake, P., 15, 167 Draper, R. J., 16, 105, 106, 166 Durand, M., 9, 166 E Ebert, C., 16, 167 Edwards, A., 10, 13, 15, 19, 20, 167 Edwards, G., 156, 170 Eldredge, F., 14, 167 Engeström, R., 33, 112, 168 Engeström, Y., 17, 31, 32, 33, 34, 42, 106, 109, 113, 118, 127, 128, 129, 167, 168 F Faculty of Education (2005), 91, 168 Fairtlough, G., 135, 168 Farr Darling, L., 14, 168 Feldman, A., 113, 168 Fernandez, C., 113, 168 Finan, E., 16, 172 Forman, E. A., 29, 170 Fox Harris, M., 9, 171 Fox, R. K., 18, 166 Frankes, L., 9, 16, 168, 173 Fullan, M., 13, 168 Funk, F., 20, 170 Furlong, J., 11, 22, 168 G Gallimore, R., 29, 31, 113, 168, 169, 173 Galluzo, G., 13, 168 George, R., 156, 170 Gerstner, L. V., Jr., 4, 168 Gilroy, P., 13, 167

Gimbert, B., 9, 168 Gismondi, S., 19, 172 Goldenberg, C., 31, 168 Goodlad, J. I., 3, 4, 11, 14, 168 Goodnow, J. J., 27, 29, 34, 168 Granby, C., 18, 166 Grandori, A., 135, 168 Griesemer, J., 133, 160, 172 Griffin, P., 29, 171 Grimmett, P. P., 11, 168 Grisham, D. L., 18, 166 Grossman, P. L., 18, 174 Grundy, S., 19, 169 Guadarrama, I. N., 9, 168 H Hacker, D. J., 130, 168 Hackett, M. R., 18, 171 Hall, D., 9, 171 Hall, S., 48, 69, 169 Halpin, D., 156, 170 Handler, M. G., 9, 171 Hanks, W. F., 35, 38, 169 Hanley, V., 15, 165 Hargreaves, A., 16, 169 Harre, R., 105, 169 Harris, R. C., 9, 171 Hartley, D., 13, 167 Hauben, M., 18, 170 Hawkey, K., 70, 169 Hayes, M. T., 105, 169 Henderson, E. S., 6, 165 Her Majesty’s Inspectorate, 4, 169 Hiebert, J., 113, 138, 142, 169, 172 Hinchman, L. P., 48, 169 Hinchman, S. K., 48, 169 Hobbs, S. F., 18, 166 Hoff man, N. E., 9, 169 Holmes Group, 5, 169 Huberman, A. M., 18, 169 Hutchins, E., 62, 169 Hutchins, T., 7, 172 I Ibom, K., 14, 167 Il’enkov, E. V., 128, 169 Isher, R. E., 16, 167 J Jasman, A., 19, 169 Jennings, M., 15, 165

Author Index • 177 Johnson, K. A., 70, 169 Johnson, K. E., 70, 169 Johnston, M., 9, 14, 17, 167, 169 Johnston, W. B., 4, 168 K Kagan, D. M., 105, 169 Kärkkäinen, M., 33, 112, 168 Kauchak, D. P., 18, 166 Kelly, M., 105, 169 Kerby, A. P., 48, 169 Kochan, K. F., 20, 170 Kroll, L., 18, 170 Kwan, T., 83, 94, 170 L Laguardia, A., 18, 166 Landeira, K., 18, 171 Lave, J., 10, 19, 20, 28, 29, 30, 34, 35, 38, 41, 47, 50, 68, 69, 70, 113, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157, 160, 161, 162, 163, 170, 171 Law, D. Y. K., 103, 159, 173 Leont’ev, A. N., 30, 31, 112, 170 Levina, L., 135, 136, 140, 145, 170 Levine, M., 9, 170 Lewis, C., 113, 170 Little, J. W., 62, 170 Lloyd, M., 15, 165 Loadman, W. E., 16, 166 Lopez-Real, F., 83, 94, 103, 170, 173 M MacLure, M., 88, 170 Mahar, R. J., 14, 172 Manning, B. H., 19, 170 Margolin, I., 9, 10, 174 Martinez, M. A., 13, 170 Marton, F., 138, 170 Maynard, T., 13, 19, 170 McDermott, R., 162, 174 McGilly, K., 114, 166 McIntyre, D. J., 9, 166 Meijer, P. C., 67, 88, 156, 165 Merritt, J. E., 6, 165 Michelli, N. M., 9, 171 Miles, S., 11, 168 Miller, L., 16, 165 Minick, N., 29, 170 Mishler, E. G., 67, 88, 170 Moll, L., 29, 170 Moore, A., 156, 170

Morris, P., 13, 168 Mortimer, D. J., 6, 165 Mullen, C. A., 20, 170 N Nath, J. L., 9, 168 National Commission on Excellence in Education, 4, 170 Neubert, G., 18, 171 Newell, S., 135, 146, 171 Newman, D., 29, 171 Ng, H. M., 113, 171 Noffke, S., 113, 171 O Ochberg, R. L., 48, 171 Odell, S. J., 10, 171 O’Hair, M. J., 10, 171 O’Keefe, P., 14, 15, 174 Osguthorpe, R. T., 9, 171 P Pacheco, A., 9, 171 Padovano, K., 11, 166 Paese, P. C., 18, 171 Paine, L. W., 113, 173 Palincsar, A. S., 114, 117 Parliament of Commonwealth of Australia, 8, 171 Patten, J., 6, 171 Patterson, C., 14, 173 Patterson, R. S., 9, 171 Payne, B. D., 19, 170 Payne, L., 19, 169 Peacock, A., 6, 165 Peck, C. A., 18, 166 Piaget, J., 26, 27, 171 Protheroe, L., 10, 19, 20, 167 R Raffo, C., 9, 171 Ramsey, G., 7, 171 Ramsey, J., 9, 168 Ravid, R., 9, 171 Reed, W. M., 9, 169 Ria, L., 9, 166 Rice, E. H., 16, 171 Ridley, D. S., 18, 171 Robbins, V., 18, 172 Robson, M., 7, 172 Roehler, L. R., 16, 172

178 • Author Index Rogers, D., 10, 171 Rogoff, B., 27, 29, 30, 171 Rosenbluth, G. S., 9, 169 Rosenwald, G. C., 48, 171 Ross, D., 16, 171 Roth, W.- M., 10, 19, 20, 33, 171 Rushcamp, S., 16, 172 Russell, D. R., 33, 172 Rutherford, M., 18, 170 Ryle, G., 43, 130, 172 S Samaras, P. A., 19, 172 Samuel, M., 88, 172 Sanders, M., 15, 172 Sandholtz, J. H., 16, 18, 172 Sanford, J. S., 14, 172 Sauleda, N., 13, 170 Scanlon, L. A., 10, 173 Schelchty, P. C., 11, 172 Schrage, M., 11, 172 Scribner, S., 27, 29, 167, 172 Sealey, R., 7, 16, 172 Semerad, R. D., 4, 168 Sherrill, J., 18, 167 Shum, S. K., 103, 173 Sims, C., 10, 19, 172 Sinclair, C., 15, 172 Sindelar, P., 16, 171 Skillings, M. J., 18, 172 Slater, J. J., 9, 172 Smedley, L., 9, 172 Smith, L., 16, 27, 166, 172 Smith, R., 156, 167 Snow-Gerono, J. L., 13, 172 Snyder, W. M., 162, 174 Soda, G., 135, 168 Souder, K., 18, 166 Sperring, A., 10, 173 Star, L., 160, 166 Star, S. L., 133, 160, 172 Stephens, D., 88, 172 Stigler, J. W., 113, 138, 142, 169, 172 Stoddart, T., 14, 15, 173, 174 Stokes, D., 18, 166 Stone, C. A., 28, 29, 43n2, 170, 174 Street, C., 10, 19, 20, 173 Sumsion, J., 14, 173 Sutherland, L. M., 10, 13, 19, 173 Swan, J., 135, 146, 171 Sydow, J., 135, 173

T Tang, R., 103, 173 Tate, P., 18, 171 Teacher Training Agency, 12, 173 Teitel, L., 9, 173 Tenent, A., 130, 168 Tharp, G. R., 29, 173 Tharp, R., 33, 173 Thatcher, M., 6, 173 Thomas, M., 14, 167 Thomas, M. J., 17, 169 Tobin, K., 10, 19, 20, 33, 171 Tomlinson, P. D., 138, 173 Trachtman, R., 9, 170 Training and Development Agency for Schools, 7, 173 Trohel, J., 9, 166 Tsuchida, I., 113, 170 Tsui, A. B. M., 22, 102, 103, 153, 155, 156, 159, 173 Tushman, M. L., 134, 173 Tusting, K., 152, 162, 165 V Valli, L., 9, 16, 168, 173 Vandiver, F., 16, 171 van Lagenhove, L., 105, 169 Van Manen, M., 138, 173 van Veen, D., 13, 170 Vaast, E., 135, 136, 140, 145, 170 Verloop, N., 67, 88, 156, 165 Vygotsky, L. S., 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 43n2, 173 W Wang, J., 113, 173 Wasserman, K., 18, 172 Watson, N., 13, 168 Webb, A., 135, 174 Webber, L. S., 114, 166 Wenger, E., 10, 13, 16, 17, 19, 20, 26, 28, 30, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 63, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 84, 86, 87, 88, 111, 112, 113, 129, 130, 132, 133, 134, 139, 145, 146, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 170, 174 Wertsch, J. V., 28, 29, 32, 34, 43n2, 128, 130, 171, 174 Whetten, D., 10, 171 Whitford, B. L., 11, 172 Whiting, C., 11, 168 Whitty, G., 11, 168

Author Index • 179 Wilkin, M., 12, 23, 174 Williams, P., 135, 174 Wilson, E., 10, 19, 174 Winitzky, N., 14, 15, 174 Wiseman, D. L., 14, 16, 174 Wong, A. T. Y., 22, 173

Y Yerian, S., 18, 174 Yoshida, M., 113, 174 Z Zelleramayer, M., 9, 10, 174

Subject Index

A access to practice: legitimacy of, 38, 47, 61–62, 153–156; power relations and, 157–158 activity networks, 33 activity settings, 32–33 activity systems, 17, 30, 31–33; communities in, 31, 32; components of, 31–32; division of labor in/of, 31, 32, 106, 107, 108, 109; 110, expansive learning and, 33–34; interacting, 33–34; multivoicedness and, 33, 112, 127, 131; objects in/of, 31, 32, 33; 66; of post-observation conferencing, 106–107; rules/norms in, 31, 32, 106, 107, 108–109; tripartite conferences as, 102–105; of tripartite conferencing, 108–109 activity theory, 10, 14, 20, 26, 28, 30–31, 33, 34, 43, 66, 111, 112, 127, 130, 161, 162; third generation, 33 Alicia, 78–80 alignment, 50, 51, 71, 77, 80, 84, 86, 85, 87, 88, 112, 134, 139, 145, 146, 147; in MTs studies, 84–86; in Teacher Fellowship Scheme, 139 apprenticeship, 35 appropriation, of meaning, 43n2 articled teachers scheme, 6 Australia: school-university partnership in, 7–8, 23, 151; teacher education in, 7–8

B Barry and Fanny. See Kerry belonging. See modes of belonging boundaries, 38–39, 66, 112, 120, 132–136, 140; community, 38–39, 41, 42, 111, 127, 130, 131, 145, 160–162 boundary-blurring activities, 16 boundary brokers, 121, 130, 160; teacher fellows as, 139–144 boundary connections, 132, 133–134 boundary crossing, 21, 33, 38–39, 42, 49, 73, 88, 112, 120, 121, 127, 130; contradictions and, 112; expansive learning and, 127–130; transformation and, 113 boundary encounters, 21, 133, 137, 144 boundary objects, 38, 133–134, 160–161; designated, 135, 145, 147; -in-use, 135, 145, 147; lesson study as, 116–118; in lesson study cases, 112, 113, 117, 120, 121, 127, 130; meaning and, 146; mediating tools and, 133; sharing of, 133–134 boundary practices, 112, 133, 137, 139, 145 boundary spanners, 134–135; brokering and, 134; characteristics of, 135; -in-practice, 135, 140, 147; nominated, 135, 140; roles of, 134 boundary-spanning practices, 147; collaborate, 135, 136; transactive, 135, 136

Subject Index • 181 boundary trajectories, 50 brokering, 38, 111, 112, 133–134, 139, 144, 146, 147; boundary spanners and, 134; multimembership and, 134; in reciprocal teaching case study, 111, 112, 114, 121, 127, 129, 130. See also boundary brokers C cases. See lesson study cases; mentor teachers learning study; student teachers learning study; Teacher Fellowship Scheme; tripartite conferences Centre for Evaluation and Development in Teacher Education (CEDTE), 6 China, lesson study in, 113 Chinese as medium of instruction (CMI), 140, 147n2 Chinese culture, 89n1, 95 Chinese language: as medium for teaching, 147n2; reading comprehension, 114, 115, 118, 130; teaching, moral values and, 125, 131n2 Chinese language curriculum: lesson studies on, 121–122; lesson study cases and, 114–127; reform of, 114, 121 Chinese Panel, 114 Chinese poem (lesson study case 2), 121, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127 Claire, 58–60, 155, 158 Clinical Faculty Associates (CFAs), 16 co-construction, of identities, 70 cognitive theories of learning, 26–27 collaborate boundary-spanning practices, 135, 136 collaborative partnerships, 10–11, 13; time demands of, 16 collaborative teaching, progressive, 138 collective enterprise, 20 communication: in school-university partnership (Hong Kong University), 136–137; in tripartite conferences, 106 communities: in activity systems, 31, 32; fractal structures of, 87; of inquiry, 14; theme, in research, 10, 13–14 communities of practice, 10, 13, 14, 16, 17, 19, 30, 35–36, 37, 38, 39, 41, 42, 43, 69, 74, 75, 88, 127, 131, 152, 156, 158, 160; becoming a member of, 47–68; as catch phrase, 162; conflicts in,

161–162; connecting, 132–147; contradictions in, 161–162; joint enterprise and, 36, 40–41, 90, 112; learning curriculum in, 163; learning within, 14, 19–20, 152, 162–163; shared repertoire and, 14, 36, 40, 63, 84, 85, 112, 120; “visit the practice” in, 137. See also mutual engagement community boundaries, 38–39, 162–163; characteristics of, 131; learning at, 160–162; processes at, 130. See also boundaries competence: membership and, 63–65; social, 86–87; trust, 135, 146 complementarity, 10, 11–12, 38, 137, 147 complementary contributions, 7, 111, 120 complexity theory, 9 conferences. See tripartite conferences conflicts: in communities of practice, 161–162; identity, 66–68 connectedness, 72–74 connections: boundary, 133–134; practice-based, 133 context-appropriation theory, 9 continuity, in tripartite conferences, 109–110 contradictions, 17, 20, 24, 33, 34, 42, 107, 108, 110, 113, 125, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131; in activity systems, resolving, 115–116; boundary crossing and, 112; in communities of practice, 161–162; Engeström’s principle of, 128; internal, Il’enkov’s theory of, 128; in reciprocal teaching case study, 116–121, 129; in tripartite conferences, 107–108, 110 contributions: complementary, 7, 111, 120; in tripartite conferences, 100–102 cooperation, 10 cooperative partnerships, 10 course-of-action theory, 9 cultural artifact(s), 26, 27, 29, 32, 37, 38, 41, 42, 112, 113, 115, 146 cultural dissonance, in school-university partnership, 14–17 cultural tool(s), 28, 31, 32, 37, 43n2, 112, 120, 128, 129, 130 culture, third, 16–17 curriculum: Chinese language, 114–127; learning, 163; teaching, 163 cycle of lesson study, 138

182 • Subject Index D designated boundary objects, 135, 145, 147 designed organization, 161 development plans, in Teacher Fellowship Scheme, 140, 141, 142 dialogicality, 33 dimensions, of identity, 70–74 dissonance: cultural, 14–17; productive, 17 division of labor, 7, 10, 14, 31, 32, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 128, 161 dual conferences, tripartite conferences v., 95–100

healthy identity, 72–74 “HEI-led” model, of partnership, 13 hermeneutic phenomenology, 9, 10 Higher Education Institutions (HEIs), 12, 13 historicity, 127, 128 Holmes Group, 5 Hong Kong curriculum reform. See Chinese language curriculum Hong Kong University partnership. See school-university partnership

G Guidelines for the Evaluation of Teacher Education Courses, 8

I identification, 51 identity, 20, 35, 37, 39–40, 47, 63, 69, 84, 88, 99, 133, 135, 139, 145, 152, 156–157; co-construction of, 70; conflicts, 66–68, 89; dimensions of, 70–74; healthy, 72–74, 88; interconnectedness of, 39; of marginality, 65–66, 154, 157; multimembership and, 48–49, 66–68; multiple, 87–88; nature of, 70; as participative, 70, 84, 157; of peripherality, 65–66, 157; as reificative, 70, 84; sub-, 67, 68 identity formation, 21, 35, 39–40, 41, 42, 63, 64, 68, 69, 71, 74, 86; identification and negotiability in, 51; learning as, 47–51, 156–157; modes of belonging and, 50–51, 88. See also mentor teachers learning study; student teachers learning study Il’enkov’s theory of internal contradiction, 128. See also contradictions imagination, 50, 51, 66, 71, 139, 145; in Teacher Fellowship Scheme, 139 inbound trajectories, 49–50, 65 Initial Training-Inservice Education (IT-INSET) Project, 6 insider trajectories, 50 interacting activity systems, 33–34 interconnectedness, of identity, 39 internal contradiction, Il’enkov’s theory of, 128. See also contradictions internalization, 28; knowing-how and, 40, 43n2, 130; as mastery, 43n2 interorganizational theory, 9

H habitus, 9 havens of peace, 17

J James Report, 4 Japanese model, of lesson study, 113, 142

E economy of meaning, 41 effectiveness, 72–74 engagement, 37, 50, 51, 71, 72, 87, 88, 139, 145, 152; in MTs study, 84–86; in Teacher Fellowship Scheme, 139. See also mutual engagement Engeström’s principle of contradiction, 128. See also contradictions equality: in school-university partnerships, 100; in tripartite conferences, 94, 100–102 equivalence, 10, 12–13 expansive learning, 17, 33–34, 85, 88, 110, 144, 161; activity systems and, 33–34; boundary crossing and, 127–130 expansiveness, 72–74 expansive transformation, 34, 127, 129 explication de texte, 125, 131n2 F facilitator, 112, 115, 117 failed triad, 105–106 Fanny and Barry. See Kerry Fellowship Scheme. See Teacher Fellowship Scheme field, 9 forms, of membership, 51 fractal structures, of communities, 87 full participation, 38, 69

Subject Index • 183 Jean, 55–58, 155, 156, 158 John, 140–144; as boundary broker, 140–144; lesson study and, 142–144 joint enterprise, 40–41, 90; negotiation of, 36, 40, 112 K Kerry (with Barry and Fanny), 80–83 knowing-how, 40, 43n2, 130. See also internalization L Lacanian concepts, 9 learning: cognitive theories of, 26–27; within communities of practice, 14, 19–20, 70, 152, 160, 162–163; at community boundaries, 160–162; expansive, 17, 33–34, 85, 88, 110, 127–130, 144, 161; as identity formation, 47–51, 156–157; neoVygotskian perspectives of, 29–30; Piagetian perspective of, 26–27; power relations in, 157–160; social theory of, Wenger’s, 20, 26, 30, 34, 35–42, 52, 132, 137; sociocultural perspectives of, 25–43, 43n1; from Teacher Fellowship Scheme, 139–140; Vygotskian perspective of, 27–28 learning curriculum, 163 legitimacy, 50; of access to practice, 61–62, 153–156; of participation, 152–153 legitimate peripheral participation, 10, 20, 21, 38, 42, 47, 50, 60–61; duality of, 152–156 lesson research, 113 lesson studies: as boundary object, 116–118; in China, 113; on Chinese language curriculum, 121–122; cycle of, 138; Japanese model of, 113, 142; John and, 142–144; as mediating tool, 113; mutual engagement in, 113; VCDs on, 138, 142, 145 lesson study case 1 (reciprocal teaching), 114–121, 161; brokering in, 111, 112, 114, 121, 127, 129, 130; classroom implementation of, 115, 116–118; contradictions in, 116–121, 129; goal of activity in, 127; lesson study as boundary object in, 116–118; resolving contradictions in, 118–121 lesson study case 2, 121–127; assessment

tool in, 123–127; Chinese poem in, 121, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127; goal of activity in, 127; lesson studies on Chinese language curriculum in, 121–122; MTs in, 121; pedagogical dichotomy in, 125–127, 129–130; student learning outcome in, 123–124; UTs in, 121 lesson study cases, 114–131, 159–160; background of, 114; boundary crossing and expansive learning in, 127–130; boundary objects in, 112, 113, 117, 120, 121, 127, 130; Chinese language curriculum and, 114–127; mutual engagement in, 111–113, 120, 121, 131; paradox of teaching and student learning outcome (case 2), 121–127; reciprocal teaching (case 1), 114–121; transformations and, 112, 113, 127, 128, 129, 131 licensed teachers scheme, 6 lived experience, 86–87, 138 lived practice, 161 M macrosystems, microsystems in, 33, 102, 107, 109 Maggie, 53–55, 155, 158 marginality, 49; identity of, 65–66 marginal participation, 38 mastery, internalization as, 43n2 meanings, 40–41; appropriation of, 43n2; boundary objects and, 146; economy of, 41; negotiability of, 51, 63–65, 95, 146–147, 158–160; ownership of, 40–41, 51, 64 mediating tool(s), 31, 32, 107, 108, 115, 120, 130, 133; boundary objects and, 133; lesson study as, 113, 114, 121, 130, 160 mediation, 27–28, 30 membership, 34, 37, 39, 40, 48–50; competence and, 63–65; forms of, 51; mutual engagement and, 62–63; in student teacher learning study, 62–65 mentor teachers (MTs), 90; in lesson study case 2, 121; tripartite conferences and, 90–110 mentor teachers learning study, 73–89; Alicia in, 78–80; alignment in, 84–86; engagement in, 84–86; Kerry (with Barry and Fanny) in, 80–83; lived

184 • Subject Index mentor teachers learning study (cont.) experience in, 86–87; multiple identities in, 87–88; power relations in, 84–86; Shirley in, 74–78; social competence in, 86–87 microsystems, in macrosystems, 33, 102, 107, 109 mode(s) of belonging, 40, 50–51, 71, 72, 73, 74, 87, 88, 145; alignment in, 50, 51, 71, 84–86, 139, 145, 146; engagement in, 50, 51, 71, 84–86, 139, 145; identity formation and, 50–51, 88; imagination in, 50, 51, 66, 71, 139, 145 Modes of Teacher Education (MOTE) research, 11, 13 moral values, teaching Chinese language and, 125, 131n2 MTs. See mentor teachers multimembership: brokering and, 134; identity and, 48–49, 66–68 multiple identities, 87–88 multivoicedness, 33, 112, 127, 131 mutual engagement, 14, 23, 36, 40, 42, 50, 74, 85, 86, 90, 112, 132, 133, 137, 139; in lesson studies, 113; in lesson study cases, 111–113, 120, 121, 131; membership and, 62–63; in tripartite conferences, 94 mutual negotiation, 11 mutual support, 23 N National Teacher Education Partnership Fund, 8 Nation at Risk: The Imperative for Education National Reform, A, 4 negotiability of meaning, 51, 63–65, 95, 146–147; power relations and, 158–160 negotiation: of joint enterprise, 36, 40, 112, 120; of meaning(s), 14, 17, 21, 36, 37, 50, 51, 63–65, 91, 106, 146–147, 159; mutual, 11; of the self, 39–40, 48 neo-Vygotskian perspectives of learning, 29–30. See also activity settings nexus of multimembership, identity as, 48–49 nominated boundary spanners, 135, 140 nonparticipation, 40, 49, 65 O objects: in activity systems, 31, 32; reified, 37. See also boundary objects

organic relationships, 11–12, 13 outbound trajectories, 50, 66 overlaps, 133 ownership, of meaning, 40–41, 51, 64 Oxford University Intern Scheme, 6 P paradox, of teaching and student learning outcome (lesson study case), 121–127 participation, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 47, 48, 49, 65, 68, 70, 71, 73, 84, 85, 94, 110, 112, 113, 120, 129, 133, 134, 137, 138, 152, 154, 155, 156, 158; complementarity of, 134, 147; form(s) of, 38, 61, 65, 66, 145, 146, 147; full, 38, 42, 50, 65, 69, 158; legitimacy of, 61, 152–153, 157, 158; marginal, 38; nonparticipation and, 49; peripherality of, 152, 153, 154–155, 158; reification and, 37, 38, 112, 120, 133, 134, 137, 145, 146, 147. See also legitimate peripheral participation participative, identity as, 70, 84, 157 Partnership Quarterly Newsletter, 138, 145 partnerships: collaborative, 10–11, 13; complementarity of, 10, 11–12; cooperative, 10; of equals, 12–13; equivalence of, 10, 12–13; “HEI-led” model, 13. See also school-university partnership peace, havens of, 17 peripherality, 49, 50, 133; identity of, 65–66, 157; of participation, 152, 153, 154–155, 158 peripheral trajectories, 49 peripheries, 133 personal stories, 36, 48 perspectives, of learning. See learning phenomenological writing, 138 Piagetian perspective of learning, 26–27 poem. See Chinese poem positioning, in tripartite conferences, 105–106, 110 positioning theory, 105 post-observation conferencing, activity systems of, 106–107 power, 40–41, 146 power relation(s)/relationship(s), 10, 13, 21, 22, 40, 42, 76, 84, 88, 93, 95, 97, 98, 102, 105, 106, 107, 109, 118, 157–160;

Subject Index • 185 access to practice/participation and, 157–158; asymmetrical, 13, 64, 67, 74, 75, 84, 85, 86, 100, 106, 110, 158, 159; in learning, 157–160; in MTs studies, 84–86; negotiability of meaning and, 158–160; symmetrical, 23, 85, 158, 159, 160, 161; in tripartite conferences, 93–94, 98, 100, 105–106, 110 practice(s), 36, 41; boundary, 112, 133, 137, 139, 145; boundary spanners-in-, 135, 140, 147; collaborate boundaryspanning, 135, 136; lived, 161; transactive boundary-spanning, 135, 136. See also access to practice; communities of practice practice-based connections, 133 productive dissonance, 17 productive tensions, 17 Professional Development Schools (PDSs), 5 professional learning communities, 13 progressive collaborative teaching, 138 Q questionnaires, in tripartite conferences, 91–92 R reading comprehension, Chinese, 114, 115, 118, 130 reciprocal interdependence, 23 reciprocal teaching (RT), 112, 114–115, 116, 160; case study, 111, 112, 114–121, 128, 129, 130, 161 reification, complementarity of, 134, 147; participation and, 37, 38, 112, 120, 133, 134, 137, 145, 146, 147 reificative, identity as, 70, 84 reified objects, 37 relationships: of complementarity, 10, 11–12; organic, 11–12, 13; symbiotic, 11–12, 13. See also partnerships; power relations Report of the Review of Teacher Education, 7 research literature review (schooluniversity partnership), 8–21, 151–152; community theme in, 10, 13–14; Modes of Teacher Education, 11, 13; themes in, 10–21, 151–152; theoretical frameworks, 9–10

roles: of boundary spanners, 134; in tripartite conferencing, 98–100 RT. See reciprocal teaching rules/norms, in activity systems, 31, 32, 106, 107, 108–109 S “school-based” teacher education programs, 6 school-university partnership (University of Hong Kong): communication in, 136–137; establishment of, 21–23, 136–137; student teachers learning study and, 51–68; tripartite conference in, 90–91 school-university partnerships: Australia, 7–8; complexity of, 25–26, 42; cultural dissonance in, 14–17; emergence of, 3–8, 151; equality in, 100; fundamental premise of, 90; interest in, 3–4; learning benefits in, 17–19; learning processes in, 19–21; research on, 8–21, 151–152; tension in, 14–17; theory-practice dichotomy in, 105; United Kingdom, 5–7; United States, 4–5 self, negotiation of the, 39–40, 48 semiotic uptake, 43n2 shared repertoire, 14, 36, 40, 42, 63, 64, 84, 85, 112, 120 sharing: of boundary objects, 133–134; of ideas, in tripartite conferences, 92 Shirley, 74–78 social competence, 86–87 social constructivist framework, 15, 105 social identity. See identity social practice, 36. See also communities of practice social theory of learning, Wenger’s, 20, 26, 30, 34, 35–42, 52, 132, 137 sociocultural perspectives of learning, 25–43, 43n1; revisited, 151–163 Soviet sociohistorical theory of human development, 29. See also Vygotskian perspective of learning stakeholder perceptions, about tripartite conferences, 92–102 stories, personal, 36, 48 student teachers (STs), 90; Professional Development Schools and, 5; tripartite conferences and, 90–110

186 • Subject Index student teachers learning study, 51–68; Claire in, 58–60, 155, 158; competence in, 63–65; discussion of, 60–68; identities of peripherality/marginality in, 65–66; Jean in, 55–58, 155, 156, 158; legitimacy of access to practice in, 61–62; Maggie in, 53–55, 155, 158; membership in, 62–65; multimembership and identity conflicts in, 66–68; negotiability of meanings in, 63–65 studies. See lesson study cases; mentor teachers learning study; student teachers learning study; Teacher Fellowship Scheme; tripartite conferences subcommunities, 87 subidentities, 67, 68 symbiotic relationships, 11–12, 13 STs. See student teachers T teacher education: Australia and, 7–8; “school-based,” 6; United Kingdom and, 5–7; United States and, 4–5 teacher fellows (TFs), 132, 138, 139, 140, 142, 145, 147, 160; as boundary brokers, 139–144 Teacher Fellowship Scheme, 132, 137–140; alignment in, 139; components of, 137–138; development plans in, 140, 141, 142; engagement in, 139; imagination in, 139; John in, 140–144; learning from, 139–140; rationale of, 136–140 Teacher Training Agency, 12 teaching curriculum, 163 tension: productive, 17; in schooluniversity partnership, 14–17; in tripartite conferences, 97, 109 theory of variation, 138 third culture, 16–17 third generation activity theory, 33 trajectories, 49–50; boundary, 50; inbound, 49–50, 65; insider, 50; outbound, 50, 66; peripheral, 49 transactive boundary-spanning practices, 135–136 transformations: boundary crossing and, 113; lesson study cases and, 112, 113, 127, 128, 129, 131 triad, failed, 105–106

tripartite conferences, 90–110, 158–160; activity system of, 106, 108–109; as activity systems, 102–105, 106; communication issue in, 106; continuity in, 109–110; contradictions in, 107–108, 110; contributions in, distribution of, 100–102; different perspectives in, 95; discussion/ analysis of, 105–110; dual conferences v., 95–98; equality in, 94, 100–102; idealized conception of, 105; ideal situation for, 91, 94; as microsystems, in macrosystems, 33, 102, 107, 109; MTs and, 90–110; mutual engagement in, 94; positioning in, 105–106, 110; post-observation conferencing and, 106–107; power relations in, 93–94, 98, 100, 105–106, 110; problematic aspects of, 92, 94–95; questionnaires in, 91–92; relationship development in, 106; roles in, dual conferences and, 98–100; sequence of, case study of, 102–105; sharing ideas in, 92; stakeholder perceptions about, 92–102; tension in, 97, 109; in University of Hong Kong schoolpartnership scheme, 90–91; value of, 92–94 trust: boundary spanning and, 135; commitment, 135, 146; companion, 135, 146; competence, 135, 146 U United Kingdom: school-university partnership in, 4–7, 23, 151; teacher education in, 5–7; Teacher Training Agency, 12 United States: research on schooluniversity partnership, 8–9; schooluniversity partnership in, 4–5, 23, 151; teacher education in, 4–5 University of Hong Kong schooluniversity partnership. See schooluniversity partnership university tutors (UTs), 90; in lesson study case 2, 121; tripartite conferences and, 90–110 UTs. See university tutors V variation, theory of, 138 VCDs, on lesson studies, 138, 142, 145

Subject Index • 187 “visit the practice,” 137 Voicedness. See multivoicedness Vygotskian perspective of learning, 27–28; neo-, 29–30

W Wenger’s social theory of learning, 20, 26, 30, 34, 35–42, 52, 132, 137 writing, phenomenological, 138