Vocational Learning: Innovative Theory and Practice

VOCATIONAL LEARNING

UNESCO-UNEVOC Book Series Technical and Vocational Education and Training: Issues, Concerns and Prospects

Volume 14 Series Editor-in-Chief : Professor Rupert Maclean, Centre for Lifelong Research and Development, the Hong Kong Institute of Education, China. (Formerly UNESCO-UNEVOC International Centre for Technical and Vocational Education and Training, Bonn, Germany.) Associate Editors: Professor Felix Rauner, TVET Research Group, University of Bremen, Germany Professor Karen Evans, Institute of Education, University of London, United Kingdom Editorial Advisory Board: Dr David Atchoarena, Division for Planning and Development of Education Systems, UNESCO, Paris, France Dr András Benedek, Ministry of Employment and Labour, Budapest, Hungary Dr Paul Benteler, Stahlwerke Bremen, Germany Ms Diane Booker, TAFESA, Adelaide, Australia Professor Michel Carton, NORRAG c/o Graduate Institute of International and Development Studies, Geneva, Switzerland Dr Chris Chinien, Workforce Development Consulting, Montreal, Canada Dr Claudio De Moura Castro, Faculade Pitágoras, Belo Horizonte, Brazil Dr Wendy Duncan, Asian Development Bank, Manila, Philippines Dr Michael Frearson, SQW Consulting, Cambridge, United Kingdom Dr Lavinia Gasperini, Natural Resources Management and Environment Department, Food and Agriculture Organization, Rome, Italy Dr Philipp Grollmann, Federal Institute for Vocational Education and Training (BiBB), Bonn, Germany Dr Peter Grootings, European Training Foundation, Turin, Italy Professor W. Norton Grubb, Graduate School of Education, University of California, Berkeley, United States of America Dr Dennis R. Herschbach, Faculty of Education Policy and Leadership, University of Maryland, College Park, United States of America Dr Oriol Homs, Centre for European Investigation and Research in the Mediterranean Region, Barcelona, Spain Professor Phillip Hughes, Australian National University, Canberra, Australia Professor Moo-Sub Kang, Korea Research Institute for Vocational Education and Training, Seoul, Republic of Korea Dr Bonaventure W. Kerre, School of Education, Moi University, Eldoret, Kenya Dr Günter Klein, German Aerospace Centre, Bonn, Germany Dr Wilfried Kruse, Sozialforschungsstelle Dortmund, Dortmund Technical University, Germany Professor Jon Lauglo, Department of Educational Research, Faculty of Education, University of Oslo, Norway Dr Alexander Leibovich, Institute for Vocational Education and Training Development, Moscow, Russian Federation Professor Robert Lerman, Urban Institute, Washington, United States of America Mr Joshua Mallet, Commonwealth of Learning, Vancouver, Canada Ms Naing Yee Mar, UNESCO-UNEVOC International Centre for Technical and Vocational Education and Training, Bonn, Germany Professor Munther Wassef Masri, National Centre for Human Resources Development, Amman, Jordan Dr Phillip McKenzie, Australian Council for Educational Research, Melbourne, Australia Dr Theo Raubsaet, Centre for Work, Training and Social Policy, Nijmegen, Netherlands Mr Trevor Riordan, International Labour Organization, Bangkok, Thailand Professor Barry Sheehan, Melbourne University, Australia Dr Madhu Singh, UNESCO Institute for Lifelong Learning, Hamburg, Germany Dr Manfred Tessaring, European Centre for the Development of Vocational Training, Thessaloniki, Greece Dr Jandhyala Tilak, National Institute of Educational Planning and Administration, New Delhi, India Dr Pedro Daniel Weinberg, formerly Inter-American Centre for Knowledge Development in Vocational Training (ILO/CINTERFOR), Montevideo, Uruguay Professor Adrian Ziderman, Bar-llan University, Ramat Gan, Israel UNESCO-UNEVOC Head of Publications: Ms Alix Wurdak

For further volumes: http://www.springer.com/series/6969

Vocational Learning Innovative Theory and Practice

Edited by

RALPH CATTS University of Stirling, Stirling, Scotland, UK

IAN FALK Charles Darwin University, Darwin, Australia and

RUTH WALLACE Charles Darwin University, Darwin, Australia

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Editors Dr. Ralph Catts University of Stirling School of Education Stirling FK9 4LA, Scotland UK [email protected]

Prof. Ian Falk Charles Darwin University School of Education Ellengowan Drive 0909 Darwin Northern Territory Australia [email protected]

Dr. Ruth Wallace Charles Darwin University School of Education Ellengowan Drive 0909 Darwin Northern Territory Australia [email protected]

ISBN 978-94-007-1538-7 e-ISBN 978-94-007-1539-4 DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-1539-4 Springer Dordrecht Heidelberg London New York Library of Congress Control Number: 2011932577 © Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2011 No part of this work may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, microfilming, recording or otherwise, without written permission from the Publisher, with the exception of any material supplied specifically for the purpose of being entered and executed on a computer system, for exclusive use by the purchaser of the work. Printed on acid-free paper Springer is part of Springer Science+Business Media (www.springer.com)

Vale Rod Gerber 1945–2007 We dedicate this book to the memory of Rod Gerber. Rod Gerber was the person who proposed this book to Ralph Catts and Ian Falk not long before he fell ill. With the support of Ruth Wallace, we have developed and extended his ideas and brought this book to fruition. Rod was well known and admired as a person who fostered the development of colleagues. He was also respected as an academic writer, a teacher and an administrator. Rod’s contribution to the world of academe both in Australia and internationally has been immense. We hope that this book will add a little more to the great legacy he has left from which we have benefitted along with so many others around the world.

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Series Editor’s Introduction

Technical and vocational education and training (TVET) needs to be as dynamic as the economies and communities it serves. Rapid changes in technology and employment patterns, in demographic growth and social expectations and many other factors drive the need to reform and expand TVET. Worldwide phenomena such as globalization and the recent financial crisis, major problems associated with youth unemployment and the emerging challenge of an ageing workforce are transforming the ways in which individuals and communities organize and go about work. Such changes have also prompted governments to take a renewed interest in TVET policy and practice as an important part of their development agendas. Nevertheless, while TVET has stimulated extraordinary economic growth in some countries, it has failed to live up to expectations in others. Although the internationally-agreed goals of Education For All (EFA) include TVET notably in Goal 3, ‘Ensuring that the learning needs of all young people and adults are met through equitable access to appropriate learning and life skills programmes’ (UNESCO, 1990), the Education For All movement has not always been so strongly linked with TVET. Over time, EFA became more widely associated with two issues: universal primary education and gender equality; and mainly with developing countries, countries in transition and those in a post-conflict situation. The position long advocated by UNESCO-UNEVOC (which is, that basic education, the cornerstone of EFA, occurs not only in primary and secondary, but also at vocational level in both formal and non-formal settings, and further, that Education For All cannot be achieved without a rapid expansion of high-quality, relevant TVET) now has a wider resonance. UNESCO, as the only United Nations organization with a mandate that covers all aspects of education, has recently launched several programmes that aim to guide the TVET systems of its member countries towards achieving more quality, equity and relevance. Public consultation for the Education for All Global Monitoring Report has started for the 2012 Report. This report will focus on skill development for employability, with an emphasis on strategies that increase employment opportunities for marginalized groups. As a result, UNESCO is using the 2012 Report as an important opportunity to address this neglected issue on the Education for All agenda, and

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to fill a gap in the Global Monitoring Report’s coverage of the EFA Goals, as set at the World Education Forum in Dakar in 2000. In addition, UNESCO has adopted a Strategy for TVET which guides its activities in relevant programme areas from 2010 to 2015. This TVET Strategy seeks to promote TVET and skills development for the world of work within a broader framework of lifelong learning. As such, it states that, ‘in a globalized world, education and training, as part of a process of lifelong learning, are central to reducing poverty and significantly increase the likelihood of finding decent work or of generating income through self-employment. In the current macro-economic and financial environment, investment in TVET is therefore an instrument to accelerate and sustain economic recovery. However, as TVET is generally very expensive in terms of cost per student, it is important to ensure that it is implemented in a cost-effective manner in line with labour-market needs’. Both the UNESCO TVET strategy and current work on the Global Monitoring Report recommend an inclusive and holistic approach to TVET management and delivery. They transport the idea that TVET systems should not limit themselves to the imparting of skills that equip learners to perform the tasks required of their occupation. Vocational learning should seek to empower learners to renew and adapt their work skills to rapidly changing work environments. In other words, vocational learning should encompass the notion of sustainability. The concept of sustainability is used here to describe TVET that is renewable and adaptable to the changing demands of work, and which contributes to sustainable economic development, as well as being in keeping with the environmental tenets of the ESD movement. While the concepts of sustainable and inclusive vocational learning are becoming more widely acknowledged in the global TVET community, solutions for its implementation are needed. The different chapters of this cutting-edge volume provide a theoretical framework for the analysis of learning processes and seek to present pedagogic approaches that are responsive to the needs of the individual as well as the labour market. This volume showcases examples that have led to successful learning outcomes in various countries and contexts, and I therefore trust that the theoretical approaches and practical examples presented here will be of particular interest to the international TVET community. Rupert Macleam Hong Kong, July 2011

References UNESCO. (1990). World declaration on education for all and framework for action to meet basic learning needs. Adopted by the world conference on education for all, Jomtien, Thailand, March 5–9, 1990. Paris: UNESCO. UNESCO. (2010). UNESCO TVET Strategy. Retrieved July 20, 2011, from www.unesco.org/new/ en/education/themes/education-building-blocks/tvet/strategy UNESCO. (forthcoming 2012). EFA Global Monitoring Report 2012. Theme: Skills development. Retrieved July 20, 2011, from <www.unesco.org/new/en/education/themes/leading-theinternational-agenda/efareport/reports/2012-tvet>

Note on VET and TVET

UNESCO has officially defined technical and vocational education and training as being a range of learning experiences that are relevant to the world of work, that occur in a variety of learning contexts – formal, non-formal or informal – and that take place in educational institutions or at the workplace. It encompasses both initial skill development undertaken by young people prior to entering the labour market, and continuing vocational training undertaken by adults whilst in work or during periods when they are economically inactive, through various forms of “re-skilling” and “up-skilling” (UNESCO-UNEVOC, 2006). Technical and vocational education and training (TVET) is a term used by UNESCO to define and to encompass what – in different geographic areas in the world and in different contexts – is known variably as apprenticeship training, vocational education, technical education, technical vocational education (TVE), occupational education (OE), vocational education and training (VET), career and technical education (CTE), workforce education (WE), or workplace education (WE), among others. In order to agree on a common reference term, participants at UNESCO’s World Congress on Technical and Vocational Education and Training in Seoul (1999) decided that the best and most comprehensive term to use is technical and vocational education and training (TVET). Therefore, because it is the designation officially applied by UNESCO, we will use the acronym TVET throughout this volume in the UNESCO-UNEVOC series on Technical and Vocational Education and Training, when it is used as a concept, whereas we will use the term or acronym prevalent in a specific country when a particular system is directly referred to.

Reference UNESCO-UNEVOC. (2006). Participation in formal TVET worldwide: An initial statistical study (p. 15). Bonn: UNESCO-UNEVOC.

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Contents

1 Introduction: Innovations in Theory and Practice . . . . . . . . . . Ralph Catts, Ian Falk and Ruth Wallace Part I

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Theoretical Aspects of Vocational Learning

2 Social Partnerships in Learning: Connecting to the Learner Identities of Disenfranchised Regional Learners . . . . . . . . . . . Ruth Wallace 3 Where ‘The TVET System’ Meets the Performativity of Vocational Learning: Borderlands of Innovation and Future Directions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ian Falk and Kaler Surata

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4 Constructing Learners as Members of Networks . . . . . . . . . . Jo Balatti and Stephen Black

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5 Competence as Collective Process . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Nick Boreham

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Part II

Cross-Cultural Perspectives of Vocational Learning

6 Indigenous Dot Com: E-Learning in Australian Indigenous Workforce Development and Engagement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ruth Wallace and Rhonda Appo 7 Vocational Learning by Native Americans in the USA . . . . . . . Cornelia Butler Flora and Mary Emery 8 TVET Identities in Knowledge Work: Gender and Learning in a Globalizing Industry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Irene Malcolm

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Part III

Vocational Learning Practice

9 New Forms of Learning in German TVET – Theoretical Remarks and Empirical Results . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Michael Göhlich and Nicolas Schöpf 10

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Good Practice Models for Using TVET to Address Skill Shortages: A Case Study from Health . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sue Kilpatrick, Susan Johns, Patricia Millar, Georgina Routley and Quynh Lê Vocational Education Pedagogy and the Situated Practices of Teaching Core Skills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Roy Canning Literacies in the Learning Careers of Students . . . . . . . . . . . . Richard Edwards and Kate Miller

Part IV

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Looking Ahead

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Vocational Learning in the Frame of a Developing Identity . . . . . John Guenther

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Mature Adult Learning and Employment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ralph Catts

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Learning in Working Life: Identity and Workplace Learning . . . John Field

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The Impact of Self-Perception on Vocational Learning . . . . . . . Larry Smith and Margaret Kling

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Vocational Learning Futures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ralph Catts, Ian Falk and Ruth Wallace

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Author Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Subject Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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About the Authors

Rhonda Appo is currently the E-learning Coordinator for Queensland Innovations Project under the Australian Flexible Learning Framework. She has a passion for programmes that involve learning technologies for Indigenous Australians and possesses more than 20 years’ experience in public-sector training and employment. Queensland Department of Education and Training, Indigenous VET Initiatives, City East, QLD, Australia, [email protected] Jo Balatti is a Senior Lecturer in Education at James Cook University, Townsville, Australia. Her interest in social capital in the context of learning began with her doctoral project, completed in 2002, which used narrative analysis to investigate a grassroots professional development initiative in an industrial worksite. The study revealed limitations of conventional mentoring programmes as learning support systems and showed the value of social capital building in establishing a learning community. Her research interests now centre on learning communities in formal and non-formal settings, and in education and non-education contexts. School of Education, James Cook University, Townsville, QLD, Australia, [email protected] Stephen Black is currently a Research Associate at the University of Technology, Sydney. Prior to this, and for more than 20 years, he worked in the public VET system in Australia as a frontline manager of adult literacy and numeracy programmes. His PhD, completed in 2001, was a critical analysis of literacy and numeracy as social practices. For many years he has researched adult literacy and numeracy programmes, and most recently, in partnership with Jo Balatti and Ian Falk, he has focused on the social capital elements of these programmes. Centre for Research in Learning and Change, University of Technology, Sydney, NSW, Australia, [email protected] Nick Boreham is Visiting Professor at the Faculty of Education, University of Glasgow, Scotland. Previously he was a Professor of Education at the Universities of Manchester and Stirling and an Educational Researcher for professional bodies including the Joint Board of Clinical Nursing Studies and the East Anglian Examinations Board. His research focuses on the interaction between work and learning in both industry and the helping professions, and his teaching focuses xiii

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on education for work and the methodology of educational research. Nick has directed numerous research projects on occupational competence and work-based learning in the context of social and economic change. He was Coordinator of the 10-country European research network ‘Work Process Knowledge in Technological and Organizational Development’, which investigated the knowledge requirements for new forms of work in Europe. Faculty of Education, University of Glasgow, Glasgow, UK, [email protected] Cornelia Butler Flora is Charles F. Curtiss Distinguished Professor of Sociology and Agriculture and Life Sciences at Iowa State University. Her PhD is from Cornell University. She was Director of the North Central Regional Center for Rural Development (NCRCRD), covering 12 Midwestern US states. A past President of the Rural Sociological Society, the Community Development Society, the Association for Agriculture and Human Values, and the Midwestern Association of Latin American Studies, she is a fellow of the American Association for the Advancement of Science. Department of Sociology, Iowa State University, Ames, IA, USA, [email protected] Dr. Roy Canning is a Senior Lecturer within the Stirling Institute of Education at the University of Stirling. He has directed the Teaching Qualification for Further Education (TQFE) programme at the Institute and was Section Head of the Lifelong Learning group. He has previously worked as a Human Resources Development Manager in UK organizations and as a Consultant for a number of international companies. His research interests are in vocational education, international comparative studies in teacher education, apprenticeship systems and professional development. Current research projects include an international comparative ESRC study on Older Workers’ learning in the hospitality industry and a European project on prevocational education in schools. School of Education, University of Stirling, Stirling, FK9 4LA, UK, [email protected] Ralph Catts is a Senior Research Fellow at the Stirling Institute of Education, University of Stirling. He is also an Honorary Fellow in the Department of Education at University of New England, Australia, where he was a Senior Lecturer until 2004. His research has focused on two areas. The first addresses access and equity in educational provision for disadvantaged people and deprived communities, and the other strand is concerned with the role of generic skills in HE with a special focus on the evaluation of information literacy programmes. School of Education, University of Stirling, Stirling, FK9 4LA, Scotland, UK, [email protected] Richard Edwards is Professor of Education at the Stirling Institute of Education. Between 2004 and 2007 he was Co-Director of the Literacies for Learning in Further Education project. He has researched and written extensively on adult education, lifelong learning and vocational education. His most recent books are with R. Ivanic et al. (2009) Improving Learning College: Rethinking Literacies Across the Curriculum (London, Routledge); edited with G. Biesta and M. Thorpe (2009) Rethinking Contexts for Learning and Teaching, Communities, Activities and Networks (London, Routledge); and with T. Fenwick (2010) Actor-network

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Theory in Education (London, Routledge). School of Education, University of Stirling, Stirling, FK9 4LA, Scotland, UK, [email protected] Mary Emery is Adjunct Professor in the Department of Sociology at Iowa State University and part of the Faculty in Extension to Communities. Her PhD is from Rutgers University. She served for seven years as the Associate Director of the North Central Regional Center for Rural Development (NCRCRD). With Cornelia Flora, she is Co-Chair, Online Master’s Degree in Community Development, and NCRCRD Fellow and Tribal College Liaison. She is currently President of the Community Development Society. Department of Sociology, Iowa State University, Ames, IA, USA, [email protected] Professor Ian Falk holds the Chair of Rural and Remote Education at Charles Darwin University, Darwin, NT. Professor Falk’s more than 200 books, chapters and journal articles are in community and regional development and well-being, social capital, leadership, policy, formal and informal learning and adult literacy. From 2007 he has been living and working in Indonesia where he is in charge of a major research project partnered with the Australian Cooperative Research Centre for National Plant Biosecurity into the ways communities, regions and governments can identify and manage issues related to food security, biosecurity and biodiversity. School of Education, Charles Darwin University, Darwin, NT, Australia, [email protected] John Field is Professor of Lifelong Learning at the University of Stirling, Scotland, and Visiting Professor in Continuing Education, Birkbeck College, University of London. He is an active researcher on adult learning and social capital, who has been appointed to advise a number of policy bodies in Britain, Ireland and elsewhere. He is the author of a number of books, including Lifelong Learning and the New Educational Order, as well as many papers in scholarly journals. He has been working with adult learners since 1978. School of Education, University of Stirling, Stirling, FK9 4LA, Scotland, UK, [email protected] Dr. Michael Göhlich has been Professor of Education (Chair) at the Friedrich Alexander University Erlangen-Nuremberg since 2002. He previously worked at the universities of Berlin, Cottbus, Heidelberg and Siegen. The focus of his research is on learning, especially organizational learning from a pedagogical point of view. He works on organizational pedagogy, further education and intercultural education. He leads a three-year (until 2012) interdisciplinary research project financed by the German Federal Ministry of Education and Research on transculturalization and cultural translation in German-Czech organizations as learning processes which generate the need for specific learning support. Some of his recent publications are with H.W. Leonhard et al. (2006) Transkulturalität und Pädagogik (Weinheim: Juventa), with J. Zirfas (2007) Lernen. Ein pädagogischer Grundbegriff (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer), ed. with E. König and Ch. Schwarzer (2007) Beratung, Macht und organisationales Lernen (Wiesbaden: VS), ed. with S. Weber and St. Wolff (2009) Organisation und Erfahrung (Wiesbaden: VS). Michael Göhlich is member of the German Society of Educational Research and Chairman of its commission

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on organizational pedagogy. Friedrich Alexander University, Erlangen, Germany, [email protected] Dr. John Guenther’s research and evaluation interests stem from several years of experience as a vocational education teaching and learning practitioner. This has led to a more focused interest on the intersection between community wellbeing, learning and capacity building in a variety of contexts. These include regional and rural communities, Indigenous peoples and a broad spectrum of industries. As an independent consultant he partners collaboratively with research and industry organizations across Australia. Cat Conatus, Ulverstone, TAS, Australia, [email protected] Susan Johns is a Research Fellow with the University Department of Rural Health at the University of Tasmania. She is a former teacher, editor and instructional designer, and previously worked in the non-government sector, managing a collaborative early childhood and parenting service delivery programme. Susan’s multidisciplinary research into community capacity building examines partnerships involving the government and non-government sectors, with a strong focus on health and education. She has a particular interest in rural community development, and the role of social capital and leadership. Susan has presented and published her research findings nationally and internationally. University Department of Rural Health, University of Tasmania, Launceston, TAS, Australia, [email protected] Professor Sue Kilpatrick is Pro Vice Chancellor (Rural and Regional), Deakin University Australia. She has a PhD in the Economics of Education and a Masters of Economics in Labour Economics. Her research interests are education and learning in rural and regional Australia, social capital, rural workforce, health systems, community participation, learning for natural resource management and primary industry, and leadership. She has over 160 publications in these areas, besides working as a researcher and consultant with local communities. She is interested in the application of evidence-based best practice of processes through which rural communities and services develop effective partnerships to build community capacity, as well as improve economic and well-being outcomes. Deakin University, Warrnambool, VIC, Australia, [email protected] Margaret Kling is the Managing Director of Carson Australasia, a Registered Training Organization operating out of Brisbane delivering accredited and nonaccredited courses. Margaret is an Accredited Practitioner and a former member of the council with the Australian Institute of Training and Development (AITD) and was a member of the Executive Board for Adult Learning Australia (ALA) from 2007 to 2009. Her qualifications include a Bachelor of Science (Psychology), a Master of Training and Development and TESOL (Teachers of English to Speakers of Other Languages) and she is completing her PhD in Adult Learning. Margaret also lectures in business for international students through the Brisbane campus of Central Queensland University. Carson Australasia, Brisbane, QLD, Australia, [email protected]

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Dr. Quynh Lê is a Lecturer and the Graduate Research Coordinator at the University Department of Rural Health, Tasmania. She gained her academic qualifications in interdisciplinary fields including engineering, education, computing and health sciences. Her current teaching and research interests include social determinants of health through multilevel analysis and spatial analysis, cultural and diversity health, population health and application of information technology (IT) in health and education. She has contributed to a wide range of publications in the areas of rural health, intercultural health, health workforce issues, social epidemiology and the application of IT in education and health. University Department of Rural Health, University of Tasmania, Launceston, TAS, Australia, [email protected] Irene Malcolm graduated as a linguist, having studied at Glasgow, the University of Kiel (Germany) and at the University of Vienna (Austria) and has recently completed her doctorate at the University of Stirling. Her teaching career involved working in TVET in the post-compulsory sector as a Further Education (FE) lecturer. Her research interests in work and learning developed from her experience in vocationally oriented FE and her employment in the training industry which allowed her to gain insights in a range of workplaces and industry sectors in a number of countries. Before taking up her present post at Dundee she was a researcher and then lecturer in Lifelong Learning at the Stirling Institute of Education. School of Education, Social Work and Community Education, College of Arts and Social Sciences, University of Dundee, Dundee, Scotland, [email protected] Patricia Millar is a Research Fellow and Lecturer at the University of Tasmania. She has worked on a number of projects in the areas of education, vocational education and training, language and literacy, family capacity building and community development. She collaborated with Ian Falk on evaluating literacy and numeracy in Training Packages, and with Sue Kilpatrick on research into people with poor language, literacy and numeracy skills as a hidden equity group, and on aligning the farmer extension and vocational education and training sectors. University Department of Rural Health, University of Tasmania, Launceston, TAS, Australia, [email protected] Kate Miller is a Research Fellow at the Stirling Institute of Education, University of Stirling. She is also a member of the Centre for Research in Life Long Learning at the Glasgow Caledonian University. Her research has focused on curriculummaking in schools and colleges. One focus of her research has been on literacy practices for learning and the use of new digital literacies in education and in other domains of students’ lives. School of Education, University of the West of Scotland, Ayr Campus, Beech Grove, Ayr, KA8 0SR, [email protected] Georgina Routley was a researcher and Associate Lecturer, University Department of Rural Health, University of Tasmania from 2004 to 2007. University Department of Rural Health, University of Tasmania, Launceston, TAS, Australia, [email protected]

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Dr. Nicolas Schöpf has worked as a Professor of Adult and Further Education at the Julius Maximilian University in Würzburg since 2009. Previously, he was a Research Associate and Project Manager in research institutes for nine years, undertaking applied research in TVET and further education beyond university walls. The centre of his research activities and projects recently was the development and the implementation of European transparency instruments such as the European Qualifications Framework (EQF) and the European Credit System for Vocational Education and Training (ECVET) and methodic and structural innovations in TVET and further education. Julius Maximilian University, Würzburg, Germany, [email protected] Professor Larry Smith is the Director of Business Research in the Faculty of the Professions at the University of New England. His previous appointments have included the following: Head of School, Professional Development and Leadership, UNE; Associate Professor (administration and leadership), Central Queensland University; member of the Senior Executive Service of the Queensland Government (during which time he was State Director [curriculum] and Director of the Strategic Research Unit for the Department of Employment, Education and Training); and Managing Director of his own SME, The Knowledge Company. Professor Smith has conducted a number of major consultancies for state, national and international governments and agencies, including the World Bank, and has participated on a number of national and international committees. He is currently a member of the Academic Advisory Board for the Australian Institute of Management, and Chairs the AIM NSW Business Management and Leadership Taskforce. He has received several national and international fellowship awards, and has received a Life Membership of the Australian College of Educators for his professional contribution to post-school education. Faculty of the Professions, University of New England, Armidale, NSW, Australia, [email protected] Professor Dr. Sang Putu Kaler Surata graduated from Mahasaraswati University Denpasar (Bachelor of Science) in 1986. He completed his Master of Science at the Agricultural Institute in Bogor, Java, in Natural and Environmental Management in 1993. His PhD, also from the Agricultural Institute in Bogor (2000), is in Biology. He has long experience working in partnership research projects with Professor Stephen Lansing at the Santa Fe Institute, USA, where he held a post-doctoral position in 2002 in social ecology. Currently, he is a Professor of Ecology at the Department of Biology Education (undergraduate degree) and Environmental Management and Regional Planning (postgraduate degree) at Mahasaraswati University, Denpasar. Universitas Mahasaraswati Denpasar, Bangli-Bali, Indonesia, [email protected] Ruth Wallace is the Director of the Social Partnerships in Learning Research Consortium at Charles Darwin University, Darwin, NT. Ruth’s particular interest is related to engaging in research that improves outcomes for Indigenous, government and industry stakeholders in workforce development and education across

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regional and remote Australia. Ruth’s research focus is in vocational education and training practice and workforce development in regional and remote contexts. Ruth has undertaken research into flexible learning, engaged learning and developing effective pedagogy, materials and assessment for marginalized students. In particular, this work explores approaches that recognize marginalized learners’ diverse knowledge systems and strengths. Her research examines the links between identity and adults’ involvement in post-compulsory schooling and the development of effective pathways through flexible learning and recognition of diverse knowledge systems. School of Education, Charles Darwin University, Darwin, NT, Australia, [email protected]

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Chapter 1

Introduction: Innovations in Theory and Practice Ralph Catts, Ian Falk and Ruth Wallace

Introduction At the end of the first decade of the twenty-first century there were calls for a new approach to technical and vocational education and training in response to marked economic changes, continued technological change, increased demand for sustainable energy use, and social and demographic changes. In Europe, 2010 saw the end of the decade of reform envisaged in the Lisbon Strategy which identified vocational education as one of the drivers of the thrust towards achieving a European ‘knowledge economy’. Cedefop (the European Centre for the Development of Vocational Training) has published a substantial review of policies and concluded that more needs to be done. It has highlighted areas for further development that include Descy et al. (2009, p. 13): (a) achieving high levels of quality and innovation in technical vocational education and training (TVET) systems to benefit all learners and make European TVET globally competitive; (b) linking TVET with the labour-market requirements of the knowledge economy for a highly skilled workforce, and especially, due to the strong impact of demographic change, the upgrading and competence development of older workers; (c) addressing the needs of low-skilled and disadvantaged groups for the purpose of achieving social cohesion and increasing labour-market participation. Europe, however, constitutes only one response to technical and vocational education and training. From a truly international perspective the picture is mixed, to say the least. TVET systems typically do less well when small-to-medium enterprise is considered, and employment in this sector in western countries tends to be more than 50 per cent of the total workforce. In addition, there is a large R. Catts (B) School of Education, University of Stirling, Stirling, FK9 4LA, Scotland, UK e-mail: [email protected]

R. Catts et al. (eds.), Vocational Learning, Technical and Vocational Education and Training: Issues, Concerns and Prospects 14, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-1539-4_1,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2011

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proportion in most countries whose vocational skills and knowledge are self-taught or acquired in other culturally appropriate ways. Considering the fact that formal TVET systems as such probably do not cater to more than 50 per cent of any given country’s adult population, the intersection between vocational skills and knowledge acquired through non-systemic vocational learning and those acquired through formal systems acquires great significance. From the non-formal systemic perspective, it could be questioned why the non-systemic sector is so successful. What are the factors that have made non-formal system vocational learning retain its leading role in the vocational learning stakes? After all, many years and resources have been put into the formal system vocational learning, while less of the same kind of resources have been expended on informal learning systems. A pertinent question for the formal system sector is what could and should be done to better provide vocational learning for those presently likely to pursue learning via the informal sector? The contributing authors in this volume set forth evidence of new ways of thinking about and addressing these issues and priorities and, hence, of enabling greater effectiveness in technical and vocational education and training. In focusing on evidence of effectiveness, six themes have emerged across the chapters, namely • the situated nature of vocational learning; • the balance between the social context of much vocational learning and support for self-directed adult vocational learning; • the two ways that vocational learning occurs: through TVET systems, and through non-systemic, often called ‘informal’ vocational learning; • the ways systemic and non-systemic vocational learning apply in different contexts for different purposes; • knowing and knowledge management processes; and hence • implications for pedagogy and vocational learning. As Field points out in Chapter 15, work is an important factor in adult engagement in both formal and informal learning but its effect can be inhibiting or enhancing, depending on the extent to which workplace training programmes focus on an inward-looking and surveillance culture or on encouragement through mentoring of formal and informal learning. Moreover, debates are still current about whether ‘work’ should be the only orientation for formal TVET systems, a factor implicitly recognized in point (c) of Descy’s quote above. Some literature that addresses situated learning has taken this narrow focus on vocational education, but it is possible to acknowledge the immediate context as important in learning, while identifying the wider context in which people expand the application of their knowledge. Beyond Europe, policy makers in other developed countries are also seeking to ensure that technical and vocational education and training is responsive to both the demands for a flexible workforce while equipping individuals with broad-based

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skills and knowledge. However in some instances the approach is limited to an attempt to refine the focus on individual competencies, without addressing issues other than the situated context of vocational learning. For instance, in Australia, the recent governmental review of VET Products (National Quality Council, 2009) focused on expanding the definition of competency to include ‘the ability to transfer and apply skills and knowledge to new situations and environments’. Moreover, a narrow focus on current ‘work’ structures in the various countries avoids the issue, and therefore challenge, of the nature of ‘future work’. Two additional theories may help to broaden perspectives. First, as many of the authors who have contributed to this book have identified, much adult and especially vocational learning occurs in social contexts and most knowledge is co-produced by several actors. It is also influenced by the artefacts available in the learning context. Some of the authors have specifically identified forms of social capital that facilitate, or inhibit learning, especially where learners and those working in the institutions where learning is to occur value different forms of cultural capital. In addition, the notion of recontextualizing vocational knowledge is a useful explanatory theory. According to Evans et al. (2007), there are four forms of recontextualization: • recontextualizing especially academic knowledge through the design of curricula to make it relevant to work; • pedagogic recontextualization through the explicit linking of contexts through teaching; • workplace recontextualization through which applications of knowledge are supported through mentorship; and • learner recontextualization through both shared experiences among learners and also the linking of prior experiences with new knowledge. While not explicitly referring to the concept of recontextualization, many of the writers give evidence of one or more of the four dimensions of recontextualization. For instance Göhlich and Schöpf (Chapter 9) provides three examples of how vocational knowledge is recontextualized within work places using mentoring, and in colleges using what they term ‘experience-related’ learning in concrete learning situations. Likewise, while describing a human capital approach to workforce planning Kilpatrick et al. (Chapter 10) identify in their three models to address vocational skills shortages examples of two forms of recontextualizing vocational knowledge. Their first model involves what they term ‘customizing curricula’ to engage with the learners, which is an example of recontextualizing curriculum content. The second model involves redesign of workplace requirements to fit the capacities of potential employees, which is an example of recontextualizing workplace knowledge, while the third model involves a combination of recontextualizing both the curriculum content and workplace knowledge, which is in many contexts the solution most likely to succeed.

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Book Structure Each chapter makes a useful contribution to current theory and practice from diverse perspectives which together provide an international consideration of innovation in the theory and practice of vocational learning and education. The situated and social nature of vocational learning is a recurrent theme across most of the chapters in this book. Social networks are conceived by Falk and Surata (Chapter 3) to be the mechanisms by which the performativity of vocational learning is obtained. In other words, within the social and cultural contexts learners recontextualize vocational knowledge systems to achieve outcomes that are effective in their work and other social contexts. The multitude of networks to which learners belong is emphasized both by Balatti and Black (Chapter 4) and by Wallace (Chapter 2) who highlight the implications for effective vocational learning of the different identities and facets of identities that people adopt in their different work, community and family roles. Smith and Kling (Chapter 16) use a different term, self-perception, but the impact they describe is consistent with those other authors’ claim for ‘identities’. These chapters contain examples of the relevance of multiple networks and identities for the effectiveness of the application of learning. In many developed economies the notion of competence is still viewed primarily as an individual attribute (e.g. Béduwé et al., 2009). However, in many of the innovative examples of TVET pedagogy and curriculum design presented in this collection, the relevance of using knowledge in social contexts is highlighted. Boreham (Chapter 5) provides a simple figure that helps to identify the complementary roles of both collective processes and outcomes on the one hand, with the acquisition of individual processes and outcomes on the other. He argues that the focus on individual competencies in TVET curricula design in the Anglophone and some European countries militates against the effective recontextualization of learning in workplaces, where of necessity tasks are performed by teams of people, and hence where collective competency is needed. The process of learning in supportive bonded social networks is also identified by Catts (Chapter 14) in relation to mature adults re-entering formal vocational learning. Examining the experiences of first nation peoples within western TVET institutions and with western TVET curricula helps to highlight the discontinuity between institutional structures and curricula design, and the social partnership learning that is central to the cultures of most first nation communities. Wallace (Chapter 2) argues that learning is a continuous cultural process that ‘transcends classrooms and workplaces’. Flora and Emery suggest (Chapter 7) that the gulf between western individualistic culture and first nation perspectives justifies in the North American tradition the formation of first nation colleges where collective competency can be developed. They illustrate how first nation individuals who have been living in the contemporary western cultural context can enrich their social identity by joining peoples from first nation communities to develop and incorporate understanding of the community cultures. Flora and Emery propose seven community cultures through which they can sustain vocational learning which draws on first-world

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technologies to help to achieve community learning that empowers cultural traditions. These community capitals include connection with land and nature, the built environment and heritage, finances, cultural traditions, human skills, social practice and political engagement. They argue that active engagement of these dimensions of capital provide a sustainable basis for vocational learning and its application to practice for community good and individual development. Wallace and Appo (Chapter 6) explore the application of e-learning to vocational provision for first nation communities, especially in rural and remote communities. They argue that the examples they present indicate that while e-learning is value laden, the benefits of access to learning resources electronically can be achieved across communities provided the curriculum and pedagogic strategies are co-produced with Indigenous participants. Thus recontextualization of both curriculum content and pedagogic strategies is necessary. In Chapter 13 Guenther also draws on first nation cultural knowledge to extend the concept of identity to cultural identity and to emphasize the importance of social identity in a community or workplace group as a predominant influence in forming practices within the given social context. As other literature on the impact of social norms on contextualized identity has shown (Korte, 2007, p. 173), individuals in developed societies including workplaces also often adapt or inhibit their personal beliefs to fit in with group norms. Hence there is strong support across the chapters in this book for a broader conceptualization of vocational learning, and in this context of drawing upon a wider range of cultural knowledge and experience to help better understand the context of innovation in vocational teaching and curricula. In contrast to the lessons that can be drawn from understanding first nation peoples’ experiences of TVET, Malcolm (Chapter 8) raises the implications of global distribution of translation services in the ICT industry and raises issues for knowledge formation and management. In particular Malcolm poses questions about the nature of gendered roles and the lesser valuing placed on the vocational knowledge of ‘home workers’ who are predominantly female. She found that their vocational knowledge is often not valued as much as that of male contract workers working in more structured organizations and raises implications for both identity and practice. She concludes that her data indicates that class, gender and race can impinge upon the credibility afforded to vocational knowledge in the workplace. Göhlich and Schöpf (Chapter 9) present three case studies that illustrate situated self-directed learning in informal and formal workplace settings, and also in college contexts. These examples illustrate recontextualization of curricula and workplace learning. They identify the importance of support teaching staff to achieve the implementation of innovative pedagogic techniques. They conclude therefore that there is a need for continuing education for vocational teachers to successfully implement the flexible approaches to vocational education training that they describe. This renewed emphasis on recognizing the scholarship of teaching implies a reversal of the trend towards casualization of the vocational teaching workforce. Kilpatrick et al. (Chapter 10) provide a wider human resource context in which to situate vocational training. They identify the importance of redesigning not only vocational curriculum but also redesigning jobs to fit the capacities of available

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workers especially in a context of skill shortages. Hence, like Field (Chapter 15), they highlight the importance of reconceptualizing TVET curricula in the broader context of adjustments in work roles to accommodate social and technological changes. A further issue explored in several chapters is ways of approaching the attainment of what are termed generic vocational skills. These adult competencies include communication skills, literacy and numeracy, working with others, using information and using technologies. Edwards and Miller focused on ‘literacy practices’ adopting this term to indicate that the learning was situated in a vocational discipline, which in the case study presented was child care. They noted that in practice adult competencies are inter-related capacities. For instance literacy practice involves the use of technologies, communication and working with others. They suggest that the effectiveness of acquisition of generic capacities can be enhanced by the inclusion of learning in everyday activities beyond the formal institutional learning context. Hence in terms of the recontextualization framework of Evans et al. (2007), their conclusion is that programme design that encompasses content recontextualization can enhance outcomes. In Chapter 11, Canning addresses the issue of generic skills and identifies three categories of pedagogy in relation to the development of generic skills which he terms as embedded within vocational content and assessed implicitly, integrated with vocational content but assessed separately, and stand-alone teaching and assessment of ‘generic’ capacities. Canning confirmed that numeracy tends to be taught as situated knowledge that is integrated but separately assessed, while all other generic skills are commonly taught as embedded and implicitly assessed content within vocational courses. Field (Chapter 15), Guenther (Chapter 13), Smith and Kling (Chapter 16) and Catts (Chapter 14) present issues about innovative vocational education design and pedagogy in a broader context. Field focuses on the learning life of adults and sets specific learning episodes in a longitudinal context to remind us that learners draw on past affective experiences, and prior cognitive outcomes and skills when they approach a new learning task. He confirms that most continuing vocational learning is work related, which raises a challenge that Catts identifies in relation to mature adults who have been detached from work and education for an extended period of time, and who need a supportive network to recover prior skills and especially self-esteem as learners. Guenther also addresses the notion of acquiring skills for employment especially by people who are not in the workforce and places emphasis on personal and social identities as essential aspects of learning. Smith and Kling also address the role of personal attributes in vocational learning but take the view that social and personal identity theory are too complex and less understood in terms of application to vocational learning and prefer to address the psychological construct they term self-perception. They illustrate the role of self-perception in enabling or inhibiting vocational learning by reporting three case studies where the effect of enhancing self-perception has been explored. They conclude that every effort must be taken to improve self-perception to facilitate vocational learning. Hence, all these authors provide evidence to illustrate the importance of supporting learners to recontextualize their prior knowledge.

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Conclusion Effective knowing and learning for vocational purposes must take account of the wide range of variables that impact knowledge formation and which therefore promote learning. We contend that effective vocational learning comprises two equally important dimensions: (a) learning as the acquisition of vocational knowledge and (b) learning as the contextualized (socio-political and cultural) application of that knowledge. In the case of knowledge acquisition, the extent to which the socio-political and cultural factors in which the knowledge is acquired are different from those when the knowledge is applied can lead to a lack of effective and efficient application. For instance, in the example of classroom-based vocational learning, where the knowledge is applied elsewhere, in, say, a workplace, recontextualization of knowledge is necessary. In the case of vocational knowledge application, a set of situated factors come into play which are particular to the workplace or other situations where the knowledge is to be applied. Understanding these differences and the situated factors influencing effective TVET learning helps tease out the nature of ‘effectiveness’. By exploring the concept of recontextualization of knowledge and demonstrating applications to curriculum design, classroom pedagogy, and to enabling learners to assimilate prior knowledge, the evidence provided in the case studies reported in the following chapters supports the initiative of Evans et al. (2007) to move beyond the debate on the transfer of learning, through a focus on contextual support for learners. The importance of innovative vocational learning (whether systemically or nonsystemically acquired), of a recognition of the role of social networks and enhanced self-confidence, together with effective knowledge acquisition and management supported by appropriate curriculum design and pedagogy, has been emphasized in many of the contributions in this book. Most effective adult learners become selfdirected in their approaches to vocational learning and employ learning strategies that reflect their lifelong circumstances. For example, if they are working, they may prefer collegial learning experiences in which their peers are as important as their educators – in fact, their peers may be their main or, in informal contexts, their only mentors. Likewise those who are not in the workforce seeking to acquire vocational skills can benefit from building a supportive and bonded social capital within a learning group, as well as from accessing opportunities for progression utilizing linking and bridging social capital provided by tutors. In either case, approaches to knowing and learning will be a major influence on the capacities of learners to demonstrate proof of understanding and performance. Korte (2007, p. 177) has summarized the role of social identity in adult learning in the following terms: Social identity becomes an important lens through which people perceive new information, attribute cause, make meaning, and choose to undertake new learning. Without addressing the identity factors stemming from group membership, the success of typical training efforts may fail to realize their promise of improving individual and organizational performance.

Hence we conclude that it is time to add recognition of the role of social networks and social identity to the individual psychological constructs of self-perception

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and self-esteem. Recognition processes, when properly conceived, established and employed, provide the promise of a solid platform for the coming together of systemically and non-systemically acquired vocational skills and knowledge. This book draws together four elements that can contribute to theories of vocational learning that have not often been interlinked in the investigation of TVET. The four aspects are the situatedness of vocational learning; the power of social networks in vocational learning; knowing and knowledge management processes; and the implications for pedagogic practices in both the informal and the formal TVET systems. Combining these elements in thinking about vocational learning offers ways for teachers and learners to become more effective in achieving outcomes. In the following chapters we present research that describes a diverse range of international examples of innovative approaches to vocational education theory and practice which illustrate this approach and offer models for practice.

References Béduwé, C., Germe, J., Leney, T., Planas, J., Poumay, M., & Armstrong, R. (2009). New and emerging issues in vocational education and training research beyond 2010. In Cedefop (Ed.), Modernising vocational education and training in Europe (Vol. 2, pp. 17–72). Thesaloniki: Cedefop. Descy, P., Tchibozo, G., & Tessaring, M. (2009). Introduction: Modernising vocational education and training – A fourth Cedefop report on VET research. In Cedefop (Ed.), Modernising vocational education and training in Europe (Vol. 2, pp. 12–16). Thesaloniki: Cedefop. Evans, K., Guile, D., & Harris, J. (2007). Putting knowledge to work: Project report. London: Institute of Education. Korte, R. (2007). A review of social identity theory with implications for training and development. Journal of European Industrial Training, 31(3), 166–180. National Quality Council. (2009). VET products for the 21st century: Final report of the joint steering committee of the NQC and the COAG skills and workforce development subgroup. Melbourne, TVET Australia. Located May 2010 at: www.nqc.tvetaustralia.com.au/__data/ assets/pdf_file/0004/49657/VET_Products_for_the_21stCentury_-_FINAL_REPORT.pdf

Part I

Theoretical Aspects of Vocational Learning

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Social Partnerships in Learning: Connecting to the Learner Identities of Disenfranchised Regional Learners Ruth Wallace

Introduction Post-compulsory providers (both universities and TVET providers) have particular, well-established identities informed by past experiences, relationships and interpretations of their stakeholders’ expectations. Those learners who do not traditionally see themselves as part of formal adult education centres or communities have established and shared identities about learning and engagement in formal and informal learning contexts. How do educational institutions connect with those disenfranchised learners? Addressing the disconnects that exist between the individuals, communities and educational institutions, and their various assumptions about engagement in learning activities means understanding the underlying nature of people’s and institutional connections, or lack thereof. The ways people interpret, operate within or make decisions about their education is based on their identities and institutions’ identities, and the connections between them, or in other words, their perception of the underlying relationships between them and institutions. These relationships are informed by the perceptions of individuals, communities and institutions of their own and others’ identities. These learner identities impact on their engagement in learning activities. Understanding the key factors of learning engagement that impact on the different learner identities is dependent on understanding the aspects of the multiple identities on which individuals draw, and the efficacy of those identities in negotiating new learning experiences. These identities are situated and negotiated in each context, time and place. Just as learning is situated (Scott, 2001) and identities are informed by individuals’ contexts and practices (Gee, 1999), so are learner identities situated in their informing local, regional and global communities’ lifeworlds. Developing innovative and successful approaches to engage disenfranchised regional learners in formal education necessitates an understanding of the

R. Wallace (B) School of Education, Charles Darwin University, Darwin, NT 0909, Australia e-mail: [email protected]

R. Catts et al. (eds.), Vocational Learning, Technical and Vocational Education and Training: Issues, Concerns and Prospects 14, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-1539-4_2,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2011

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ways people’s identities are entrenched in and in turn, impact on the ways they manage relationships between their worlds and that of the formal education system. These latter relationships and networks are described here as ‘social partnerships in learning’. The concept of social partnerships in learning is used to analyse the ways learner identities function, recognizing diverse knowledge systems as they relate to people’s worlds of work, community engagement and learning, and the relationships between them. Social partnerships in learning frameworks describe the interactions between agents, specifically the interagency and interdisciplinary relationships that enable effective learning in a range of informing contexts: different disciplines, workplaces, training sites and communities. This chapter reflects on the key drivers of disenfranchised learners’ identities and the role of learning partnerships in developing learner identities that support the engagement of regional learners in formal education. The implications of considering the role of learner identities in the provision of adult education programmes and associated support services are discussed, in particular the implications for educators that meet the expectations of learners and educational institutions and recognize disenfranchised learner identities.

Learning as Socially Constructed Social institutions, and the inherent elements of social order that define the conduct of those social institutions, can be interpreted in terms of the embedded knowledge systems that inform, and are informed by, norms and practices of societal structures (Berger & Luckman, 1966). An examination of the interactions between people and social institutions, for example through education, has the potential to reveal the diversity of the knowledge systems that operate, their degree of shared understanding or congruence and the impact on behaviours. Lave and Wenger (1991), when exploring the social nature of learning, identified situated learning as the process by which learning processes are embedded in a range of social practices in becoming full participants in the world. Theories of situated learning (Scott, 2001) recognize that learning interactions are a social practice, constructed by and through communities. The concept of socially constructed and situated learning establishes that people acquire new knowledge and skills, and generate new constructions of meaning through participating in a community of practice. Lave and Wenger found understanding situatedness is related to considerations of more than space and time, being dependent on other people and the related social setting. Situatedness is ‘about the relational character of knowing and learning, about the negotiated character of knowledge, learning, about the negotiated character of meaning, and about the concerned (engaged, dilemma-driven) nature of learning activity for the people involved’ (Lave & Wenger, 1991, p. 33). Learning is situated; learners and their contexts are socially situated. Gee (2007, p. 123) asserts the value of learning situations where learning is ‘situated in the sense that meaning is situated . . . and in the sense that skills and concepts are learned in an embodied way that leads to real understanding’. Scott (2001) notes that learning

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activities are essentially engaged in the broader relevant social based structures and discourse and that learning is embedded in the knowledge and power relationships in societal structures and pedagogies employed in learning events. Social aspects of learning include an understanding of the students’ learning community, community membership (as described by Wenger, 1998, p. 149), multiple ways of knowing and expressing ideas (e.g. multiliteracies as described by New London Group, 2000), and community priorities. These may accord with, or challenge an educational institution’s curriculum and accepted knowledge base. The New London Group (2000, pp. 10–18) have explored pedagogical approaches that recognize issues related to language, culture and gender to minimize their negative impact on educational success.

Disenfranchised Learners A recognition of formal education sites as socially contested sites, where power relations impact on learners’ and teachers’ experiences, helps in understanding the nature of engagement and disengagement. The alienation and disconnection of learners from formal education institutions and experiences has been explored by Smyth and Hattam (2004) and Te Riele (2003, pp. 148–150) who note that the reasons for disengagement from formal education relate to the rigidity of school systems, negative relationships with teachers, lack of feeling accepted or supported and the lack of connection between the curriculum and students’ own lives. Field (2005) argues that those who are most socially engaged demonstrate the values and attitudes related to a sense of agency and being able to ‘exert control over key parts of one’s life’ (Field, 2005, p. 144). Those who are disengaged from formal education are disenfranchised from associated knowledge resources including a sense of efficacy as a learner at an individual and community level (Field, 2005). Field (2005, p. 97) cautions that any consideration of disengagement should not be viewed simplistically or as undifferentiated; he notes that a description of disengaged learners is not merely defined in terms of opposition to engagement in learning but that there are degrees of engagement relating to involvement in a range of civic activity and related attitudes. While Field (2005, p. 97) notes that a broad association between learning and engagement exists, he cautions that the correlation is not simple or unambiguous. Disenfranchisement then would appear to relate to more than disengagement, and relate to active choice to disengage, an act taken in opposition to a set of perceived institutional social structures, beliefs or experiences. In turn, this is related to having a sense of agency within an educational system. That is, disenfranchised learners have a sense of agency that is enacted in opposition to, or defiance of, an educational system and in accord with the other community identities and priorities. Field (2005, p. 99) groups people’s attitudes to lifelong learning engagement into three broad clusters:

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• those who are sceptical about lifelong learning’s potential for achieving social change; • those who participate, but reject some kinds of participation to avoid indecision; and • those who actively engage in lifelong learning as part of personal development and community participation Recent studies (Searle, Funnell & Behrens, 2005; Rennie, Wallace, Falk, & Wignell, 2004; Wallace & Turnbull, 2005) have explored the disjuncture between teachers’ and students’ relationship to the knowledge, learning environments and pedagogies recognized in schools. Lankshear and Knobel (2003, p. 179) studied the disconnections between the cultural identities and experiences of teachers and students that made it difficult for teachers to connect learning to students’ experiences, teach for diversity and lessen disadvantage. Pakoa (2005) supports these findings in a study of the impact of identity and socially based expectations on the educational experiences and outcomes of Melanesian postgraduate students in Australia. Smyth and Hattam (2004) argue that school experiences which alienated young learners were related to the mismatches between their developing identity as a person and the narrow identities schools expect. This and Pakoa’s studies found students felt marginalized by others’ commonly shared misunderstandings that everyone has the same resources to succeed in education.

Examining Disenfranchised Regional Learners’ Experiences of Formal Education The research discussed here is based on a study of disenfranchised regional learners’ engagement in formal education. The outcomes of the research found learner identity had significant impact on disenfranchised learner engagement (see Wallace, 2008a, 2008b). The study investigated why so many people actively reject formal education and the associated benefits such as income and health outcomes. This study undertook a critical ethnography of adults in a regional area who are proportionally underrepresented in adult education enrolments and included people from social groups historically disenfranchised from educational institutions. The participants lived in a regional area in northern Australia and represent a range of cultural backgrounds, including Indigenous people from distinct families, regions, employment and educational backgrounds. The study focused on individual’s ‘lived experience (that) typically relies on an in-depth interview strategy . . . The primary strategy is to capture the deep meaning of experiences in their own words’ (Marshall & Rossman, 1999, p. 61). The adult learners’ in-depth narratives about educational histories were used to identify the key themes in their learning experiences and examine the complexities of participants’ engagement in social constructions of knowledge, learning and identity and the associated processes. The results of the study were used to develop an enacted learner identity framework that describes the elements of learning identities. In this framework, the nexus of membership in

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different learner identities is described as it relates to people’s worlds: family, local, institution, workplace and global communities. The study found that learners made decisions about engagement based on their own identities as learners and capacity to manage the conflicts when engagement in formal education would threaten their roles or identities in the community, family, workplace or educational institution. It found that disengaged learners had actively constructed their learner identities in opposition to the expectations of educational institutions. This finding is supported by Scott (2001, p. 39) who found that by ‘adopting a particular way of working, a particular understanding of knowledge the learner is rejecting or turning aside from other frameworks and this itself is an act of power’ (Scott, 2001, p. 39). Other learners had worked out how to negotiate their learning identities and were prepared to manage the associated challenges. The study also indicated that the ability to develop and maintain a strong learner identity repeatedly over a lifetime had a direct impact on learning engagement. Understanding the relationships that are engaged in developing and maintaining an empowered learner identity would benefit learners, teachers and learning partners; they are described here as social partnerships in learning.

Learner Identities Falk and Balatti (2003) observe the link that exists between education and identity, that learners are affected by the ways they understand themselves and understand their identities as learners in relation to education, both formal and informal. ‘Deep learning requires the learner being willing and able to take on a new identity in the world, to see the world and act on it in new ways’ (Gee, 2007, p. 172). Mendieta (2003, p. 407) describes identities as continually ‘constituted, constructed, invented, imagined, imposed, projected, suffered, and celebrated. Identities are never univocal, stable, or innocent. They are always an accomplishment and an endless project and empowering forms of ownership of meaning’. Gee (2000) has described four interrelated and mutable perspectives of identity, in terms of: • nature, such as physical appearance; • institutional perspectives, the rights and responsibilities a person is authorized and expected to execute; • discursive perspectives, the ways of being and entering into discourses; and • affinity perspectives, such as socially situated experiences, interactions and participation. Crenshaw (2003) depicts identities as socially constructed, with particular reference to socially constructed notions of gender and race and their impact on identities. A person’s identity, his/her knowledge and view of himself/herself or the way he/she is identified by others impacts the way he/she interacts with the literacy domains. In terms of its relationship to learning, Gee (1999) notes that a ‘socially situated identity’ includes the multiple identities that people take on in

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different practices and contexts, while the term ‘core identity’ is used to describe the continuous and relatively fixed sense of self in the world that underlies multifaceted identities. Wenger (1998) describes identity in practice as a negotiated experience, where people are identified by their participation, or lack thereof, in a group, as community membership, where people understand what is familiar, or not, and as a learning trajectory, defined in terms of historical influences. Wenger describes identity in terms of a nexus of membership and defined by the reconciliation of different types of membership of communities that people have. These communities can be at a local and a global level. Identity is being continuously renegotiated through participants’ interpretations of themselves in terms of learning events and contexts and their membership with relevant communities. This practice involves negotiating diverse ways of engaging in practice that reflect the participants’ individuality, accountability to significant communities and performance elements that are recognized or not as valid by the relevant communities (p. 155). ‘(S)ituated identities are mutually constructed and are concerned with situated means, social languages, cultural models and Discourses. Discourses cover what has been described as communities of practice, cultural communities, distributed knowledge or distributed systems’ (Gee, 1999, p. 38). Gee (2003) describes communities of learners as affinity groups that form first around a common endeavour and second about socio-cultural connections. Knowledge of affinity groups is holistic and intensive involving deep-connected knowledge about matters of importance to the community and their relationships to other valued knowledge sets rather than separated into specific narrow disciplines. People adopt a range of different practices, draw on identity resources and relate to contexts informed by their complex situated identities as learners and members of a range of communities. For example, the practices and discourses developed around the use of digital resources by Aboriginal people in East Arnhem Land using . . . digital resources in a social context as props or artefacts, in the same way that they would use nondigital resources like paintings, photos, diagrams, ceremonial objects, and of course the land itself and natural phenomena in talking about and representing themselves and their histories, and making agreements . . . the use of Aboriginal digital resources is serious business, making claims about ownership, about rights and responsibilities, and appropriate behaviour. In these cases the ways that the resources are identified and validated, the way they are accessed and displayed and the ways assemblages are put together and used in context, is a crucial part of the knowledge production process, and negotiations over resources (Christie, 2007, pp. 2–3).

Gee and Christie’s work examined how learners make decisions about using digital resources in their learning and work according to the community’s established and agreed rules. In this way, identity as it is defined in relation to a community informs people’s learning engagement and related decisions. Identities are also situated by place. Twigger-Ross and Uzell (1996, p. 206) note ‘all aspects of identity will, to a greater or lesser extent, have place-related expectations’, that an individual’s environment is not just a context in which identity is developed and affirmed. So how do learners enact their learner identities? Learners’

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identities are informed and impacted on by a range of identities and community memberships. The manner in which participants respond to, manage and resolve the inherent tensions in the nexus of membership of their own learner identities, has an impact on the outcomes from engagement or disengagement in education. The connections between identity and community membership are an essential part of learners’ behaviour and practice (Wallace, 2008a, 2008b). The tensions and decisions made about learning based on identities and identification with social agendas or communities can impact educational experiences, decisions about involvement in learning and definition as a learner.

Learning Engagement and Learner Identities ‘Deep learning requires the learner being willing and able to take on a new identity in the world, to see the world and act on it in new ways’ (Gee, 2007, p. 172). The interaction between learning engagement and identity within a socially constructed view of learning is powerful in understanding learners’ experiences and actions in relation to formal education systems. Learners and educators would benefit, then, from having a framework to understand learner identity and the forces that inform and transform learner identities. This framework is available to support educational institutions to attract and actively engage disenfranchised learners through educational provision that better aligns with the needs and identities of students. Through an analysis of regional learners’ identities in relation to informal and formal education reported previously (see Wallace, 2008a, 2008b), a framework for understanding and describing learner identities was developed. The enacted learner identity framework draws on learning identity (Gee, 2003; Falk & Balatti, 2003; Wenger, 1998; Falk & Kilpatrick, 2000) and social capital (Woolcock, 2001; Grootaert, Narayan, Nyhan Jones, & Woolcock, 2004; Gitell & Vidal, 1998; Putnam, 2000; Fukuyama, 1995); theoretical frameworks assists in describing learning elements that impact learner identity. The analysis identifies learner identity as it pertains to: • • • • • • •

types of training undertaken, purpose for learner engagement, networks accessed and supported through engagement, types of learner identity evident through engagement, resources used and demonstrated through engagement, degree of student-centred negotiability and learner empowerment, alignment of learners’ identities with informing identities i.e. professional, institutional, global and community.

Learners’ identities are mutable, shifting in no prescribed order where multiple identities may function at the same time in relation to different contexts or situations. In relation to learning, identities can be described in terms of:

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• resistant learner identities, avoiding externally imposed change to their learner identity at all costs, • persistent identities, surviving external challenges to learner identity by minimizing impact on core identity, • enacted identities, maintaining the integrity of an individual’s identity while exploring other learner identities and experiences, and • transitional identities, testing different identities in a nonlinear way. All of these identities incorporate a sense of agency which is enacted differently, namely to reject an institutional identity or to reinforce a nexus of local, workplace or other community memberships or asserting one’s place within an educational institution despite negative experience. Recognizing this sense of agency in all learners rejects a deficit view of people to explain disengagement, such as a lack of commitment or not understanding the importance of education. It is not that some people are passive agents in learning experiences; they are active agents whose actions include actively rejecting imposed frameworks, experiences or identities. Learners, more than passive consumers of knowledge and educational systems, are producers and teachers of knowledge and ideas as they relate to specific contexts (Gee, 2003). The value of the enacted learner identity theoretical model is in identifying the informing frameworks of learners’ identities and the keys to transitioning between learner identities. The combination of self-talk, articulating identity to others and identity resources were key to understanding learner identity. The results of this study found participants who had achieved their learning goals, identified outcomes from education, had a strong sense of self as learners, were able to articulate that identity to themselves and others, and had a range of resources on which to draw to manage their continued engagement in learning, particularly when continued engagement was a challenge to that individual’s sense of self and efficacy. The findings drawn from my study of disenfranchised regional learners are based on small numbers and not generalizable in the scientific sense. Analysis of the findings is designed to support theory-building for further testing. Participants had been involved in a range of educational experiences including primary school (as a student, parent and teacher), secondary school (as a student and teacher), vocational education and higher education to PhD level.

Purpose for Learner Engagement Falk and Kilpatrick (2000) in their discussion of social capital note that communities access knowledge and identity resources for their own purposes. The outcomes of the research found that the manner in which purpose for study interacted with learners’ identity had an impact on the kinds of identities that were enacted in the learning experience. When learners were participating to comply with an external requirement that was not reinforced by local and valued community memberships,

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learner identities focussed on surviving the difficult and conflicting situations they found themselves in. When the purpose was actively undermined by members of valued communities, particularly when that educational participation challenged the bonding ties, they had to resist what was happening in their community and to their school-based identity. Where the purpose was endorsed or could be explained satisfactorily in the community networks, empowered identities were evident and provided a support base to negotiate the identity challenges along the way. People explained why their involvement would benefit their role in their communities, a role that would be supported and approved in that community, family or other affiliation. For example, wanting to study to be a teacher in the local school and teach local children about concepts and using pedagogy of importance to that community, from an insider’s view. It also meant that a network of support understood the learning engagement and was prepared to help reinterpret it to support participation. As Gee (2007) notes, teaching and learning need to build bridges from damaged to positive learner identities in order for active and critical learning to happen. Gee (2007, p. 58) describes this kind of learning and teaching in terms of enticing learners to try despite their established fears, to establish a basis where the learner makes considerable effort despite having little and achieves meaningful success as a result of that effort.

Networks Accessed and Supported Through Engagement The sense of self of participants as learners, their learner identities as defined by themselves and others, i.e. their networks, was described in relation to their engagement in learning. Learners described their identity in terms of their informing networks, their experiences and self-efficacy. Learners’ identity resources drew on a range of strategies and networks informed by their relationships and community identities, including those which act in opposition to institutional identities. Learners talked about how they maintained their identity while studying and the strategies they employed, for example, studying off site so there was no need to be physically on campus or identifying a local mentor to support an individual’s study programme. When faced with the choice of succeeding by conforming to the educational institution in opposition to their own community affiliations, some people chose to remain members of their existing communities at the expense of engagement. For them, the bonding ties (Woolcock, 2001; Field, 2005; Grootaert et al., 2004) were strong and reinforced while the bridging ties were weak. Bonding ties link within homogenous groups, while bridging ties link across heterogeneous groups. What made the difference to the learner identities participants drew on were the resources they drew on, the language to describe their conflict, the networks to help inform that change or understand the processes with learning identities and their relationships with a range of institutional and community identities. They have persisted,

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resisted or managed the conflicts within learner identities until the stress of managing an aligned identity membership was greater than the need for achieving the goal.

Types of Learner Identity Evident Through Engagement Learners had, at some stage, persisted until the stress of managing the alignment of their identity membership was greater than the need to achieve the educational goal. Learners actively made the choice to withdraw from formal learning as the risk to their identity was too great and the potential reward too small. Persistent learners are described as learners who persist in their learner engagement, trying to balance their identity in terms of membership in a range of communities until it becomes too difficult, unviable or challenges their sense of self. Persistent learners described many attempts to express their difficulties to others and make an impact on the ways they engaged in educational settings. On the other hand, learners who had participated in learning by resisting the educational institution’s impact on their identity by getting involved to the point where their own identities were challenged were described as resistant learners. These learners participated until the risk of their involvement in education was greater than the risk of leaving education. Empowered learners could manage the associated risk taking and resolve the difficulties that had previously presented through their learning engagement, in a way that enabled their further engagement. In this way they had developed the capacity to manage their learner and other identities. Of course this is a gross overgeneralization, many people talked about the ways they worked to respond to and make changes in their experiences in education. The keys for making the transition from one sort of identity to another were related to their identification with the education system or experience.

Resources Used and Demonstrated Through Engagement Learners who had rejected formal education utilized self-talk focussed on confirming their membership of their existing communities despite challenges from institutional processes and opposition to that of the educational institution. Learners, who had achieved their educational goals, utilized self-talk that focussed on having a strong sense of themselves as empowered learners as active agents in the formal system, had tried many different ways of challenging and participating, as students, parents and as community members, but had found that to maintain their identity they felt the need to withdraw. Learners who had actively participated and negotiated their involvement used self-talk about why they should be studying and how to rationalize that involvement despite what others might say. It is not enough to be able to talk about an idea, as Gee (2004, 2007) has noted. Verbal understanding of words ‘implies an ability to explicate one’s understanding in terms of other words

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or general principles, but not necessarily an ability to apply this knowledge to actual situations while situated understanding implies being able to understand a word or concepts in relation to a specific context or situation (Gee, 2007, p. 113)’.

Degree of Student-Centred Negotiability and Learner Empowerment Learners who were empowered were, able to sustain their engagement in learning through challenges to their learning experiences and understood how the learner identities on which they drew helped to address those challenges. For many learners the successful resolution of the contradictions between local, peer, workplace and institutional education communities was related strongly to a belief that they should have a role in the education system. This did not mean being compliant. Participants described their role as being able to maintain their own integrity as a learner and community member and, for most, challenge the existing paradigm. This attitude tended to be more important in being successful than the strategy used. Supporting student identity and participation is more than teaching a range of strategies; it is about resolving the nexus of membership that includes educational institutional community membership. The learners, who had managed to continue engagement for a part of their programme, described their learner identities as related to the institution and their own community. They had been able to negotiate strategies which worked for them to actively participate. This was optimized when students were able to make strong connections to their own purpose and understanding of the world. The manner in which bonding, bridging and linking ties function in relation to education has been documented. For leaders whose communities align well with educational systems, bonding ties will support learner engagement. When there is considerable difference in the communities, and especially when people are disenfranchised, the balance of bonding and bridging ties makes a big difference in learning engagement. The role of social capital ties is related to the alignment of the educational system and the lifeworlds and identities of participants.

Alignment of Learners’ Identities with Informing Identities, i.e. Professional, Institutional, Global and Community Learner engagement challenged learners to assess and draw on their own learner identities. When those learner engagement events and everything that was experienced within them were closely aligned to and reflected by their current learner identities, learners felt comfortable. When their understanding of themselves as learners in relation to that experience reflected the consistency of their networks, learners were able to manage challenges and maintain the equilibrium of their

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learner identities without drawing on a range of resources. When the learner event challenged the learner’s current learner identity and its informing frameworks, he/she experienced discomfort and referred to his/her learner identity for support. Learners, characterized by enacted learner identities, were able to manage the range of community-based identities with which they were associated or have rejected membership as they created and negotiated their changing learner identities. This alignment of membership was complex and difficult, but it was managed by students so they could face challenges, complexity and take risks. The project of developing, maintaining and enhancing learner identity was an ongoing project that redefined and challenged each participant’s educational experience. People could articulate their own relationship to other identities and act on it.

Social and Learning Partnerships Social partnerships catalyse and enable change in human or social policy (European Union, 2005). In regional areas, the need for partnerships which incorporate local communities as stakeholders and learning which focuses on the identities and workplaces that exist or are developing is essential to share limited resources and embed learning in socially relevant contexts. Billett, Clemans, and Seddon (2005, p. 7) have identified three types of social partnerships: • enacted partnerships, which were initiated by external agencies, but whose goals are of relevance to, or are shared by, the community, • community partnerships, which originated in the community to address local concerns, but worked with external agencies to secure adequate resources and support for dealing with identified problems and issues, and • negotiated partnerships, which were formed between partners with reciprocal goals to secure a service or support, and required negotiation between various interests and agendas. Effective partnership work embraces and harnesses the contributions of local partners and external agencies, their interactions and the changes they make in the collective work of realizing shared goals. The processes of working together allow communities to identify and represent their needs and secure quality partners and partnership arrangements that will enable them to achieve their objectives and for government and other agencies to support those goals (Billet et al., 2005, p. 24). Through understanding learning as a social activity framed through relationships or partnership, organizational barriers can be understood. By incorporating learning partnerships into the workplace or classroom through active involvement in learning communities, the possibility of improving learning engagement is increased. This could be by providing catalysts, support for action and effective feedback about outcomes. Effective processes need to group individuals’ areas of interest, ensuring sufficient access to resources, change management, evidence-based practice and

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celebration of success. Learning partnerships concentrate on providing valuable and transformative learning opportunities to create new knowledge, understanding and solutions to problems in the group, rather than the transmission of knowledge and skills (Smith & Blake, 2005).

Social Partnerships in Learning and Learner Identities Social partnerships in learning are the interagency and interdisciplinary relationships that enable effective learning in different disciplines, workplaces and training sites. These relationships attempt to work across diverse knowledge systems and governance structures. The different knowledge systems, groups or institutions that attempt to work together can often be characterized as a ‘system of systems’ as described by Norman and Kuras (2004). They note systems of systems are not designed, rather they are opportunistic interactions amongst existing or previously planned systems. By focusing on systems and their interactions, any consideration of learning systems can focus on addressing systemic failure, rather than deficit notions of learning and learners, and the influences on learners that are invisible to educational institutions. The concept of social partnerships in learning aims to describe the ways people and social institutions interact with the diverse knowledge systems on which they draw. Social partnerships in learning do not describe what stakeholders should be; it rather they help explain what actually happens when people, institutions and knowledge systems engage or choose to reject engagement. Social partnerships in learning describe the attributes of the relationships that operate across various networks across the vertical and horizontal levels, knowledge systems and disciplines that enable effective learning in different disciplines, workplaces and training sites. Social partnerships in learning frameworks can examine these diverse knowledge systems, develop capacity-building processes and understand the underlying relationships that facilitate connections, engagement and decision making between government, non-government, enterprise, community, stakeholders and individuals. Social partnerships in learning frameworks describe the interactions that operate at and across all levels i.e. involving individuals, organizations and learning systems. They can be used to redefine learning relationships and develop models of learning that support the re-engagement of disenfranchised learners. They are particularly useful in understanding how people work to manage change, conflict, complexity, social influences and lack of connection. Understanding social partnerships in learning provides a framework to establish and explore learner identities, co-production of knowledge, representations of ideas, the contexts within which they exist and the rules that govern their use. This framework is used to discuss ideas from a range of perspectives and to appreciate others’ view as valid, formally and informally. The range of perspectives that coexist can be examined and understood, rather than externally proscribed processes operating to reinforce the dominant view, at the expense of responding to local and systemic requirements. This recognizes the need to create space for learners to resolve the

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nexus of their membership in different learner identities: as a student in an unknown field, a mentor in the workplace, a member of a regional community and a global professional body. A framework then provides a series of threads to move between ideas and their connections, as the learner deems important, rather than following the preset and approved learning acquisition route. Developing innovative and successful approaches to learning with disenfranchised learners necessitates effective partnerships and approaches that recognize diverse knowledge systems and learner identities as they relate to the worlds of work, community engagement and learning. Social partnerships in learning frameworks provide a model for understanding the gap between multiscalar, multidisciplinary and multicultural knowledge systems. Utilizing a ‘social partnerships in learning’ model in education that explicitly promotes understanding the links and disconnects across systems provides ways to explore and experiment with different learner identities and knowledge systems with safety. In this model, different forms of knowledge are part of a rich tapestry where knowledge is valued within its context and for a purpose. Learners and teachers are involved in co-production of knowledge that references their experience and makes links to other forms of knowledge. Social partnerships in learning then have a role in developing enacted learner identities and re-engaging regional learners in formal education that meets their purposes. The reality of social partnerships in learning may be the reproduction of inequities in society. Understanding the impact of those elements involved in community and institutional interactions supports the analysis of the development of enacted learners’ identities and impacts on participation in any educational system. The normative impact of a group may not have an ideal outcome from a state-based perspective or that of an educational institution i.e. high levels of participation in a skills shortage related course or commitment to supporting an existing view of industry development, such as supporting mass tourism or cultural tourism. Rather, social partnerships in learning provides a framework to understand the influences and identities that operate in educational (or other) contexts. Using the concepts and elements of a social partnerships in learning framework can help build an understanding of ways educators and systems can develop flexible and porous boundaries that impact on exclusion or inclusion, recognize the diverse knowledge systems that operate and more importantly understand their interactions, ability to make powerful connections and alliances between groups and knowledge. This does not mean everyone agrees or that all partnerships have positive social outcomes but that stakeholders, particularly disenfranchised stakeholders, understand how and why the partnerships operate and are able to work in complex environments, recognize and name the disempowering process and can manage adversity. Importantly while educational institutions are good at acquiring and developing new knowledge, there is a need to do better at connecting this to lifelong approaches to learning and local contexts. A connected approach to learning assists in understanding and negotiating ways to work through difficulty, take advantage of opportunities, manage change in capacity-poor environments and build sustainability and formalize flexible partnerships.

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Implications for Provision of Adult Education and Support Provision Learning transcends classrooms and workplaces, it is a ‘continuous, cultural process – not simply a series of events (. . .) organizational learning is as much about what happens outside formal learning programmes as it is about the programmes themselves’ (Rosenberg, 2001). Developing innovative and successful approaches to formal education necessitates effective partnership and the recognition of diverse knowledge systems and identities as they relate to the worlds of work, community engagement and learning. Learning sites are not value-free, for example as Billett (2001, p. 7) notes workplaces as learning sites ‘are contested terrain’ (p. 7) evident in relationships between employees and management and bonds based on age, gender, ethnicity, affiliation and bases for employment. It recognizes the learning context and content references that inform an individual’s participation in formal learning. Developing innovative and successful approaches to education with disenfranchised individuals necessitates effective partnerships and the recognition of diverse knowledge systems and identities as they relate to the worlds of work, community engagement and learning. A training partnership recognizes, and is informed by the learning context and content references that inform individual’s participation in formal learning and the connections to other knowledge and skills sets. In order to look closely at the reasons for this disenfranchisement and to look at possible strategies to overcome it, it is necessary to develop learning profiles of adults with particular emphasis on understanding the collective work of realizing shared goal(s) (Seddon & Billett, 2004). Educational systems that work in partnerships with different knowledge systems and identities have the potential to renegotiate adult education so that it is able to align with workforce and regional community and individuals’ outcomes. What could this mean for learners, particularly disenfranchised learners? Learning concepts and pedagogies are linked to the students’ perceptual frameworks. There is a space in which to explore ideas and their connections to learners’ identities, the learners’ previous experience is not only valued but also informs the learning process formally. It may be more appropriate to start learning from experience and link to a range of other experiences before considering the theoretical frameworks that help in articulating and discussing this experience. A range of learner identities are recognized as valid. Individuals may adopt, explore and reject these at any time and repeatedly. This is part of the learning process and classes may have to change direction, stop for a time or provide a range of options which are more different from each other than just to topic or context. The inter-agency, institutional, personal and community relationships are overtly recognized and discussed as part of growing understanding about the world. These are complex and difficult and, rather than seeking resolution, provide a rich source of understanding of what is happening, why and how it may evolve.

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Social partnerships in learning frameworks recognize the participants’ learner identities, knowledge and the impact of participation and process on outcomes. Importantly this framework understands that the attraction of being part of one or more communities is strong. This is as strong for academics and educational institutions as it is for learners. Social partnerships in learning frameworks can be used to extend the identities of institutions to focus on engagement and partnership, and to ensure processes support and do not detract from learners’ sense of agency and belonging. In this model, learners, particularly disenfranchised learners, have a chance to explore ideas, practise articulating their ideas and have the space to change their position completely and regularly. By developing a sense of self as a competent learner who has agency and has an impact on the learning context and content, learners have the chance to become the centre of their learning experience and be able to negotiate with a range of learning institutions. Learning starts from learners and encourages formal customization of the curriculum, as a way to include and represent diversity, multiple identities, continually negotiated nexus of membership and multiliteracies. Activities have strong elements that reflect students’ strengths such as oracy, spatial relations, visual representations, regional contexts and communities. Learner identities are a work in progress; they change and develop through social interaction, relationships and experience. Learners need the opportunity to explore other identities and the associated knowledge systems, their content, contexts and insider perspectives. Learners with empowered identities may not necessarily be confident of their position in relation to formal education but know they have the resources and sense of self-efficacy as a learner to manage challenges as they occur. They can undertake the complex tasks involved in balancing the learner identity and membership of their informing communities. Learners’ activities that support learners help to build their learner identity resources and sense of efficacy. This could be achieved through a range of strategies that focus around the co-production of knowledge where there are low penalties for non-conformity and co-production is valued. These might include • Making the underlying social structures and knowledge processes of formal educational institutions explicit and connecting people to those structures and processes. For example, showing that people are involved in knowledge work in their communities and so are those in educational institutions, and that each has its own language, codes and ways of protecting its power base and intellectual property. • Providing opportunities to experiment with a range of identities and reflect on what this might mean for their existing identities. This involves the provision of opportunities to explore new contexts using their own content. Examples would be making talking books in learners’ own language, and using imagery and concepts drawn from their own community. New identities could be tested by publishing and presenting the talking books to an audience primarily respected by the learners.

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• Co-production of knowledge that accesses the existing knowledge and links to other forms of knowledge through the co-creation of a new way of understanding a content or context. An example is the partnership of traditional owners of the relevant country and the park ranger for that region negotiating appropriate and accurate ways of describing and classifying the flora and fauna of a region that are informative and meet both their expectations. • Normalize empowered identities in difficult situations. This could be achieved by analysing a position within a community that appears unreachable, for example becoming a police officer in a community of people who have historically had poor relationships with the police. Another example is establishing a mentoring group for learners undertaking traineeships in mainstream organizations where they can talk about their experiences and reflect on why they happen and how to manage them with senior successful disenfranchised mentors. Importantly learners have the opportunity to examine the reasons that institutional discrimination occurs and what that means for them and their identity. • Approaches to training that start by recognizing the learners’ strengths and skills as the starting and reference point for learning. • Learning experiences that support people to practise and articulate an explanation of risk-taking/engagement to a range of audiences, including themselves. Allow the opportunity to explore knowledge systems as active participants who can interact.

The Implications for Adult Education Institutions The research discussed in this chapter shows the value of considering learners’ identities in addressing engagement of disenfranchised learners which reinforces Field’s view of the role of educational systems and policies. Field (2005, p. 155) challenges educators to consider the development of ‘policies and practices that will build trust and reciprocity, and help people to reconstruct forms of community that are appropriate to a reflexive, networked world’. In this view of education it is important to ensure educational policy and practise work to empower and support the engagement of disenfranchised learners until institutional structures, processes and identities change. The informal education system functions well for regional learners. The challenge is for established educational institutions to recognize these systems and identities and subsequently adapt to incorporate the best aspects of these practices. Some of the important elements of the relationships and expertise in regional networks and workplace systems can be recognized and incorporated into the formal education system to benefit many marginalized regional learners. One facet is the role learning communities’ members undertake as non-accredited facilitators and assessors. These people have a wealth of knowledge and experience in their content area and in training people in their area. They are accepted as understanding the norms of the community and the context in which people will be working. Formal

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education institutions could form partnerships with local expertise to offer local workplace-based accredited assessment. This is an opportunity to develop a shared understanding about the role of learning and connections between formal and informal learning. This process is premised on affirming regional people’s identity as capable, and keeps the focus on negotiating education systems and practices rather than negotiating identity and learning deficits. In addition, local regional experts and accredited trainers can develop strong partnerships that broker the learning experience, content and qualification. Educational systems managers that establish effective engagement models with regional community, industry and government stakeholders understand the key drivers for stakeholders’ engagement and are able to work across knowledge systems in their relevant contexts. Innovative approaches to education are based on relationships through locally based action for shared benefit. While this has been the goal for educational institutions and policy for a long time, the missing element has been an understanding of the multidisciplinary and multiscalar relationships that underpin information exchange and shared engagement in universities processes and outcomes. These are described here as social partnerships in learning. Teachers engage as active participants in learning and guides to support learners to make connections and practise articulating their own ideas in relation to others. Teachers facilitate and support disenfranchised learners to develop an empowered identity as a learner. Co-trainers and assessors could be based in communities with which learners identify. Their expert knowledge of context and content can assist in deepening knowledge of a particular practice and support rigorous assessment of outcomes in situ. This approach might best be exemplified in video gaming where as Gee (2003) notes, learners direct their learning. Learners are able to repeat parts as often as they choose, learning has consequences that are personal to the learner, learning is linked to a range of global and local communities and experimentation is encouraged, learning is highly customized and responsive and has inherent rewards. In this way learners are engaged in their own learning, act as co-producers of knowledge, build connections to their identities, and to their own and others’ knowledge and skills, as they see fit and when they are ready.

Conclusion Situated learning theories allow an understanding of the social nature of learning, that learning is negotiated in relation to place, time and context. The ways that people negotiate and make decisions about engagement in formal education is connected to their learner identity: the ways that learners understand themselves in relation to place, time, context and others. Being able to describe, articulate and engage with learner identities supports an understanding of individuals’ decisionmaking processes, the basis on which partnerships operate around learning and provision of adult education for disenfranchised learners.

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Social partnerships in learning describe the attributes of the relationships that operate across various networks: across the vertical and horizontal levels, knowledge systems and disciplines that enable effective learning in different disciplines, workplaces and training sites. Social partnerships in learning recognize the shifting, conflicted and multiple learner identities that operate in any learning relationship and seek to provide a framework to negotiate those interactions, explore different identities and co-create new possibilities in learning. Understanding social partnerships in learning provides frameworks to establish and explore learner identities, co-production of knowledge, representations of ideas, the contexts within which they exist and the rules that govern their use. These frameworks are used to discuss ideas from a range of perspectives and to appreciate others’ views as valid. The institutional view is not necessarily the only valid one and a range of perspectives can coexist to be examined and understood, rather than reinforcing the dominant view. This allows a space for learners to resolve the nexus of their membership in different learner identities: as a student in an unknown field, a mentor in the workplace, a member of a regional community and a global professional body. A framework then provides a series of threads to move between ideas and their connections, as the learner deems important, rather than following the preset and approved learning acquisition route. Processes and structures that engage learners, engage learner identities as a work in progress, a negotiation of self as we all relate to our various worlds of work, leisure, region, knowledge, formal and informal learning. In this way, learners include participants, teachers, institutional systems who interact to try and balance sense of self, understanding of what is good for self and others, and perceptions of change as negotiating a range of identities.

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Wallace, R. (2008a). Reluctant learners: Their identities and educational experiences. Adelaide: NCVER. Wallace, R. (2008b). Social partnerships in learning: Understanding the identities of disenfranchised regional learners. The fifteenth international conference on learning, University of Illinois, Chicago, USA, June 3–6, 2008. Wallace, R., & Turnbull, B. (2005). Professional learning in isolation: Developing learning networks of health professionals in regional and remote northern Australia. Proceedings of the 13th annual international conference on post-compulsory education and training, Gold Coast. Wenger, E. (1998). Communities of practice learning, meaning and identity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Woolcock, M. (2001). The place of social capital in understanding social and economic outcomes. ISUMA: Canadian Journal of Policy Research, 2(1), 11–17.

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Chapter 3

Where ‘The TVET System’ Meets the Performativity of Vocational Learning: Borderlands of Innovation and Future Directions Ian Falk and Kaler Surata

Introduction This chapter originated with a sole author. Its intent was to highlight aspects of the western TVET1 system by contrasting it with an Indonesian case. Midway through, a Balinese academic joined as co-author, and this influenced the thinking and style of the chapter. Using a ‘cross-cultural example’ to highlight aspects of the western system may create an expectation of otherness in the comparator country. Once that country is represented in the authorship, a range of issues and assumptions in the writing and content are thrown into sharp relief. The resulting chapter probably still reflects some of the difficulties of our attempts to blend ideas and authorship while struggling to maintain a ‘comparison’ between Indonesia and Australia that avoids being judgemental.

How the Chapter Was Conceived The chapter was initiated by the first-named author, an Australian by birth, in an attempt to focus on some aspects of the set of assumptions, structures and processes we refer to in our various countries as the TVET system. These aspects had caused unease over an extended period of time, and had driven strands of research about vocational learning in relation to (a) (b) (c) (d)

communities (e.g. Falk & Kilpatrick, 1999); social capital (e.g. Falk & Kilpatrick, 2000); Australian Indigenous cultural settings (Kral & Falk, 2003); workplaces (e.g. Falk, 2006);

1 I recognize that the acronym may vary across countries and jurisdictions, including VTET to TVE and others.

I. Falk (B) School of Education, Charles Darwin University, Darwin, NT 0909, Australia e-mail: [email protected] R. Catts et al. (eds.), Vocational Learning, Technical and Vocational Education and Training: Issues, Concerns and Prospects 14, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-1539-4_3,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2011

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communities of practice (e.g. Falk, 1998; Guenther & Falk, 2006); post-compulsory sectors (e.g. Falk, 1998; Guenther, Falk, & Arnott, 2006); adult literacy (e.g. Falk & Guenther, 2002; Falk & Millar, 2001); and outcomes of adult learning and literacy in relation to socio-economic well-being and social capital (e.g. Balatti & Falk, 2002; Balatti, Black, & Falk, 2006a, 2006b).

In each strand, as can now be better viewed with the benefit of hindsight, the research has been exploring the role of vocational learning in these different sectors and fields, and asking the question, ‘how does this relate to the beast we call “The TVET System”, and what does this mean for the role of this system?’ Unease developed from the perception of a recurrent mismatch in the expressed purposes of the system and how it interacts with its fields of applied activity. In each case the mismatch is between two activities: the rhetoric of the system discourses and policies, and the reality of what actually happens when the ‘rubber hits the road’. The mismatch has the disquieting side effect, to be further tested in this chapter, that the TVET system seems to put the majority of its resources into things the system defines as ‘industry’2 sectors, yet continues to under-resource those arguably most in need of vocational learning support – the ‘have-nots’. The have-nots stand out as being small business, adult and community education, including adult literacy, numeracy and language. There are two sides here and they don’t seem to fit together. Sets of dislocations in communicative interactivity are formalized in the research literature through the idea of ‘interactive trouble’ (Freebody et al., 1995; Doherty, 2005) based on ethnomethodology’s well-established principles (e.g. Heritage, 1984). This chapter was conceived, then, through coming at the unease from a different angle in an attempt to crystallize the issues that concerned the first author about the disjuncture between ‘The TVET System’ and the various situated activities and vocational performativities that, at the grassroots level, actually constitute ‘The TVET System’. The different angle is the above one of ‘interactive trouble’, recognizing that ‘trouble’ can have positive as well as negative consequences and implications. That is, while there may be disjunctures, it is the field of interaction that is important, as this borderland is precisely where risks are taken to meet new situations and challenges, and where innovations begin and flourish (Surowiecki, 2004). The interactive borderland is the ecotone (e.g. Colinvaux, 1986), or region where two ecologies meet – more later. In short, the original idea was to attempt to illustrate some key issues for the future of any TVET System through looking at the borderland or ecotone where two ecologies meet: on the one hand there is the ecology of performed vocational learning as observed by the first author in another country with a radically different culture from Australia (or the UK or the USA and 2 Of course the cultural and economic determinants of what is counted as an ‘industry’ and why is one of the issues this chapter takes up. It does this by recasting the main influences on economic productivity and success. Instead of assuming Western notions of ‘industry’ types, we seek to directly problematize this through redefining culture and religion as ‘industry/ies’.

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so on), and on the other hand there is the ecology of ‘The TVET System’ as performed in both countries – accreditation, policy and structures – and how it does or does not interact with these performed activities. So the initial assumptions underlying the chapter were as seen through the lens of a westerner keen to portray another culture’s differences about learning and ‘vocations’ in order to make a series of points to other westerners about the western TVET system. In the final analysis, the language and style of the chapter remain that of the first author, but the content and ideas are strongly influenced by the discussions and input of the second author.

About the ‘Other’ Country The country in question is Indonesia, and we use the specific case of Bali within this country. We overview the kinds of literature one expects to see in such a case. Then by specific reference to Bali, we show how the island province’s vocational structures are underpinned by various ‘industries’ and various forms of vocational learning, all nailed – then cemented – in place by ‘the culture’. The key operational dynamic underlying ‘the cultural identity’ is rice, along with the networks formed around the subaks and water temples. Subaks and water temples form part of the cooperative organization for managing the irrigation of rice paddies. A subak is the local organization which manages a collection of sawahs (rice terraces) with interlinked irrigation and drainage systems. In Bali, we argue, ‘the cultural identity’ is the focal point – we use the word ‘industry’ to highlight the issue of what counts as an industry – around which all vocations and vocational learning revolve, and vocational learning is epitomized by a unique self-learning set of networks around the rice temple nodes. This set of learning networks provides us with a clue as to the generic essence of vocational (or any other) learning. There are two points we would like to stress here about the adoption of the interactive trouble stance, and talking of how the top-down and bottom-up layers do or do not interact. The first is that we are not being ‘critical’ (in the sense of picking faults) of the ‘top-down’ layer of policy. All countries have to have national policies. All countries lie in international contexts where global communication is relatively instant. All countries must have ways of addressing and accounting for the ways they perform as a nation, versus what happens at the grassroots level. So if it appears as if we are being ‘critical’ of the top-down component, it is only in the interests of providing a lens through which effectiveness of those policies can be better focused. Such a lens has the potential to improve outcomes for policy and for practice. The second point we would like to stress is that the ‘bottom-up’ or grassroots level, whether that comprises practitioners or researchers, is often critical of those we call ‘top-down’. Practitioners and researchers alike often shun policy as being too ‘imposed’, too top-down, too remote from ‘what really matters’, which is ‘getting things done’. This stance can be counterproductive in the zone of interaction between these sectors, as resulting antagonisms can lead to lack of trust and impede the quality of working relationships and subsequently of policy effectiveness. Policy

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and practice working together in the zone of interactivity have been shown to produce innovative solutions and sustainable outcomes (Falk, Guenther, Lambert, & Johnstone, 2006; Wallace & Falk, 2006) where there was little chance of this happening before. A focus on a particular ‘case’ or country can therefore be deceiving in that readers may see it as somehow negative, judgemental or fault-finding with either the top-down or bottom-up sectors.

Indonesian TVET System, Balinese Vocational Performativity, Interactivity and Learning Ecologies Indonesia and the TVET System The big picture is the country of Indonesia, with a population of more than 200 million people and well over 13,000 islands. After periods of colonization by the Netherlands and the Japanese, these various islands and cultures became Indonesia, a single independent nation recognized as such by the United Nations in 1950. It is also the world’s most populous Muslim-majority nation. In terms of the TVET system, we find that most of the English language based literature available to western researchers takes a comparative slant, operating on the assumption that this Asian country, like many others, is a third world, and therefore an undeveloped country – a ‘developing country’ – and hasn’t yet ‘got TVET’, but, so the literature argues, it should. This reflects the problem with the ‘development’ issue, one that we return to later in our discussion of the case of the Green Revolution. Alto, Isaac, Knight, and Polestico (2000) provide one example: Indonesia does not as yet have an integrated national policy for TVET. However, the recent Taskforce Report on the Development of Vocational Education and Training in Indonesia – Skills Toward 2020 (Ministry of Education and Culture, 1995) is a major step towards the development of a clear national policy (p. 227).

While we recognize that ‘national policy’ is a different issue from what happens on the ground, it is these comparative discussions about the top-down sector that position the bottom-up as somehow inadequate, lacking or simply absent. Alto et al. (2000) go on to describe TVET with the assumption that the TVET system is all there is to TVET: Vocational and technical education and training for young people may begin at the end of lower secondary education or after completion of upper secondary, depending on the course being undertaken. Increasingly, however, vocational and technical education and training is undertaken concurrently with secondary education or is being integrated into secondary school curricula. Indonesia is a country where this trend is particularly evident, with the bulk of vocational and technical education and training delivered in secondary schools (p. 226).

After secondary school, options for formal TVET are pursued (by the few who can access the enrolment places because of shortages of places or capacity to pay the required fees) through a range of institutions, including Universitas (Universities), Institut (Institutes), Akademi (Academies) and Polteknik (Polytechnics) (IAU

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World Higher Education Database, 2006). However, it should be noted that in Indonesia, around 80 per cent of the educational institutions are private. This proportion is a little deceptive in some respects, since the public system does finance a great deal of resources for private institutions, including some staff salaries. The large degree of privatization results in the necessity for fees to be levied, and this in turn causes issues around access to, for example, higher education. The following quote serves to remind us of the impact of fees on enrolments: Currently, the higher education system in Indonesia comprises close to 2,600 higher education institutions including 82 public institutions (Djanali, 2005). However, inequity in access to higher education by region and income level is evident. The enrolment rate in rural areas is less than half of that in urban areas. Enrolment in higher education among the low-income population is only 2 per cent of that among the high-income population. The enrolment rate in rural areas is less than half of that in urban areas. Enrolment in higher education among the low-income population is only 20 per cent of that among the high-income population (CIA, 2011).

Enrolment in any kind of higher education draws from a low demographic base – not as many students get to secondary levels, and fewer to higher education, so from here the notion of a cohesive overall ‘system’ becomes problematic. In the following quote, the case is of graduate entry to the workforce: Although senior secondary technical/vocational education schools were seen as providing a steady stream of skilled workers for the Indonesian workforce, it has been found that only about 20% of graduates proceed to employment (Djojonegoro, 1994, p. 16).

It seems that things can get even murkier: . . . by 1994 only about 22% of the workforce had participated in schooling beyond primary level. Clearly the ability of the Indonesian economy to advance in a number of sectors is restrained by human resources. Technical and vocational education is under significant pressure to improve the relevance of courses (Djojonegoro, 1994, p. 2).

A further assumption here is that if one does not go on with school, then vocational learning or work is not really a consideration. So when we read material like the above, we would be tempted to assume that there’s not much in the way of a ‘system’, and that the system does not assist many people at all. A further note on the deceptively simple and elusive line, ‘Technical and vocational education is under significant pressure to improve the relevance of courses’: What does this mean? Relevance to whom? Would relevance enhance the capacity of people to pay for courses? How would ‘relevance’ improve a situation where only 20 per cent of graduates proceed to employment? Who is applying this pressure? How is it being applied? How come, if only 20 per cent proceed to employment, the country still has a remarkably low unemployment rate of around 10 per cent? While the westerner’s approach to statistical overviews might be eroded by the availability of figures to crunch, perhaps national statistics do not help understand the reality of the local situations of vocational learning, and perhaps the relationship between the two – the system and the local – could explain why there are these inconsistencies. Let’s see.

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Bali and the Balinese Vocational Performativity To mention vocational performativity first, we build on Butler’s (1999) understanding of the ‘performativity’ of our identities. Butler’s theories sustain a view of social reality that is not a given but is continually created at the local and situated level of social activity ‘. . . through language, gesture, and all manner of symbolic social sign’ (Butler, 1999, p. 270). Such a theory promotes some clarity when we come to consider the ways in which the TVET system might interact with local and situated performed vocational identities, and how these might more productively ‘rub together’ for local and national outcomes. The case of Balinese vocational performativity, with its complexities and integrated links to the socio-economic and cultural life is only that: a case. It is intended to show how vocational identity, performed as integrated socio-cultural and economic activity, can help us understand how these factors can be considered in any country as a means of improving TVET outcomes. As one of Indonesia’s innumerable islands, Bali provides the case – the small picture for this chapter. Bali is, of course, the well-known tropical ‘tourist destination’ that has been in the international media for negative reasons of terrorist attacks in the last few years. The population of Bali is 3,151,000 (in 2005) and has an area of 5663 km2 – which is 1/43rd of the size of the UK including Northern Ireland, 1/5th the size of the US State of Massachusetts and 1/12th the size of Tasmania (for an Australian comparison). Unlike the remainder of Indonesia, 92 per cent of the Balinese people adhere to Hinduism (Indahnesia.com, 2007) inflected by Bali’s indigenous Austronesian animism and other Asian heritages. In other words, Balinese Hinduism survives and thrives as the supremely dominant religion of a tiny island in the fourth most populous country of the world and most populous Muslim country of the world. In addition to what we might see as the complexities of the above cultural anomalies, we can add the linguistic component – Balinese languages (note the plural) as well as Bahasa Indonesian (the national language) are the most widely spoken, and pretty much the whole of the population of Bali speaks these. There are several original Balinese languages, traditionally determined by the Balinese caste system and by family membership. Outside observers might judge that, with the advent of colonialism and its latest manifestations – tourism and the (largely) western media – the caste system and other forms of traditional social and cultural life are on the wane. If there appears to be a western veneer overlaid on the cities, one doesn’t need to go far from the more westernized southern coastal strip to find that tradition is still embedded deeply in village performed life. It is the degree of this ‘embedding’, and the ways in which these embedded social structures interact with forms of learning – instanced by vocational learning – that is the interest and focus of this chapter. In terms of the standard western researcher way of approaching TVET needs, we would look at the island’s key industry and employment sectors, remembering that the statistics tell us that Indonesia enjoys a relatively low unemployment rate of around about 10 per cent (FactMonster, 2006; Jakarta Post, 2006). Tourism took over from agriculture as the dominant ‘industry’ back in the 1970s. Most jobs

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(but what could this mean in the context of a 10 per cent unemployment rate?) are found in the southern part of Bali, in the hotel and tourist industry, in the textile and garment industry and in many small-scale home industries producing handicrafts and souvenirs. Bali attracts by far the most tourist attention in Indonesia, drawing in more than one and a half million foreign visitors every year, plus around a million domestic tourists. Official information on Bali specifically, as opposed to Indonesia in general, is difficult to find. Among those sources are the websites aiming to provide background information for tourists and others. One of these suggests that garments, textiles and handicrafts have become ‘the backbone’ of Bali’s economy providing 400,000 jobs and exports have been increasing by around 10 per cent per year to US$350 million in 1999 (‘Bali Vacation Villas’, 2006). There are, then, a variety of views as to what comprises key industry sectors. In some sources it is garments and their ilk that are the ‘backbone’, in others, tourism is the backbone, and agriculture is of course always noted as being up with the top few. Agriculture is found in the literature to be the second most significant industry since the 1970s. Rice is the main agriculture product, and it is usual to grow two or more irrigated rice crops per year. Other crops are tea and Balinese coffee, cacao, vanilla, soya beans, chillies, cloves, fruits and vegetables. However, beneath these fairly bland and standard descriptions there is an undercurrent that surfaces when one looks closely at some of the research, instanced here by Pringle (2004): Bali’s cultural appeal was of critical importance because it led in time to the development of tourism, which has today overshadowed agriculture as the island’s most important economic activity (p. 13).

And it is at this point that ‘what-counts-as-an-industry’ becomes vital. So far the literature has used quite traditional western categories of industries – tourism, agriculture and so on. Note the first sentence above where ‘cultural appeal’ is of ‘critical importance’ because it led to the rise of tourism. So ‘culture’ only has an ‘appeal’ (it is not one of those really important ‘industries’), which in turn is ‘critical’ to the rise of ‘tourism’, which is the main ‘industry’, and therefore extremely important and deemed to have a higher value in something called ‘the economy’. On looking more closely, the ‘cultural appeal’ is actually the particular form of Hinduism referred to earlier, made visible wherever one goes and at all times of the day through the ceremonial life and ‘decorative offerings’ that appear as if from nowhere on walkways, steps, shelves, temples, shrines, walls, gardens, furniture – and in all parts of dwellings. Here is the text from a typical tourist information website: The temple is the most important institution on Bali and the centre of religious activities and there are at least 50,000 scattered over the island. They are everywhere – houses, marketplaces, cemeteries, rice paddies, beaches, inside caves, within tangled roots of Banyan trees etc (Bali Vacation Villas, 2006).

Understanding now that ‘the culture’ is code for ‘the religion’ or perhaps ‘the performed religious life’, and that this is to a great degree what draws the tourists, let us remind ourselves of the way we look at countries through our western lenses. These lenses seem always tinted by shades of economics, employment statistics and

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‘industry’ rhetoric, so we might miss a highly significant point about the religion in Bali that is at the core of all these other ‘industries’: that the religion itself could be viewed as a large – perhaps the largest – industry of all. With no intention of disrespect for religions everywhere, let us now assume that the ‘key industry’ here is the religion of Hinduism as performed in Bali. What does it do to the top-down order to think in this new way? What does it tell us about the nature of vocations and the training and learning required for them? The following works through this possibility. The ‘religious economy’ of Bali permeates every aspect of business from the markets where religious offerings are bought and sold, to the ways in which money is paid for all aspects of ceremonial and religious life, to the timing and ways that buildings may or may not be built, indeed to the building code itself. This ‘industry’ employs myriads of people in hundreds of different roles, from small business operators to the priests themselves who receive a fee for performing ceremonies. There is a cost for each small and large ceremony that must occur in all these aspects of everyone’s daily life. There is the cost of flowers and food for offerings, and other contributions for religious services. These religious market forces are not optional. Everyone pays, and for every occasion, from the rites of being born, the stages of building a new building, for entering a new stage of life, for celebrating various aspects of one’s ancestors through the daily home-temple ceremonies, to the large costs for cremations of relatives. The religious economy is not just an interesting ‘cultural’ feature of Bali, therefore. It is central to the vocational learning and life now described, around the agricultural practices of the rice paddy irrigation system. Rice Paddy Irrigation Systems and Subak Organization We have so far mentioned subaks and sawahs, but what are Balinese subaks and the social capital mechanisms that hold them in place? Balinese rice terrace irrigation systems are regarded as unique in the world for their scope and interconnectedness. A subak is the local organization which manages a collection of sawahs (rice terraces) with interlinked irrigation and drainage systems, forming ecological systems that cover the majority of the small island from high in the mountains to the coastline. All owners of rice paddies belong to the local subak. There are many – perhaps between 10 and 20 – subaks in even one region of Bali, and they are all interlinked organizationally, spiritually, economically and infrastructurally through irrigation and the networks that manage the irrigation. Each collection of 10–20 or more subaks has an organizational focal point of a water temple, epitomizing the integration of the spiritual basis of the village with its economic, vocational, cultural and social bases. Of course each subak, in itself a network of inter-related sawahs, is also linked with all the other subaks in the same water catchment area. There may be around 100–300 subaks in one catchment area, and all form a complex, inter-related, flexible network that in reality integrates the socio-cultural, spiritual, economic, vocational, village and family life of Balinese society.

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Lansing (2006) describes some of the features of these networks that develop and respond to such complex situations: ‘The ability to shift the scale . . . is what gives . . . networks their ability to manage the ecology. With that ability the . . . networks become flexible problem solvers . . ..[Moreover] adaptive systems do . . . not focus on optimizing one solution, but rather on improving the features of the system that enable it to learn and adapt . . .’ (p. 15). That is, there is empirical support from a number of research areas for shifting our gaze from the individual entity to the manner in which the entities interact with each other in search of social, economic, environmental and cultural ecological stability. (In our research we have not overlooked the potential for any ecology to lock in not only the ‘good’ things, but also structural inequalities such as gender and class, however this is not the chapter for such a discussion). The integration of the cultural, spiritual and social with the vocational and economic life of the community is completed through the use of rice as the staple food, in religious and ceremonial offerings, for decoration of objects and bodies, for trade in the many local markets and street stalls selling food (warungs) through which the vocational and economic life of the community is enacted. The very act of dividing this discussion and paper into subsections labelled ‘subaks’, ‘spirituality’, ‘economic’ and ‘gender’, for example, is partially a western artefact, as the degree of interdependence and interaction is so high as to render separation of elements meaningless in the context of their performance. The divisions between ‘work’, ‘leisure time’, ‘religious observance’, ‘family activities’ and the rest can be seen more clearly as the main lens used by western observers to categorize things as they struggle to make sense of how life unfolds in their own and others’ countries. And, as the next section shows, it was through western science and management eyes that modernizers in the mid nineteen hundreds saw the potential in Bali (among other countries), for economics, science and technology to create an additional source of food and money for the local people.

The Green Revolution of the 1970s: Top-Down Meets Bottom-Up The Green Revolution was a development phenomenon of the mid-1900s, spearheaded by a new wave of well-intended colonialism – this time related to industrial colonization. The Green Revolution was the transformation of agriculture in many developing nations that led to significant increases in cereal production between the 1940s and 1960s. The transformation occurred as the result of programmes of agricultural research, extension and infrastructural development largely funded by the Rockefeller Foundation, the Ford Foundation and national governments. The term ‘Green Revolution’ was first used by former USAID director William Gaud in 1968 who stated that ‘[The rapid spread of modern wheat and rice varieties throughout Asia] and other developments in the field of agriculture contain the makings of a new revolution . . . I call it a Green Revolution based on the application of science and technology’ (http://en.wikipedia. org/wiki/Green_Revolution).

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Of course economics, science and technology were tools (‘application’ above) of the mentality, or ideology, of modernization and corporate colonialism, and cannot be blamed entirely for all the dire consequences that occurred in Bali. Interfering with the intricate ecology of the water temples and subak system, the engineers of the Green Revolution argued that improved crops and yields were to be achieved by use of fertilizers, pesticides and continuous cropping, circumventing the way existing floodgate controls of water flow were managed. Within a period of a couple of years, there was widespread crop loss due to pests – plagues of insects and rats. The fertilizers, unnecessary anyway due to the high concentrations of nitrogen and phosphates in Bali’s natural volcanic soils, poured into the oceans with no checks or balances, ruining marine life and reefs. Farmers themselves responded to the situation (remembering these modernization moves had caused them to enter periods of extended poverty and hunger) by subverting the system and gradually reverting back to their subak management system. Errors were finally recognized and the ‘old ways’ were tacitly allowed to resume. Now, 35 years later, the problems are not entirely resolved but are well under way. Pesticides and artificial fertilizer are still widely used, but as Lansing’s (2006) research finds The Balinese manage things from the bottom-up, by means of nested hierarchies of water temples that cooperate in setting irrigation schedules. To a planner trained in the social sciences, management by water temples looks like an arcane relic from the premodern era. But to an ecologist, the bottom-up system of control has some obvious advantages (p. 8).

There are the words ‘bottom-up’ again. In the case of the Green Revolution, the top-down strategy driven by a development ideology was seen as the panacea to all those un/under-developed countries. Indeed, this was recognized even at the time of implantation of the Green Revolution (Gladwin, 1980, p. 9; Howes, 1980, p. 341). The local vocational knowledge and processes for managing outcomes from their vocation from the bottom-up were repeatedly ignored on the grounds that the western gurus knew best. The borderland where the top-down and bottom-up met occurred ‘on the ground’ – literally – where policy met local knowledge and performativity. This zone of interactive trouble produced few positive outcomes. When the Balinese Green Revolution research is considered in full (Lansing, 2006) one is drawn to wonder how (a) the mistakes in ecological terms have been repeated in other places and times, as indeed they have been, (b) we could miss the policyto-practice – the top-down, bottom-up borderlands – implications in general, and (c) the implications and parallels for learning and especially vocational learning have been similarly overlooked. As Sepe (2000) summarises, the Green Revolution . . . became one of the most unsuccessful development projects in history whose effects are still widespread . . ..Developers, operating from an economist’s perspective, failed to recognise the culture, history, and natural agriculture of Balinese society (p. 1).

There is a body of cross-disciplinary research that shows the failure of top-down policy measures in western countries. For example, an OECD economist Hugonnier (1999) carried out research in all member countries of the OECD. It shows how all policies of the last 20 years that had been top-down failed, while all that were classified as bottom-up policies have worked. Even at the time of the Green Revolution

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there was a recognition (Hirabayashi, Warren, & Owen, 1980) that there needed to be ‘. . . active Indigenous involvement in rural development’ (p. 359), and recognized the gap between rhetoric and reality ‘. . .with the hope that the conventional rhetoric of development will . . . become conventional reality’ (p. 359). The more significant failure would be for us now to ignore once again the evidence from our example regarding top-down and bottom-up, and the learnings for learning theory and practice more generally. More of the learning implications later, but before then we move to look at some of the links between the ‘straight’ ecological model of networks and learning networks, and the existing research on learning as it connects with this field.

Interactivity, Learning Ecologies and Social Capital Much of the research on learning in the last few decades focuses directly and only on people as individuals, as if they could be abstracted and understood in isolation from their interactions with other people, their places and objects. It is these very places and objects which, in fact, make their interactions meaningful. However, the downside of the studies of people in isolation from their places and objects has enabled the top-down ‘Green Revolution’ syndrome to occur. It has enabled this by making it acceptable to focus only on humans, ignoring the field of interaction between them and their places and objects. In short, it enables an implicit endorsement of the dislocation between what happens top-down and what happens at the grassroots level. Similarly, a focus by sciences only on what happens ‘on the ground’ allows an implicit endorsement of the schism between the top-down and bottomup. Some research does, however, focus on the interactive borderlands, including ecology, ethnomethodology and some branches of learning theory. Falk and Balatti (2004) argue for these connections to be made through the existing work on ecology and ecosystems (e.g. Colinvaux, 1986). The latter describes ecology as the study of interrelationships of living organisms and their environment. An environment comprises a living thing’s surroundings, such as other plants and animals, climate, rocks and soil. The community of organisms in a particular place, together with its non-living surroundings, forms a functioning system biologists call an ecosystem. Ecosystems have flows of matter and energy and they have inputs and outputs. While the site of analysis is the ecosystem, the unit of analysis is the interrelationship. An ecological perspective on learning events does more than allow us to acknowledge that social interactions are embedded in context. It shows the interrelatedness between the various components of the ecosystem – the individual, the community, the resources and the interactions (Falk & Balatti, 2004, p. 47). Flora, Flora, and Fey (2004) make the same point. Learning, Falk and Balatti (2004) find, occurs in different situations and environments that have different ecologies of which particular institutional and organizational characteristics are only one aspect. These different learning sites and interactions can be described as ‘learning ecologies’, and they include familiar locations such as workplaces, schools, clubs, organizations and families. In each case,

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we can look at the interrelationships between the participants, resources, processes and products associated with learning without the need to abstract the humans from their interactive places and objects, a set of interdependent interactive fields and systems loosely referred to as socio-political ecology (Bates, 1997, p. 90). The kinds of resources, or inputs, needed for interactivity are grist for the mill of social capital production and use (Falk & Kilpatrick, 2000) with essential components of knowledge and identity. As summarized by Falk (2006), ‘Learning occurs when interaction occurs. Interaction occurs when people engage each other, and . . . .on telephones and emails . . . between a person and various kinds of texts, and when a person engages with the texts of their thoughts’ (p. 22). In all these interactions, it is the engagement that brings to the fore the past experiences (skills and knowledge) of the interactants. Simultaneously, these often unconscious choices from past experiences are guided by two factors: (a) facets of the interactants’ identities, and (b) expectations of future scenarios that mix with identity resources to define the experiences selected. That is, the identity-shaped selection of experiences forms the essence of learning that occurs in these engagements. The significance for this chapter of using the term ecology is enhanced by another (biologically derived) term, ‘ecotone’. Here, and perforce over simplistically, groups of similar lifeforms are conceptualized as achieving sustainable yet integrated ecology with neighbouring lifeforms at their boundaries; it is the lived work of the overlapping boundary zones, or ecotones, to respond and adapt to changes: what we might call here a zone of interactive trouble. Moreover, an ecotone is, by western scientific definitions, a ‘margin’. That is, an ecotone is the borderland area between two or more different and recognized ecologies. The distinctive feature of ecotonal life is that the ecotone supports a greater degree of life than the ecologies wherein it lies ‘at the margins’. The immediate parallel (or is it actuality?) with the Balinese subak ‘learning networks’ will here be apparent. The consequence of applying this notion to the social and learning ecology field is that ‘margins’ cease to be ‘marginal’ in a sense. The margins themselves, through the vibrancy and diversity of life, support the preponderance of human life – coastal areas as the ecotone between sea and land; foothills as the ecotones between hills and plains. ‘Learning’ – adapting to change in some cases – can be seen as the dynamics in the ecotone between the ecologies of the top-down policies or forces for change, and the situated performativity of learning networks at the grassroots level. Studies based on interactivity – the meeting place of top-down and bottom-up forces – and the related areas of learning ecologies and social capital provide a means of understanding the borderlands. The reader will have gathered that we have earlier been describing the subak system because of the issue of large-scale networks, and their interactivity involving cooperation and reciprocity necessary for the existence of an ecology among the socio-economic, physical, environmental, cultural, spiritual, community, village and family life. Now we touch on some of the key (as we see them) elements of social capital and associated identity that are ecologically locked into the systems of reciprocity, and which in turn lock in individual identity and the behaviour resulting from identity. We will look at the work

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on ties specifically, and the reciprocity bound up with them starting with the more general non-Balinese research and work towards the available research on Bali to see if the same principles hold true. First, Stone and Hughes provide a summary of the nature of the different ties as established in earlier work by, for example, Woolcock and Narayan (2000). Stone and Hughes (2001) describe the distinction between bonding, bridging and linking ties in these ways: • Bonding social capital is characterized by high levels of close, closed and densely knit networks and associated high levels of familiar/personalized trust and reciprocity. • Bridging social capital involves sparser ties with people/organizations that are diverse, or heterogenous. These types of connections relate to generalized trust, beyond trusting relationships with people who are familiar or known. • Linking ties are vertical, and involve ties with people/organizations in power/authority. These types of ties are associated with trust in governance and expert systems (Giddens, 1990; see Black & Hughes, 2001 for discussion)’ (p. 4). On examination, there is considerable looseness here: first we have ‘bonding social capital’ and ties are not mentioned. Then we have ‘bridging social capital’ with ‘sparse ties’, then finally we have ‘linking ties’ which are indeed ‘ties’. So this is the ‘established’ position on these three types of ties. However, in some Australian work, Leonard and Onyx (2003) test the work of Woolcock and Narayan (2000) that bridging and bonding are two different types of connections, whereby bridging is associated with loose ties across communities and bonding is associated with strong ties within a limited group. Leonard and Onyx’s results suggest that ‘. . . loose and strong ties are not synonymous with bridging and bonding’ (p. 225). Moreover, ‘. . .people prefer to bridge through their strong ties’ (p. 225). They find ‘. . . that a model for a high social capital society might be a chain of well-bonded groups each with strong links to some other groups’ (p. 225). The latter finding is of high relevance for this chapter on Balinese social capital, since it suggests that for high social capital, strong bonding ties need to be firmly in place, and that it is more likely to be these ‘ties’ that are in fact preferred to be used for bridging and often linking. Leonard and Onyx do not dispute the need for the different functions served by bonding and bridging, rather they suggest that these functions can be served by the same ‘ties’. There is confusion about what a ‘tie’ is, how it is the same or different from a ‘link’ and indeed how it is different from ‘social capital’ itself. Stone and Hughes’ (2001) quote above effectively equates social capital with ties through those authors’ linguistic use in the three definitions they forward. Studies of social capital in Bali itself are few and far between. These studies do, however, provide support for the Leonard and Onyx view. There are of course the extended works of Lansing spanning decades which, while not naming social capital as such, nevertheless focus on networks and network characteristics from anthropological and cross-disciplinary bases. Lansing himself refers to the use of game theory (Lansing & Miller, 2005).

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In support of the value of studying the borderlands of interactivity, Marshall, Patrick, Muktasam, and Ambarawati (2006) report on a comparative study of social capital in Lombok and Bali concerning small agricultural business micro-financing. They find that the greater success of the community systems of micro-finance delivery in Bali compared with those of Lombok lies in the nature and extent of social capital as evidenced by the nature of the reciprocity in the close bonded ties at village level: . . . the fact that community delivery in Bali was through the desa adat (traditional village) institutions and awig (traditional rules or norms) which retain a strong influence on actual behaviour, including in encouraging and enforcing loan repayments. In contrast, this community strength was not so evident in Lombok (Marshall et al., 2006, p. 19).

The significance of these tentative findings for the present chapter lies not simply in the existence of the bonded ties, but more in the nature of those ties. These ties are based on norms of reciprocity that are not just informally held as ‘interpersonal obligations’, but formally structured into the web of relationships through adat (traditional customs) and awig. The meaning of awig seems to be stronger than ‘rules’ or ‘norms’ as noted above by Marshall et al., and more like multilayered ‘law’, as interpreted by a Balinese informant. The law follows a kind of hierarchy of obligations of reciprocity first to God, then to village members, then to family members. Further Balinese research into bridging ties by Patrick, Marshall, Muktasam, and Ambarawati (2006) raises some questions for Stone and Hughes’ (2001) definition of linking ties as being ‘. . . associated with trust in governance and expert systems’ (p. 4). Patrick (2004) concludes that . . . with regard to the seed rice contract, participation was influenced by irrigated land ownership and group (subak) membership . . .. Instead of individual smallholder characteristics influencing participation it was community characteristics and social capital (p. ix).

Here we see direct links being made from the macro structure of subak membership to community-level meso characteristics. In Bali, banks were more likely to lend money because they perceived that the groups had the institutional or community structures/incentives to ensure repayment. That is, effective ‘linking’ ties were only effective when various other components were in place at the community and individual level. Here, Patrick et al. (2006) reaffirm, it is the . . . characteristics of the community, not just individual smallholders [that] may be important in determining who participates effectively in the market for new agricultural commodities. While the age of the smallholder, size of holding and education may play a role in influencing a smallholder’s ability to become involved in contract farming production systems (Simmons et al., 2005), the ability of particular groups to access contracts, manage (and hence access) community finance systems and government assistance programmes may also be influenced by other factors such as the strength of the group and the reputation and ability of the group leader (p. 4).

Earlier we saw some verification of the links between macro and meso – subak to community. Here we see confirmation of the individual micro level interactions

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around characteristics such as age, property, leadership and education. While at first sight the level of detail we have entered into may seem somewhat superfluous, it is included to support the overall argument that the clues to the nature of learning point to interactivity, and that two participants are required for interactivity to produce outcomes. To set the concepts we have been sketching in a real context, we provide some examples from extended fieldwork of the first-named researcher in Bali spanning 2005–2007. These are snapshots of lives that show the interrelationships between the components already discussed, and are aimed at providing the reader with a clearer picture of the significance of focusing on the interactivity between fields.

Two Examples of Balinese Situated Vocational Performativity Subaks and their water temple learning networks are the centrepiece of this chapter in terms of the ways in which the learning networks are a true and organic system of performed local vocational learning. The examples here provide some snapshots of other facets of vocational learning at the local level. Each of them was selected on the basis of being a different ‘industry’ group. One is drawn from agriculture – a subak head, and one is from building/construction. Each shows the integration of ‘the cultural’ with ‘the vocational’, with the family, with the community, with the spiritual and so on.

Example 1: Meet Made Ada: The Head of the Rice Irrigation Management Organization ‘Subak’ is the name of the organization that manages the rice irrigation systems throughout Bali. The subak which is the subject of this story is called Subak Mandi, and has an area of 23 ha. It is in the Bangli Regency of Bali. Made (pronounced ‘Marday’) Ada has been the Head (Klian) of this subak for 20 years without a break. The office for Subak Mandi is located in the centre of the regional capital. As the head of the subak, Made has a difficult job. While 23 ha may not sound like a big area, within that area, there are around 70 individual farmers, and these farmers in turn oversee approximately 25 ares (0.25 ha) each. In addition, Made has stated several times that he wants to resign as head, but there is no one who wants to replace him. The people keep asking for him to be the head, and it seems he will be in that position for a long time to come, in spite of his age at more than 65 years. Part of this story revolves around an episode 10 years ago when one of the local government organizations (banjar) in the area wanted to change a section of the subak into a housing development. None of the subak members, including Made, accepted the idea – already, they could see that the allocation of land for rice

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growing was shrinking. In addition, it was argued, it was simply inappropriate to change small farming allotments into a housing development. In the final analysis, the subak won out, the simple proof being that the subak land has not been converted to housing. Another part to this story lies in the nature of intergenerational change in Bali – and for that matter across traditional agricultural communities around the world. Over the years, most of the rice fields in Subak Mandi belong to different landowners. Nowadays, most of the landowners are relatively wealthy, but most of them are not farmers. They have bought (and are buying) the land only for investment – they do not want to be farmers and work in their rice fields, so they hire labourers to work for them in the rice fields. Moreover, the labourers are not in a position to understand and implement new farming techniques or processes, hindering the capacity to manage change and improve the agricultural product and quality. Neither are these new landowners interested in being the head of the subak, which exacerbates Made’s problem – no farmer wants to replace him. However, perhaps the continuity of leadership as Head of Subak Mandi, enforced on Made though it is, is the very thing that has underpinned the successful outcomes achieved by the organization. Landowners and labourers alike agree that they trust Made and cannot find another candidate to replace him. It has been mentioned that the smallest unit of local government in Bali is called the banjar. The members of Subak Mandi are, however, from a number of banjars nearby. Made’s networks across all banjars are strong, the links forged through family connections, friendships and different clubs or associations related to hobbies, work and religion. Made’s own rice field is only a small plot, but he still dedicates his life and hard work to farming. None of his three sons want to replace him or work as farmers. It is also true that the income from Made’s farm does not make enough money to support the family in food, children’s school fees, daily needs and even for home renovations. In that respect, Made is lucky. He is not just a farmer – he has another string to his bow. He is a Tukang Ebat, or Balinese chef. As such he is trusted to make special Balinese cuisine in all the community ceremonies, of which there are many. He is the one who prepares the ceremonial equipment and other requirements related to the use of meat for offerings and food. All in all, he is one of the important village leaders. In meetings, for example, he may not speak a lot, but he has an imposing attitude which impresses others. Made has a sincere attitude and is also kind-hearted. He never complains, even if he is required to be in the temple for a ceremony from morning to night. He often needs to stay awake all night during temple ceremonies, and because of his attitude, people regularly ask him for help, especially to organize ceremonial needs in their homes. He gives this assistance without payment – he does not wish to be remunerated. However, in order to show their appreciation, people find other ways to thank him. For example, all kinds of assistance come his way when he needs to build a new family shrine. Financial assistance is also offered at times, for example his medical bills and medication may be paid for when he is unwell.

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For 5 years now, Made Ada’s responsibilities have steadily increased and the additional responsibilities generally involve helping others. Many families request his assistance in preparing for ceremonies. This includes the organization of the events on the day of the ceremony, preparation of offerings, food and other ceremonial equipment. As is the custom, Made is capably assisted by his wife, named Ketut. Ketut has assisted in helping others make the offerings. The remainder of Made Ada and Ketut’s family also help those who need assistance in preparing for ceremonies. Made has three sons, who are all married. Made’s sons’ wives assist their motherin-law with the housework. Made Ada can see that the family could weaken or separate a little if there were to be different kitchens so he has ensured that they all share one kitchen. This certainly helps maintain the strongly bonded relationships within the family. The sale of offerings for the ceremonial life of the community has become quite a significant entrepreneurial activity for this family. This work has developed rapidly over the last few years. Now they sell these offerings not only in their own village but to those of other villages. Orders also come from institutions such as government departments and private businesses. They are all satisfied customers. Perhaps it was being brought up as a farmer that has built Made Ada’s strong character. He appears to be a humble, simple and honest figure. In this region, Made’s strong and widespread networks combined with these personality characteristics have built trust in him from all community members. Similarly, the networking has been enhanced because of that trust. It is difficult to see which came first here or caused what – the personality traits, the networks or the trust.

Example 2: You Will Never Understand the Power of the Banjar There are two main characters in the portrayal of this example of performativity in vocational life: Wayan the builder, and Ibu, the woman whose family is responsible for the ceremonial life of the particular property where the building event takes place. Wayan is a 28-year-old builder who runs his own building business. He has no formal training as a builder. His work mainly concentrates on building residences for the emerging middle class of more westernized Balinese – those who lead a traditional life in most ways, but who aspire to some western attributes such as more modern buildings. Wayan is from a traditional village which is part of a large regional centre just north of the capital city of Denpasar. When asked how he learned to be a builder Wayan replied, ‘Everyone in my village is a builder. They all build. I learn from them’. His father, too, was a builder. Wayan’s understanding of the Balinese ‘building code’ is extensive, as he was ‘apprenticed’ to his father from the age of 13 when he worked with him during every school holiday and at any other available opportunity. This apprenticeship was more rigorous than any we are familiar with in western TVET training systems. Wayan’s father was himself an experienced lifelong builder,

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with many sons, but Wayan was the son who showed the interest and flair for managing the family business. Wayan still consults his aging father on many matters, while also drawing in ideas and tips from western ‘home maker’ style magazines. Wayan is definitely working in the borderlands between systems and cultures, and while thriving on it, his ‘heart’ is in the banjar. The banjar is the central meeting place for Balinese village life, and is a large, open-sided building. It is the place where individual, small group and large group interactions occur. It is virtually impossible to get anything done in a community without working through the banjar. Wayan is the youth leader in his banjar, which means he coordinates the village youth in various activities, from sports to cultural. The quote from Wayan about the ‘power of the Banjar’ that forms the sub-heading to this section, relates to the degree of reciprocity the structure requires of individuals. As also implied in Marshall et al. (2006) already quoted, the Balinese system has the capacity for ‘encouraging and enforcing loan repayments’ (p. 19): the banjar can rule with a pleasant but entirely effective iron hand of reciprocal accountability which occurs through the interlocking system of ‘bonding tie’ interactivity at the local level. Parallel with the above, we have western commentaries on the Indonesian TVET system, such as by Alto et al. (2000): Indonesia has implemented policies to overhaul and rapidly develop its comparatively small apprenticeship system. The apprenticeships run for 3 years, the typical duration of vocational secondary school programmes. Under this scheme students spend part of their time working in companies as apprentices. The decision to develop an enhanced apprenticeship system in Indonesia had led to a massive increase in the number of apprentices (p. 239).

This kind of statement begs some fundamental questions: Apprenticeships have always happened, as we have seen; so how can, and why do writings such as this ignore the lived reality? And, how can a TVET system that has potential relevance for every village and every family be labelled ‘small’? There are also related questions about what is valued, and therefore what is measured (‘. . . increase in the number . . .’). If the only things valued as worth measuring are related to some western notion of ‘The TVET System’, clearly Wayan’s extensive vocational apprenticeship doesn’t count. Of course this chapter is making the point about why this doesn’t count, but more importantly, how counting this and similar instances in all countries would improve the formal ‘TVET System’ in so many ways. One important way is that, as the Green Revolution example shows, a superimposed system has no chance of succeeding sustainably against thousands of years of interlocked culturally based vocational learning. Back to the Balinese ‘building code’ now. Single quote marks are used to pick out the words ‘building code’ because the Balinese building code has distinctive features. Residential building in Bali at the village level is governed by the spiritual life of Bali. This means that a building can only be started on one of a few ‘auspicious days’ as written in the Balinese calendar (quite different from the western system in a number of ways). The Balinese calendar is divided into years of around 210 days each. The calendar notes and sets down the religious events, related ceremonies and

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their occasions and locations, it notes certain days as being auspicious for various life activities, including the stages of building a home. While a new residence or renovations to an old one may only begin on a particular auspicious day, the formal religious ceremony that marks the laying of the foundations and the ceremony for its completion are marked on different occasions. The village priest, who also happens to be a brother of Ibu (the woman who is in charge of the ceremonial life of the property where the building is taking place), is usually consulted on any detail that the calendar may not specify, but in addition to the knowledge the builder has and applies, the priest will also be consulted on details of the actual building measurements and locations. So a question about the location of a bathroom is a complex one, as bathrooms need to be lower than, and in a particular configuration with the compound temple. The measures are determined by the male who owns the residence’s hand or foot span, and positions are determined using the spiritual guidelines of the mother mountain and the sea, along with these body measurements. While a bathroom wall must be 1–1/2 hand spans from the external wall in the south-west corner of a compound, for example, the dimensions of the bedroom building will be measured in arm spans of the main male occupant. Floor levels of all buildings are set in terms of the family temple level, and heights of buildings are proportionally determined by traditional means as well. So the traditional residential ‘building code’ is as regimented, sensible, healthy and effective as any western local government one, but entirely differently based and determined. The basis is the performed identity with ‘place’ informed by the religion and spirituality of Bali, locked in the island’s culture, and learned and applied not through a technical institute or other educational establishment, but through the ‘religious economy’. Neither, of course, does this building code relate to the overall Indonesian TVET system. The building progresses through a set of calendar-determined stages with the ceremonial life wound through the on-site building activity, as captured in the following ‘foundation ceremony’ episode. The home was begun on an auspicious day after the calendar was extensively consulted. There were 3 days that month when it could officially begin, and the bamboo for the roof needed 3 weeks of curing before the chosen date. On that date, the old building was duly demolished, and the new one begun. Another auspicious day was chosen for the ‘foundation ceremony’, and the services of the village priest booked for the appropriate time and place. Behind the scenes, this meant that the whole family, whose ancestors partially belong in this compound and who serve the compound’s ceremonial life, had to be involved – especially the senior woman, called by the generic name of Ibu, and her son whose ancestors are directly linked to the compound. Ibu would be the family member who carried the ceremonial responsibility for this (and most other) events. Behind the scenes and in the lead-up to the foundation ceremony, Ibu had two prior meetings with the priest to establish the details of the ceremony. These details included not only who had to be there and performing what functions, but also the nature of the mandalic offerings and their contents. Once these details were known, Ibu bought and prepared the food and floral offerings in the lead-up, and then checked with all the players as to their roles. During this stage, the religious

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economy is activated and various integrated forms of vocational learning engaged – daughters and granddaughters sit at Ibu’s knee learning the mandalic patterns and skills of manufacture that only get endorsed as ‘real TVET’ if turned into a tourist item hence classified as a ‘craft’. The horticultural industry that grows the floral components of the ceremonial life (for body decorations as well as offerings) is involved, as is the extensive transport network that supports it. Many relatives are engaged in various aspects of the ceremonial preparations, in prayers and in the performance itself. On the day, the priest is picked up from his home on a motorbike and arrives at the building site. The builders are still working, and continue to do so, forming the backdrop for the whole ceremony which lasts an hour or so. At one corner of the foundations for the new building the trenches and reinforcing steel for the concrete remain exposed for the ceremony. The sitting mats and other paraphernalia are located around the freshly cleaned area beside the corner foundation. As the final preparations occur, the priest engages the builders in light conversation and there are jokes and chat, but essentially the builders go about their tasks. The priest finally takes his seat cross-legged on the mat with Ibu and the young man whose ancestors are involved, and the ceremony is begun with the ringing of the bell by the priest. Various offerings are composed from the floral and food ‘raw material’ piles in front of the priest, and selectively held aloft then offered. This builds up to a main offering being placed and blessed in the corner hole, and symbolically the spirits are set at rest and all is well. The ceremony is entirely accompanied by various roles of Ibu and the young man, the volume of the tinkling of the bell rising and lowering throughout signalling the components of the service, and the builders working away in the background. Once the ceremony is completed, the platters of food offerings are shared between all present, including and especially the builders who then stop for the occasion. After the ceremony, Wayan talks about the integration of the building code with the spiritual and banjar life of Bali. A related building issue was the seemingly unpredictable way in which he as the builder would come and go from the building site, always, he said, for banjar-related reasons. As youth leader of his village banjar there always seemed to be an activity that would require his attention there. Finally, in a friendly but frustrated response to persistent questioning about these matters, Wayan says, ‘You will never understand the power of the Banjar’.

Discussion The discussion that follows is reported in four sub-sections: (a) (b) (c) (d)

the zone of interactivity including top-down/bottom-up, TVET, social capital and ‘ties,’ and learning.

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Zone of Interactivity – Top-Down/Bottom-Up Bottom-Up Matters for Innovation and Sustainability Vocational learning at the local level has found its own ecology in the Balinese case, and in Australian research as noted earlier (e.g. Falk & Harrison, 1998). Grassroots-performed vocational activity (the bottom-up system) has found innovative and sustainable solutions to the local problems encountered. The innovation and sustainability of the solutions lie in the characteristics of the network ties and the way the networks relate together, as seen in the examples of Wayan and Made Ada. Perhaps the innovative finding here lies in the way in which this ‘human’ learning is confirmed in other disciplines, yet based on the same principle of the water temples of communication nodes in the subak networks. For example, regarding the capacity of networks to adjust flexibly and solve problems as learning systems, Lansing (2006) finds that ‘. . . countless local interactions eventually produce a global optimum, with no need for centralized planning’ (p. 195). The implications of the latter finding, based as it is on extensive longitudinal multidisciplinary research involving network theory, computer modelling, archaeological evidence and mathematics among others, are radical not only for TVET, but for learning theory itself and for the way policy and the local level should work together for the mutual and sustainable benefits of each. In short, if local networks can not only ‘learn’ and self-adapt to changing environmental conditions to produce the maximally beneficial outcome in terms of productivity and efficiency, it is crucial to ask the question, what is, then, the role of policy representing as it does the TVET system? This leads us to consider that matter as a separate section now.

Top-Down Lansing (2006) finds that ‘Higher-level control is not required’ (p. 192). This is confirmed by the research reported on in this chapter regarding TVET. The implication is that if higher level control (via policy and the TVET system) is not required to produce maximum results, what does this suggest about the most appropriate and effective role of the top-down component? For a start, it should be noted that ‘control’ is not a synonym for ‘policy’ or ‘strategy’. Policy personnel do, at times, see their role as one of controlling. At other times ‘control’ is a highly important aspect of policy – as in the control of bird flu, for example. However, policy’s role can also be one of building on strengths. History has shown that no significant policy gains will be achieved in this area of human endeavour through mandating or controlling alone. As mooted in the previous section, the research suggests that the most cost-effective and productive role for policy is to first audit the real TVET activity, then selectively support those components and attributes that best support the community, regional and national endeavour. We use the unit of a ‘community’ because strong communities build strong regions; and we use the unit of a ‘region’ because regions form the nation as a whole. By policy processes working at the

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interface – the places where interactions build knowledge and identity – policy itself becomes a conduit for the flow of communication between community and state. However, a conduit contains movement two ways, and the remaining findings show that the two-way, or reciprocal nature of the communication in these conduits, is paramount to achieving successful outcomes: it is equally as important for those at the grassroots to learn more about the needs for top-down policy.

TVET As a term, TVET is commonly used in western cultures to refer to those usually formal learning activities involved in becoming qualified to carry out a vocation. In most cases, this involves a specified period of time as a learner. The learning required will take several forms. Often there will be a period of formal ‘training’, which is a more regimented and collective time for acquiring common knowledge and understanding about the vocation. There will usually be an experiential component comprising work experience or hands-on time. At the end of the specified time the participant is recognized as being ‘competent’ by receiving a piece of paper (usually) saying so. The paper will be called a certificate, diploma or the like. The western assumption is that competency in vocations requires learning in the form of training, other learning and experience of such a duration and intensity as to assure the individuals concerned, the society and the learners’ colleagues that they can do a particular job to a particular set of standards. In the case of Wayan the builder, the knowledge and the ‘certification’ comes in the form of accountability achieved through strong social ties in his ‘building’ village. This example also shows the strong links and overlaps between learning outcomes (competence as a builder), social capital (the qualities of Wayan’s networks) and learning theory in general (social capital’s mechanisms result in learning effectiveness). This interlinking is reflected in the findings reported here, so readers will expect to see overlaps. What Counts as TVET? As in most western countries (perhaps some European countries are exceptions here), matters to do with religion do not seem to count as highly in the TVET system discourses. The religious economy is, arguably, the largest and most important of the economic ‘industries’ at this site, yet is never recognized officially as such. Also like western countries, gender seems to be a factor in determining whether something is called ‘TVET’. Many industries – the more modern ones such as computing and related technology and tourism – are mixed gender workforces. However, more traditional industries, such as building and most agricultural working are largely populated by men. The latter can be called TVET. Those vocations populated by women are not as frequently counted as ‘TVET’. Any produce or arts/crafts market in Bali has a multitude of small business operators, the vast majority of which are women. In the market where Ketut bought the offerings on the way to work there

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are perhaps 500 small business operators at any one time. Of these, perhaps 20–30 involve men. For example, a man operated the business that sold household knives, a man was involved with his wife in selling live pet fish, a couple of men were selling clothes, and one was selling men’s jewellery. In addition to those women small business operators operating in the religious economy noted earlier (floral offerings), there are others selling religious paraphernalia – ceremonial umbrellas, fabrics for different religious purposes such as for laying on altars. Further, there is a large number preparing and selling food, clothes, bric-a-brac and other items.

Small Business As in western countries, small and medium enterprise remains a problem to ‘The TVET System’. In Australia, for example, the majority of the workforce is employed through the small business sector, yet the majority of the TVET system dollar goes to big business. There may be a good reason for this, but there are good reasons, too, for building on known local system strengths and using them as models for new and emerging areas of TVET whether large or small. While the systems are different, nevertheless in Indonesia, the official TVET system as found in the institutes of technology and training establishments are also more closely related to big business. Question for policy remain, then, ‘What do we do about small business? How do we learn from its local responsiveness, flexibility and strength, while supporting it in resource terms to achieve more effective outcomes? What policy initiatives will work? What can be applied to big business, and how can we do this?’ We suggest a flexible non-systemic think tank approach would assist here, where cross-sectoral representation and skills are brought together with a focus on identifying a unified top-down/bottom-up purpose around which new business opportunities, strategies and related resourcing can be directed. The flexibility and diversity around the think tank will promote borderlands where risks in thinking and strategy can occur, and so generate new ways for TVET to become relevant and build on local strengths for more generic benefits. Indonesian authorities might see the opportunity for TVET as a whole from the strengths evidenced in the Bali case. Building on these seems to be a sensible and cost-effective approach to take.

Class It seems a bit anachronistic these days to be talking about ‘social class’, but in reflecting on what counts as TVET in western systems it emerges that those industries in Indonesia seen as more prestigious (‘high/er class’) tend to count more in the official TVET discourse: computing, engineering, tourism and others. This seems to follow a western pattern, which draws our attention to the parallels, where official TVET in most western countries also favours ‘higher class’ vocations. This remains to be tested, but it is certainly a point worth noting for further research. On the other hand, the caste system in Balinese Hinduism supports the apportionment of certain roles and responsibilities between the two genders. The system clearly

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works efficiently, but these two authors do not feel equipped to venture further into questions around cross-cultural gender research. What Is the Same About TVET? Vocational learning is what happens for vocational purposes at the local level, as women and men learn their trades at their parents’ knees in an age-old fashion. Neither does any major part of the TVET system cater to this informal yet predominant form of vocational learning. ‘Training’ on the other hand is the word used by a TVET system provision for a particular vocation, and training is available for most aspects of the more westernized vocations of Indonesian industry – engineering, computing and so on. The top-down ‘training’ and bottom-up ‘learning’ pattern in Indonesia is similar in western countries too, in relation to the ways in which these two aspects converge or not. In summary of the TVET sub-section, we commend a greater focus by TVET systems on investigating and supporting selectively what people in real vocations do successfully. It should be possible to audit the vocations that engage people in jobs and earning incomes (if these are considered the most important criteria for a vocation) rather than somehow selecting for our attention only some industries. We cannot see a sound economic, fiscal or social (or any other) argument for the selective recognition and resourcing of what counts as ‘industry’ or ‘vocation’ in any country. There is sufficient evidence to indicate that, by paying policy and strategic attention to the ‘real’ industries (culture, sawah management, small business of all kinds irrespective of gender and other factors) countries would be better able to target resources, programmes and strategies for the common purpose shared by both the grassroots and the top-down levels. After all, the manner in which successful outcomes are achieved in existing industries is the best single starting point for success in a new ‘industry’ area. The statistics quoted earlier (Djojonegoro, 1994) show that only a small proportion of people who are trained in a particular field actually take up employment in that field, mainly because they need employment immediately to provide for their families. This is a finding as relevant to Australia and other western countries as it is to Bali.

Social Capital and ‘Ties’ The Bali case supports the literature in that it finds there are differences in how sets of interactions are used. As the examples of Ibu and Made Ada show, people have different sets of interactions within their existing relationships. These sets have different purposes, which may be for bonding, bridging or linking. That is, in the one interactive tie, the three different functions may be served. This tends to support the finding of Leonard and Onyx (2003) when they say that ‘. . . loose and strong ties are not synonymous with bridging and bonding’ (p. 225). Moreover, ‘. . . people prefer to bridge through their strong ties’ (p. 225). However, as discussed more fully, we have some problems with the word ‘ties’ as used in the social capital

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Fig. 3.1 Articulation of network interactions

literature. The literature confuses the relationship with the purpose and outcome of the interactive sets that are embedded in the interactive field. ‘Ties’ are often equated with the ‘relationship’ as opposed to the purpose of the sub-sets of interactions within the main interactive field. The classic example used is the bonding ties of the mafia. Indeed it is not the ties necessarily that are ‘bonded’ so much as the sub-sets of interactions within that overall set of mafia relationships. In diagrammatic terms, the suggested restructure of terms can be encapsulated as shown in Fig. 3.1. The preceding figure is explained by drawing on our data. In the case of Ibu, she has one interactive field – a relationship – with the village priest who performed the ceremony for the foundations. The priest is her brother, and she has always had a wide interactive field from which a number of different types of interactive sub-sets occur. There is a strong set of interactions whose nature, purpose and outcomes are of a bonding type. The priest, her brother, is also, however, in a position of significant power and so Ibu utilizes the same relationship (interactive field) for interactive sets with him and the purpose is clearly defined for linking. Other interactive subsets concern advice for action within the village, and are of a bridging type. The networks within Wayan’s village that nurture and grow vocational knowledge about building are interactive sub-sets drawn from various relationship interactive fields. In the case of the family relationship with his father, the different interactive sub-sets are often bonding, bridging and linking, not one or the other. What seems to be important across all fields of interactions is that the function of the interaction depends on the common purpose of the communication. It is difficult to see how one could generalize about the use, worth or value of, say, bonding ‘ties’ without knowing the purpose or function that the tie was used for in a particular situation, nor how its use then compared in importance with another use of a different kind of ‘tie’. That is, in this research, the purpose determines the function (bonding, bridging or linking) to which the tie is put, and in any one relationship, many interactive sets are embedded. Adjoining neighbours across the rice paddy irrigation channel have a relationship of some kind (family, friend etc.) and depend on each other for something – knowledge about crop productivity in relation to pests and water supply – which has that common purpose or interest at its heart. However, it also shows that the descriptions of bonding, bridging and linking in the literature need considerable qualification if they are to be meaningful at the local level where work is done. That is, a ‘tie’ is one purpose-related ‘interactive set’, and there can and often are all three types of interactive sets (bonding, bridging and linking) embedded in the one field of relationship interactivity.

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Based on the preceding discussion, we propose a schema that elaborates on the nature of network ties and relationships and clarifies the terms according to their sequence of interactive production: (a) The first is the relationship (interactive field) between those producing the interactions; (b) The second is the specified set of interactions (interactive set) coming out of that relationship which have a common purpose/intent/function/intended outcome, and when we look at a particular set and its purpose, we are then in a position to identify and describe the third group: (c) The third group, which is the type of interactive set. These may be of a bonding type, a bridging type or a linking type; (d) In the fourth stage we are in a position to mark out interactive productivity as it is found to occur, namely the nature of the outcomes of the interactions. We therefore suggest a qualification to the use of the term ‘tie’. We simply cannot find a pure ‘tie’ at the point of interactive production. The nearest a ‘tie’ gets in relation to the empirically based categories above is at (b), the specified set of interactions, but ‘tie’ is misleading in that it suggests people only have one type of tie or another and that these ties depend on the relationship. Not so, the relationship spawns interactive sets of different types. We recognize that the nature of a ‘tie’, and the assumptions around it, comes from the networks literature. The advantages of such a broad analytic categorization lie in the macro measurement potential, and there is a great deal of activity around this sphere of research these days, which succeeds in describing the world comparatively, and with capacity for some generalization. However, the result of such a broad categorization lies in its very crudeness: it cannot provide the kind of anthropological qualifications and subtleties we offer in this chapter. What we intend doing is to provide the explanatory and empirical links between the ‘real’ worlds described and the categories used by the macro statistical world. It is a major concern here to ensure the measured ‘big picture’ does actually reflect the lived realities. We are therefore suggesting the appropriate modification and qualification of some of the core terms in social capital theory, especially in relation to the way in which the word ‘ties’ is used.

Learning Findings about learning are closely related to the findings on social capital in the previous section. It is the quality of the networks and relationships (interactive field) that determine learning effectiveness (interactive productivity in the diagram above) and constitute the process of learning itself (interactive sets). Regarding the capacity of networks to adjust flexibly and solve problems as learning systems, we concur with Lansing (2006) in finding that countless local interactions eventually produce a global optimum and that networks can and do solve problems. This

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self-organizing process, he finds, optimizes environmental parameters, raises productivity and reduces variance in outcomes. The case of Ibu and Wayan illustrates and confirms this well. About ‘learning’, therefore, we can say this: learning is only and ever the process whereby sets of interactivity with specified and purposeful goals, draw on their relationship-based interactive field, in turn achieving productive interactivity which can then be described, defined, evaluated and measured accurately. The implication of this for evaluation and measurement is that we can as a result be confident that we are making judgements about what happens in reality, since the conceptual categories of the underpinning interactive process have been empirically derived. To maximize its usefulness to a range of audiences, statistics should, we contend, be based on reality as well as mathematics. Measuring ‘ties’, for example, has qualified value now we understand that ties are one type of interactive set, not the relationship itself. The implication of this for learning theory is that learning can only be explained, understood and evaluated by reference to the interactive fields and sets that comprise it.

Conclusion Perhaps the term ‘local solutions’ conjures up an image for policy personnel of highly specific and localized ways of doing TVET that have limited transferability or application elsewhere. After all, policy people’s main concern is with finding policy and strategic solutions for the problems of the largest number of people. If this is the case, then we strongly suggest otherwise. Local solutions, derived through the struggles in the zone of interactive trouble, provide insights into the ways people (anywhere) solve problems and so adapt to change: these ways, through learning networks, are as generalizable as any other kind of research findings. ‘Learning networks’ – the complex of interactive fields, sets and productivity – can achieve an ecological balance that at once achieves effective and productive outcomes, while maintaining flexibility in problem solving through the zones of interactive trouble that occur within and between the different interactive sets. It becomes the role of the ‘top-down’ people to interact with the ‘bottom-up’ people to understand each other and form a new borderland of purpose-related interactive sets so as to maximize local learning outputs in the greater district, regional and national interests.

References Alto, R., Isaac, I., Knight, B., & Polestico, R. (2000). Training systems in South-East Asia: VTET accreditation and certification in SEAMEO member countries (with an appendix on Australia). Adelaide: NCVER. Balatti, J., Black, S., & Falk, I. (2006a). Reframing adult literacy and numeracy: A social capital perspective. AVETRA conference, ‘Global VET: Challenges at the global, national and local levels’, Wollongong, April 19–21, 2006.

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Balatti, J., Black, S., & Falk, I. (2006b). A social capital perspective of literacy course outcomes: A case study of adult literacy. AATE/ALEA voices, vibes, visions: Hearing the voices, feeling the vibes, capturing the visions Darwin high school 8th–11th July 2006 conference, Wollongong, April 19–21, 2006. Balatti, J., & Falk, I. (2002). Socioeconomic contributions of adult learning to community: A social capital perspective. Adult Education Quarterly, 52(4), 281–298. Bali Vacation Villas. (2006). Retrieved November 15, 2006, from http://www.balivacationvillas. com/baliinfo.html Bates, F. (1997). Sociopolitical ecology: Human systems and ecological fields. New York: Plenum Press. Black, A., & Hughes, P. (2001). The identification and analysis of indicators of community strength and outcomes. (Commonwealth Department of) Canberra: Family and Community Services. Butler, J. [1990] (1999). Gender trouble: Feminism and the subversion of identity (pp. 9–11, 45–49). New York: Routledge. CIA. (2011). The World Factbook, Link: https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-worldfactbook/index.html last accessed 20 May 2011 Colinvaux, P. (1986). Ecology. New York: Wiley. Djanali, S. (2005). Current update of Indonesia higher education. Last accessed 30 December, 2005, http://www.rihed.seameo.org/NewsandEvents/current%20update/pindonesia.pdf Djojonegoro, W. (1994). Education and training for business and industry. A paper delivered at the Australia and Indonesia – linking and matching education and training for industry conference, Jakarta, June 16, 1994, p. 17. Doherty, C. (2005). Understanding trouble in paradise: Intuitive natives and screaming aliens. A paper presented to the OLT 2005 conference, QUT, Brisbane, 71–80. Last accessed 30 December, 2005, https://olt.qut.edu.au/udf/olt2005/ FactMonster. (2006). Retrieved November 15, 2006, from http://www.factmonster.com/ipka/ A0107634.html Falk, I. (1998). The convergence of vocational and adult education in learning communities. Community College Journal of Research and Practice, 50(4), 609–627. Falk, I. (2006). Essence of engagement: Social capital in workplace learning. In G. Castelton, R. Gerber, & H. Pillay (Eds.), Chapter in improving workplace learning: Emerging international perspectives (pp. 21–34). New York: Nova Science Publishers Inc. Falk, I., & Balatti, J. (2004). Literacy ecologies and lifelong learning: The importance of ‘process’ in repositioning literacy debates. Learning Communities: International Journal of Learning in Social Contexts, 1, 45–65. Falk, I., & Guenther, J. (2002). Literacy and numeracy for the new world of un/employment: Implications of a fully literate Australia. Melbourne: Language Australia. Falk, I., Guenther, J., Lambert, T., & Johnstone, K. (2006). Role of evaluation in assessing and developing communication and governance processes in an evidence-based policy development/implementation environment. Refereed paper published in conference proceedings for the Australasian Evaluation Society held at the Holiday Inn, Darwin, September. Retrieved May 21, 2011, from http://www.aes.asn.au/conferences/2006/papers/100%20Ian%20Falk.pdf Falk, I., & Harrison, L. (1998). Community learning and social capital: ‘Just having a little chat’. Journal of Vocational Education and Training, 50(4), 609–627. Falk, I., & Kilpatrick, S. (1999). Re-focusing on learning regions: Education, training and lifelong learning for Australia’s wellbeing. Commissioned chapter, regional Australia summit, parliament house, Canberra, October 27–29. Falk, I., & Kilpatrick, S. (2000). What is social capital? A study of a rural community. Sociologia Ruralis, 1(40), 87–110. Falk, I., & Millar, P. (2003). Review of research: Literacy and numeracy in vocational education and training. Adelaide: NCVER. Flora, C. B., Flora, J. L., & Fey, S. (2004). Rural communities: Legacy and change. Boulder, CO: Westview Press.

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Freebody, P., Ludwig, C., Gunn, S., Forrest, T., Freiberg, J., & Herschell, P. (1995). Everyday literacy practices in and out of schools in low socio-economic Urban communities: A summary of a descriptive and interpretive research program. Brisbane: Commonwealth Department of Employment, Education and Training. Giddens, A. (1990). Consequences of modernity. Cambridge: Polity Press. Gladwin, C. (1980). Cognitive strategies and adoption decisions: Study of non-adoption of an agronomic recommendation (Mexico), Chapter 1. In D. Brokensha, D. Warren, & O. Werner (Eds.), Indigenous knowledge systems and development (pp. 9–28). Lanham, MD: University Press of America. Guenther, J., Falk, I., & Arnott, A. (2006). Partners in practice: does the national VET rhetoric connect with reality? AVETRA conference, ‘Global VET: Challenges at the global, national and local levels’, Wollongong, April 19–21, 2006. Heritage, J. (1984). Garfinkel and ethnomethodology. Cambridge: Polity Press. Hirabayashi, E., Warren, D., & Owen, W. (1980). That focus on the ‘other 40%’: A myth of development, Chapter 21. In D. Brokensha, D. Warren, & O. Werner (Eds.), Indigenous knowledge systems and development (pp. 359–368). Lanham, MD: University Press of America. Howes, M. (1980). The uses of Indigenous technical knowledge in development, Chapter 20. In D. Brokensha, D. Warren, & O. Werner (Eds.), Indigenous knowledge systems and development (pp. 341–358). Lanham, MD: University Press of America. Hugonnier, B. (1999). ‘Regional development tendencies in OECD countries’, keynote address to regional Australia summit, Parliament House, Canberra, October 1999. IAU World Higher Education Database. (2006). Indonesia – education system. Retrieved September 2006, from http://www.unesco.org/iau/onlinedatabases/systems_data/id.rtf Indahnesia.com. (2007). Retrieved July 19, 2007, from http://indahnesia.com/indonesia/PROBAL/ bali.php Jakarta Post. (2006). Retrieved November 15, 2006, from http://www.thejakartapost.com/outlook/ eco07b.asp Kral, I., & Falk, I. (2003). What is all the learning for? Indigenous adult English literacy practices, training, community capacity and health. South Australia: NCVER. Lansing, S. (2006). Perfect order. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Lansing, S., & Miller, J. (2005). Cooperation games and ecological feedback: Some insights from Bali. Current Anthropology, 46(2), 328–333. Leonard, R., & Onyx, J. (2003). Networking through loose and strong ties: An Australian qualitative study. Voluntas: International Journal of Voluntary and Nonprofit Organizations, 14(2), 189–203. Marshall, G., Patrick, I., Muktasam, I., & Ambarawati, A. (2006). Alleviating poverty by linking smallholders with agribusiness: Roles of social capital and common property. Paper presented at the 11th Biennial conference of the international association for the study of common property, Ubud, Bali, Indonesia, June 19–23, 2006. Patrick, I. (2004). Contract farming in Indonesia: Smallholders and agribusiness working together. ACIAR Technical Reports 54, Canberra, Australia. Patrick, I., Marshall, G., Muktasam, I., & Ambarawati, A. (2006). Determining the role of social capital in linking smallholders with agribusiness. Paper presented at the 50th annual conference of the Australian agricultural & resource economic society, Manly Pacific Hotel, Sydney, Australia, February 8–10, 2006. Pringle, R. (2004). A short history of Bali: Indonesia’s Hindu realm. Crows Nest, Australia. Sepe, J. (2000). The impact of the Green Revolution and capitalized farming on the Balinese water temple system. Retrieved October 3, 2006, from http://eclectic.ss.uci.edu/~drwhite/Anthro129/ balinesewatertemplesJonathanSepe.htm Stone, W., & Hughes, J. (2001). Sustaining communities: An empirical investigation of social capital in regional Australia. Paper presented to SEGRA 2001 fifth national conference, Townsville, Australia, September 10–12, 2001. Surowiecki, J. (2004). The wisdom of crowds. London: Abacus.

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Wallace, R., & Falk, I. (2006). ‘Social capital, higher education and policy performance’, paper presented at Australian social sciences academy forum, social capital & social justice: Critical Australian perspectives, Queensland University of Technology (QUT), Brisbane, Australia, July 2006. Wikipedia. (2006). Green Revolution. Retrieved December 20, 2006, from http://en.wikipedia.org/ wiki/Green_Revolution Woolcock, M., & Narayan, D. (2000). Social capital: Implications for development theory, research and policy. World Bank Research Observer, 15(2), 225–249.

Chapter 4

Constructing Learners as Members of Networks Jo Balatti and Stephen Black

Introduction Networks are the sites through which social capital is generated. The number and the nature of memberships that people have in networks are indicators of the social capital that they can access. This chapter considers the possible consequences for pedagogy and even for what is valued as training outcomes if learners, in particular TVET learners, are seen as members of networks. The chapter begins with a discussion of what it means to conceptualize learners as members of networks. It then draws on research studies undertaken by the authors to identify the pedagogical strategies that seem to enhance the potential for social capital outcomes to occur for learners. It concludes with the kinds of social capital outcomes that learners can experience. Findings drawn on in this chapter are primarily from researching adult language, literacy and numeracy training. How educators view their adult learners affects how they teach and what they value as learning outcomes. Teachers can hold multiple, and sometimes even contradictory, conceptualizations of who their learners are in their courses and in the other contexts of their lives. Conceptualizations are many and range from the concrete to the metaphorical. Learners may be viewed as tradespeople or professionals ‘in the making’; as problem solvers; as team members; as lifelong learners; as agents for change; as contributors to society; or as replacements for those who depart. The learning theories to which educators subscribe also lead to different conceptualizations of the learner – as an ‘empty vessel’, as a builder of knowledge, or as a co-constructor of knowledge in community with others. Deficit labels to do with ethnicity, gender and class can have educators refer to cohorts of learners as the ‘socially excluded’, the ‘marginalized’, and the ‘disadvantaged’. In this chapter, we invite you to think about learners as members of networks or as having access to particular networks. Networks are the links among people which are activated for particular purposes. Networks exist in social units such as families, friendship J. Balatti (B) School of Education, James Cook University, Townsville, QLD 4811, Australia e-mail: [email protected]

R. Catts et al. (eds.), Vocational Learning, Technical and Vocational Education and Training: Issues, Concerns and Prospects 14, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-1539-4_4,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2011

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groups, community groups, special interest groups, or in any collection of people that have some formal or informal association. To construct learners as members of networks focuses attention on the connections that learners may or may not have with others and on what those connections might mean for their learning experience. To think of learners as members of networks or as having access to networks has implications for the pedagogical choices teachers make, and even for what they consider to be worthwhile outcomes for those who undertake the education and training they deliver.

Background Our interest in what it means to view learners in terms of networks results from our work exploring the relationship between social capital and learning, especially in the areas of adult community education and adult literacy (Balatti, Black, & Falk, 2006, 2009; Falk, Golding, & Balatti, 2000). Socially excluded, at risk, and disadvantaged are labels that have been attached to many of the learners in our studies. By social capital we mean those ‘networks, together with shared norms, values and understandings which facilitate cooperation within or amongst groups’ (Australian Bureau of Statistics [ABS], 2004, p. 5) for specific purposes. By learning we mean changes in the knowledge resources and identity resources held by the learners as a result of participation in a course. Knowledge resources refer to ‘common understandings related to knowledge of community, personal, individual and collective information’ (Falk & Kilpatrick, 2000, p. 99). Identity resources are the ‘common understandings related to personal, individual and collective identities’ (Falk & Kilpatrick, 2000, p. 100) that people produce through interactions. These resources are behaviours, knowledge, beliefs and feelings that come from having a sense of belonging to different groups ‘in different ways and to different degrees of intensity in any given context at any given moment’ (Falk & Balatti, 2003, p. 182). These studies showed a dialectic relationship between learning and social capital. On the one hand, the networks to which learners belong or to which they have access affect the nature of the learning experienced. On the other, the learning they experience can change the number and kind of networks in which learners interact, as well as change the nature of the interactions that learners have in those networks. These changes are described as social capital outcomes. The social capital outcomes, along with the more often recognized human capital outcomes, experienced from participating in education and training can impact the socio-economic wellbeing of the learners. In our work we have used the eight OECD (1982) areas of social concern to describe socio-economic well-being – health; education and training; employment and quality of life; time and leisure; command over goods and services; physical environment; social environment and personal safety. The research also showed that a number of factors affect the social capital outcomes learners experience. Pedagogy is one of those factors. The learning environment created, including the teaching strategies used, the resources selected

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and the interactions that occur among learners and with teachers, influences the social capital outcomes experienced and their impact on the socio-economic well-being of the learners. We first recognized the significance of pedagogy in a study of the socio-economic contribution to society made by 10 adult community education courses in the state of Victoria in Australia (Balatti & Falk, 2002; Falk et al., 2000). Two subsequent research projects on adult literacy delivery (Balatti et al., 2006; 2009) explored in more detail the ways in which teachers accounted for social capital in their pedagogy when teaching their courses. The examples used in this chapter are from these two studies. The participants in the courses are referred to in this chapter as learners or students. In the first study (Balatti et al., 2006), 75 interviews were conducted in four different sites in Australia; 57 were with participants and 18 were with teachers. The interviews sought information about course outcomes and aspects of the course that produced those outcomes. The second study (Balatti et al., 2009) involved literature reviews and environmental scans of adult literacy and numeracy courses delivered in Australia particularly in the areas of health and personal financial literacy. This study also included three action research projects undertaken with three teachers interested in developing a social capital approach to their teaching. The study produced a set of guidelines for the delivery of adult literacy and numeracy courses from a social capital perspective. Before presenting an explanation of what it means to construct learners as members of networks and the implications this may have for teaching, we provide a brief overview of the literature that explores social capital in the context of education and in particular, technical and vocational education and training (TVET). We then explain how the concept of social capital has been interpreted and used in our research. Reviews of how social capital is defined, theorized and applied in different disciplines, including education, now abound (Baron, Field, & Schuller, 2000; Dika & Singh, 2002; Liou & Chang, 2008). Because of its multiple interpretations and applications, we provide a detailed explanation of how social capital is used in our particular context to help explain the ways in which pedagogy can lead to changes in social capital and to the resources that the learners access via the networks in which they interact.

Social Capital and Vocational Education and Training To date, the contribution that a social capital perspective might offer to how we make our pedagogical choices has not been the subject of much research in education and even less so in TVET. In the schooling sector, there is some research (e.g. Print & Coleman, 2003; Smyth, 2000) that mainly links curriculum and pedagogy with the kind of social capital to do with civic virtue and cohesion. In the field of adult learning, Willis (2007) interprets social capital as a ‘particular kind of capability that develops in groups and networks with strong and trusting connections’ (p. 350) and proposes the idea of ‘social capital learning’ (p. 374) within a framework of transformational pedagogy. Despite the dearth of research, we would

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argue that pedagogy is integral to how learners experience social capital outcomes through education and training. To illustrate the relevance of pedagogy in social capital building, it might be fitting to turn to John Dewey, the great American philosopher, educationist and psychologist of the twentieth century. According to Farr’s (2004) conceptual history of social capital, Dewey was one of the first two people, the other being another educationist Lyda Hanifan, to use the term ‘social capital’ in ways that resonate with how it is often used today. In the early twentieth century, Dewey galvanized the concept of social capital to press home the importance of schools in creating civil society. Amongst the many exhortations he made to teachers, he argued for the need to teach the three ‘Rs’ through connecting the learning experience of the classroom to that of the learners’ lives and to that of their communities. As early as 1900, he explained that reading, writing and arithmetic were the ‘the keys which will unlock to the child the wealth of social capital which lies beyond the possible range of his limited individual experience’ (1956, p. 111). In our research we too view social capital as resources that our learners can access but we do not necessarily associate social capital only with civil society. Although there may not be much research at the intersection of social capital and pedagogy, there has been much more interest in other links between social capital and education. The contributions that education (Bexley, Marginson, & Wheelahan, 2007; Schuller, Preston, Hammond, Brassett-Grundy, & Bynner, 2004) and TVET in particular (Allison, Gorringe, & Lacey, 2006), including adult literacy training (Tett et al., 2006), have made to social capital at the individual or community level have attracted significant research interest, but the challenges continue to be how one can better understand the complexity of that contribution and how one can measure it. Since Coleman’s (1988) work on the effect of social capital on human capital, researchers have investigated the impact of learners’ existing social capital on lifelong learning (Strawn, 2003), education aspirations (Khattab, 2002) and achievement (Goddard, 2003) and how educational institutions may compensate for any perceived deficit. This body of work has led to policy implications in education including TVET (Falk, 2004; Kearns, 2004). Amongst these, the value of developing partnerships among government, TVET providers, industry and community is arguably one of the most important. In our view, it is no coincidence that the significance of networks goes beyond pedagogy to include TVET policy, planning, resourcing, marketing and other aspects of delivery (Allison et al., 2006; Balatti et al., 2009).

Social Capital Activated Through Interactions Fundamental to social capital theory is the proposition that networks of relations are a resource that can facilitate access to other resources of value to individuals or groups. For the learners in our research, the ‘other resources’ include knowledge, skills, qualifications, jobs, contacts and friendships. From a learning perspective, the two sets of resources that are of most interest are those we described earlier as ‘knowledge resources’ and ‘identity resources’.

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Whether social capital refers to the networks themselves or to the resources accessed via those networks, or even both, remains debatable. Coleman’s (1988, p. 98) interpretation of social capital which has strongly influenced many in the application of the concept to educational contexts, clearly identifies networks as being an important element of social capital: [Social capital] is not a single entity but a variety of different entities, with two elements in common: they all consist of some aspect of social structures, and they facilitate certain actions of actors – whether persons or corporate actors – within the structure.

According to Coleman (1988), the main aspects of social relations in which the capital inheres are the obligations, expectations and trust set up within the relationships; the information channels created in the social structure; and the norms and sanctions operating within the collectivity. Consistent with Coleman’s interpretation is the Australian Bureau of Statistics (2004) definition of social capital stated earlier. It restricts social capital to meaning the networks only. The ABS definition is drawn from that of the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (2001) which also explains that, along with natural capital, produced economic capital and human capital, social capital contributes to the socio-economic well-being of the individual and community. Since 2004, we have adopted the Australian government endorsed definition for pragmatic reasons and because it resonated with our interpretation of social capital. The ABS adds that social capital cannot be considered separately from the cultural, political, institutional and legal contexts in which the networks operate. This is important to note because these are the contexts that influence the capacity of social capital outcomes to lead to improvements in the socio-economic well-being of our learners. Elaborating on the definition, the ABS produced a framework in which the aspects of networks that seem to influence the nature of social capital are identified. These aspects are the group composition of the networks; the qualities of the network; the types of networks; the structure of the networks and the transactions of the networks. This framework has been adapted in our research (see Table 4.1) to identify the social capital outcomes, that is, the changes in how learners experience networks from participation in education and training. For example, a course may lead learners to experience an increased or decreased level of trust (1a) in particular systems e.g. education, the law or the financial system; it may lead learners to have more confidence (3b) in dealing with institutions (4c); or it may have learners relinquish membership of some existing networks and join others (2a). As well as the definition of social capital being still in dispute, so also is its ownership. Portes (1998, p. 3) notes that ‘studies have stretched the concept from a property of individuals and families to a feature of communities, cities and even nations’. Social capital has been viewed as a private good, that is, an asset owned by individuals, and as a public good owned by groups and beneficial to members of those groups. Because the research that we are drawing on here has been about teaching practices in education systems that use assessment regimes that measure the performance of individuals, we have adopted the notion of social capital as being a private good. This means we have centred our research on how individuals

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Social capital outcomes as indicated by learner changes in 1 Network qualities 1a trust levels 1b in beliefs about personal influence on his/her own life and that of others 1c action to solve problems in one’s life or in that of others 1d beliefs and interaction with people who are different from oneself 3 Network transactions 3a the support sought, received or given in the networks to which the learner is attached 3b the ways the learner negotiates and shares information and skills

2 Network structures 2a the number or nature of attachments to existing and new networks 2b the number or nature of the ways that the learner keeps in touch with others in his/her networks 2c the nature of memberships in networks, for example, changing the power differential

4 Network types 4a the activities undertaken with the main groups with which the learner interacts 4b the activities with groups that are different from the learner’s 4c the links that the learner has to institutions

Source: Balatti et al. (2009)

rather than groups may experience social capital outcomes and the impact of those outcomes on their socio-economic well-being. A third point of contention concerns the ‘goodness’ of social capital. Some would suggest that social capital is intrinsically good and that there can be no such thing as negative or ‘bad’ social capital. Portes (1998) again would have us think otherwise. This issue is particularly important in educational contexts where the word ‘outcome’ in the often-used term ‘learning outcome’ almost always has positive connotations. Our research has shown that social capital outcomes need not have a positive impact. For instance, the new network which learners enter by virtue of participating in a course may impact on their well-being in both negative and positive ways. Examples proliferate of learners becoming estranged from family or friendship groups because of the new knowledge or a new sense of self experienced through learning. We conclude therefore that social capital outcomes may result in positive or negative effects for learners depending on the contexts (including the networks) in which they operate. Two important aspects of our understanding of how people engage with social capital are that i. Social capital, that is, the network, is ‘activated’ at the point of interaction among people, and ii. When learning occurs, the interactions change and to varying degrees, so do the relations within the network. If there is no interaction the network lies dormant. If there are interactions in a network but there is no new knowledge or identity resources injected into the

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interactions, the network is active but remains unchanged. This is characteristic of closed networks often found in socially or culturally isolated communities. When new knowledge or identity resources are introduced into a network through interactions, there is a reaction and the possibility for change. Interactions can be face to face but need not be – they can be asynchronous as well as occurring across different places. Pedagogical choices influence the nature of the interactions in which the learners engage and therefore they can influence how learners interact in their networks and thus influence the resources that are available to them and to the other members of the networks.

Constructing Learners in Relation to Networks From the teacher’s viewpoint, there are three categories of networks (Balatti et al., 2009, p. 34) which can potentially shape the learning experience of participants in education and training (Fig. 4.1). The first category comprises the existing networks to which the learner already belongs or has access prior to undertaking the course. The second category of networks, and the one which teachers are most able to influence, consists of those networks of learners that form for the purpose of achieving intended learning outcomes. These networks may or may not have teachers as members. The third set of networks consists of those new networks which learners access outside the course context as a result of the new learning experienced.

Existing Networks Learners come to the course already having connections to existing networks. This is important to take into account in designing learning experiences for course participants on at least three counts. First, it means that learners already have ways of interacting in those networks that have them draw on particular knowledge and

Learner group

Existing networks The learner

Fig. 4.1 Constructing the learner as a member of networks. Source: Balatti et al. (2009)

Potential new networks

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identity resources that they own. Second, existing aspects of networks – and the resources embedded in them – can impede, enrich or have no impact on the learning in the course. Third, for learning from a course to ‘take root’, it needs to transfer to the learners’ everyday lives outside the course. This means that how learners will interact in their existing networks may change as a result of changed knowledge and identity resources resulting from participation in the course. Teaching strategies that take these factors into account were evident in examples of financial literacy training in our studies. In a parenting and life skills programme for mothers aged 15–24, financial literacy training took place on a one-on-one basis only in relation to the learner’s needs and activities in her everyday life. Outside the course, the family unit was a significant network and for many of the women, the skills and values to do with effective money management were wanting not only in themselves but also in their partners or other adults in the family. When a young mother took home new financial knowledge and resolve to change practices, her attempts would sometimes meet with non-cooperation or even verbal and physical hostility. The risk of the new knowledge and identity resources associated with better money management not taking root in everyday life can be high, and a further decline in quality of life can result. Awareness of these possibilities led to the facilitators providing informal opportunities around morning teas, celebratory events or projects such as preparing products for a market day, for partners to also participate in the training. These facilitators recognized that for change to occur for the socio-economic well-being of their learners, they had to acknowledge the existing networks of the learners, the significance of the other members of those networks and the nature of the interactions within those networks. If we accept that learning involves changes in the identity and knowledge resources that learners bring to their interactions in networks, we also need to acknowledge that such changes can disrupt the existing patterns of interaction in those networks. How those changes are responded to by other members of the network varies. They may welcome the changes or they may find them disconcerting or even confronting. When learning to read allows a mother to help with her children’s homework or to write a letter to the school’s principal, the benefits are clearly positive to the other network members i.e. the children and the teachers. This isn’t always the case. A number of teachers had stories of learners’ partners ‘sabotaging’ their participation when they saw that they were ‘changing’. For example, they caused impediments such as creating logistical difficulties when it was time to go to class by refusing to look after the children or taking the car. In many situations, teachers can do little about the negative fallout apart from being aware of its possibility and responding to individual cases as they come to their attention.

The Learner Group The networks which form amongst the learner group that have achievement of intended learner outcomes as their purpose vary in size and composition. They may be as small as diodes (two learners or a learner and a teacher) or they may be larger

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groups consisting of only students or of students and teachers. Arguably the most significant network, or at least the one in which the teacher is likely to have the most influence, is the class, that is, the formal network that constitutes the learner group and the teaching staff together. It is formal in the sense that it has been formed for the explicit purpose of learning. As far as possible, the teacher shapes the learning environment through specific group norms and pedagogical practices that allow learners to generate new and ‘good’ resources, that is, to learn. Because much research has been done elsewhere on the teacher-learner relationship and on the interactions in learner groups that lead to quality communication and learning, they are not discussed here. The two aspects that we do explore here are the significance of the teacher as a member of the learner networks and the special role these networks have as a ‘practice field’ especially for trying out new ‘identity resources’. The knowledge and identity resources that teachers bring to the learner networks can have significant impact on the learning experience. For many of the learners in our research, enrolling in a course and meeting the teacher can mean interacting with someone who is from ‘another world’ in terms of education, values and connections. The experience is further enriched if there are several teachers, such as adult literacy teachers co-teaching with health educators or financial literacy educators. Not only is the teachers’ content knowledge valuable but for some, teachers become role models. This is especially so if the learners know that at some stage, their teachers were where they are now. For others, teachers are the means by which they learn to make connections with people outside their own closed circles as the following story illustrates. This story is from a teacher who uses letter-writing with her students of nonEnglish-speaking background as a way of embedding language in social practice. One of her students wrote her a letter explaining that she wanted to bring back her mother’s ashes from Hong Kong but did not know how to go about it. According to the teacher, the woman would never have discussed such a personal and significant matter in class. The teacher, too, did not know the process, so she replied requesting a few days in which she could do some research. After relaying in writing the pertinent information concerning the government departments that needed to be contacted, the teacher did not receive further correspondence about the matter until months later. A letter from the learner reported that her mother’s ashes had arrived and had been put to rest in the Buddhist temple she attended. To use some of the elements of the table presented earlier, this is a story that illustrates the trust building that occurred in the interactions between teacher and student. The trust led to the learner sharing her problem and drawing on the resource that the teacher made available which was her capacity to find out the necessary information to achieve her purpose. This, in turn, led the learner to make links with government agencies that she might not have otherwise made. In this case, the new identity and knowledge resources led to a positive result for the learner. The second aspect of the learner networks to which we wish to draw attention is their function as ‘practice fields’ for learning new knowledge resources and especially for learning new identity resources that lead to different ways of being. The resources may be new skills, new attitudes and beliefs about self and others, new

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ways of interaction and new links and connections. For many, the formal learning networks are a new and safe environment in which to practise new skills, play out new aspects of identity and perhaps discard existing ones. New identity resources may include seeing oneself for the first time as a learner, as a lifelong learner, as a more active citizen, as a leader, or as a reader and writer and all that represents. The role of the teacher in the practice field can vary from being that of active participant to being entirely absent. Health literacy courses, for example, provided many examples of practice fields in which teachers designed the opportunities for learners to ‘try on’ more assertive identities which they then took to appointments with their medical practitioners. Teachers explained that learners often raised personal health issues in the group for discussion. In these conversations, some learners revealed that they had never questioned their doctors and on the occasions that they had not understood their doctors, many had been most reluctant to ask for clarification. Through group work and role playing, learners practised the questions they would ask their doctors. These activities had learners not only practise literacy skills but just as importantly develop the confidence and assertiveness they needed to speak with members of the medical profession. The new knowledge and identity resources found expression when they experienced better interactions with their medical practitioners, experiences that they often shared with the rest of the class. The learner group can generate practice fields in which the teacher need not be present. In one course, the teacher had facilitated out-of-class access to computers for a class of long-term unemployed, mature-aged women. The starting skill base ranged from no skills to some skills. A group of women became regular visitors to the computer room where they peer mentored one another. When asked about the benefits of the course they had experienced, a number of the women reported increased self-worth that came not only from realizing that they could learn new skills, but also from realizing that they could help their peers learn as well. In this case, the teacher provided the space and time in which new knowledge and identity resources developed without her direct intervention.

Potential New Networks TVET courses can result in learners accessing or becoming members of new networks that offer social, economic and cultural resources such as contacts, goods, services and knowledge that the learners had not previously enjoyed. Becoming members of new networks can lead learners to experiencing new sets of norms, values and beliefs which may change how they perceive themselves (identity resources) and others. The pedagogical strategies that teachers use can lead to their learners developing the desire, self-confidence, knowledge, contacts and skills which, in combination, are the ‘entry pass’ to the new networks. Introduction to the new networks may be mediated by teachers or other learners but entry may also be initiated by the learners themselves. Examples in our research of learners accessing new networks are many.

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Teachers can provide the entrée into new networks for employment purposes. Creating opportunities for their learners to meet prospective employers so that informal mentoring relationships can occur is one strategy that some teachers use to motivate learners and to provide the connections that may lead to future employment. Learners themselves may also take the initiative to reach out to new networks by taking their new knowledge and identity resources to the interactions. Employment is not the only motive for connections; civic and social motives can also be important. Knowledge about groups and the confidence to approach groups have led learners to volunteer in many capacities in their communities, or to join special-interest groups that they either did not know existed or were too afraid to approach. The story of the learner who turned dancer illustrates how new knowledge in a literacy course can produce a chain of events replete with social capital outcomes for many. In this case, a newspaper article discussed in class on the health benefits of dance caught the interest of a student originally from Hong Kong. After that discussion and unbeknown to his class, he started attending classes in modern dance with four different groups in the city, one each evening, four evenings a week. Several months later, in a class discussion on hobbies, he let his class know of his interest and provided a demonstration. This led to a group excursion of students and their teacher by train to one of the dance venues for a lesson. Two other students took up dancing classes as a consequence. The point of this story is to illustrate that teachers may inadvertently provide the catalyst for social capital outcomes to eventuate. However, they increase the chances of their students experiencing social capital outcomes by providing learning experiences of interest and relevance and by also providing the space and time for learners to interact. In this case, the classroom stimulus provided the point of interest which led one student to create new links with groups he had not encountered, and the opportunity to share his experience in class led others to follow suit.

Conclusion Constructing learners as members of networks draws our attention to the social capital outcomes that education and training may have for learners. The value of those social capital outcomes however, depends on the impact they have on the socioeconomic well-being of the learners themselves and the communities in which they live. While teachers through their choice of pedagogy may have some influence on how valuable such outcomes might be, the larger influences rest outside their control. Within the education system, the constraints of prescribed curriculum, assessment, time and resources inhibit the teacher’s capacity to capitalize fully on the social capital that participants bring to the learning experience. Furthermore, measurement of social capital outcomes, however they are defined, continues to be fraught with difficulties and either remains unacknowledged or placed in the ‘too hard basket’ and not counted. Also outside the teachers’ influence are the socio-economic and cultural contexts in which the learners are located and in which the impact of learning is

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realized. The increasing effort in Australia to build partnerships among community, government agencies, industry and education and training providers at the policy, resourcing and delivery levels of TVET is acknowledgement that the benefits of learning are only realized outside the formal learning context. In other words, they are realized in the interactions that learners have in the other networks available to them. To view learners in terms of networks does not constitute a new learning theory nor does it produce new theorizing about social capital. Rather, it serves as an illuminative perspective through which to revisit, resee and reinvigorate one’s own theories and practices to do with learning and teaching. It reminds us that humans are social beings whose capacity to draw on the resources available to them in society depends on the kinds of networks they access, the types of resources available to them through those networks and the nature of their interaction in those networks. The learning experienced in courses impacts on well-being, for better or for worse, when it changes one or more of these elements. Arguably the element that is most susceptible to change through learning is the knowledge and identity resources that the learner brings to the interaction. Constructing learners as members of networks is a strong reminder of Dewey’s (1956) plea to educators over a century ago to attend to the connections that learners have or could and should have with their fellow human beings. This perspective has teachers ask themselves pedagogy-related questions such as the following: • How do we account for our learners’ existing networks and the nature of their interactions in those networks in our teaching? • How do we create a network within the group that enhances learning? • How can we maximize the likelihood of having our learners transfer their learning into the rest of their lives? The responses to these questions contribute to shaping the interactions within the learner group, and to shaping or reshaping the interactions between the learners and others in networks outside the learner group. The work presented here used social capital as the path to investigating the role of networks in learning and teaching but this is just one possible path of several. Network analysis (Borgatti, Mehra, Brass, & Labianca, 2009; Granovetter, 1973) has huge potential for educators in better understanding networks in both formal and informal contexts. Information technology and communication (Andrews & Haythornthwaite, 2007) with its application to educational settings also holds great promise for enriching understanding of the role that our learners’ ‘real’ and ‘virtual’ networks have in learning. Research that draws together these various perspectives could help us to better apply to our learning contexts the often-quoted words of the English poet, John Donne. Although written almost 400 years ago, they are found, and fittingly so, in many places on the biggest network of all, the Internet: ‘No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main’ (Donne, 1624).

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References Allison, J., Gorringe, S., & Lacey, J. (2006). Building learning communities: Partnerships, social capital and VET performance. Adelaide: National Centre for Vocational Education Research. Andrews, R., & Haythornthwaite, C. (Eds.). (2007). The Sage book of e-learning research. London: Sage. Australian Bureau of Statistics. (2004). Measuring social capital: An Australian framework and indicators. Information paper (Catalogue No. 1378.0). Canberra: Author. Balatti, J., Black, S., & Falk, I. (2006). Reframing adult literacy and numeracy course outcomes: A social capital perspective. Adelaide: National Centre for Vocational Education Research. Balatti, J., Black, S., & Falk, I. (2009). A new social capital paradigm for adult literacy: Partnerships, policy and pedagogy. Adelaide: National Centre for Vocational Education Research. Balatti, J., & Falk, I. (2002). Socioeconomic contributions of adult learning to community: A social capital perspective. Adult Education Quarterly, 52(4), 281–298. Baron, S., Field, J., & Schuller, T. (2000). Social capital: Critical perspectives. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Bexley, E., Marginson, S., & Wheelahan, L. (2007). Social capital in theory and practice: The contribution of Victorian tertiary education in the ‘new economy’ disciplines of business studies and IT. Melbourne: University of Melbourne. Retrieved July 20, 2009, from http://www.cshe. unimelb.edu.au/people/bexley_docs/SocialCapitalNov2007.pdf Borgatti, S. P., Mehra, A., Brass, D., & Labianca, G. (2009). Network analysis in the social sciences. Science, 323(5916), 892–895. Coleman, J. S. (1988). Social capital in the creation of human capital. American Journal of Sociology, 94(Suppl.), S95–S120. Dewey, J. (1956). The child and the curriculum and the school and society (combined ed.). Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press. Dika, S., & Singh, K. (2002). Applications of social capital in educational literature: A critical synthesis. Review of Educational Research, 72(1), 31–60. Donne, J. (1624). Meditation XVII. Retrieved July 20, 2009, from http://www.online-literature. com/donne/409/ Falk, I. (2004). Sleight of hand: Job myths, literacy and social capital. In J. Lo Bianco & R. Wickert (Eds.), Australian policy activism in language and literacy (pp. 203–220). Melbourne: Language Australia. Falk, I., & Balatti, J. (2003). Role of identity in VET learning. In J. Searle, I. Yashin-Shaw, & D. Roebuck (Eds.), Enriching learning cultures: Vol.1. Proceedings of the 11th annual international conference on post-compulsory education and training (pp. 179–186). Brisbane: Australian Academic Press. Falk, I., Golding, B., & Balatti, J. (2000). Building communities: ACE, lifelong learning and social capital. Melbourne: Adult Community and Further Education Board. Falk, I., & Kilpatrick, S. (2000). What is social capital? A study of rural communities. Sociologia Ruralis, 40(1), 87–110. Farr, J. (2004). Social capital: A conceptual history. Political Theory, 32(1), 6–33. Goddard, R. (2003). Relational networks, social trust, and norms: A social capital perspective on students’ chances of academic success. Educational Evaluation and Policy Analysis, 25(1), 59–74. Granovetter, M. S. (1973). The strength of weak ties. American Journal of Sociology, 78(6), 1360–1380. Kearns, P. (2004). VET and social capital: A paper on the contribution of the VET sector to social capital in communities. Adelaide: National Centre for Vocational Education Research. Khattab, N. (2002). Social capital, students’ perceptions and educational aspirations among Palestinian students in Israel. Research in Education, 68, 77–88.

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Liou, T.-Y., & Chang, N.-Y. (2008). The applications of social capital theory in education. Hsiuping Journal of Humanities and Social Sciences, 11, 99–122. Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development. (1982). The OECD list of social indicators (OECD social indicator development programme). Paris: Author. Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development. (2001). The well-being of nations: The role of human and social capital. Paris: Author. Portes, A. (1998). Social capital: Its origins and applications in modern sociology. Annual Review of Sociology, 24(1), 1–24. Print, M., & Coleman, D. (2003). Towards understanding of social capital and citizenship education. Cambridge Journal of Education, 33(1), 123–149. Schuller, T., Preston, J., Hammond, C., Brassett-Grundy, A., & Bynner, J. (2004). The benefits of learning: The impact of education on health, family life and social capital. New York: RoutledgeFalmer. Smyth, J. (2000). Reclaiming social capital through critical teaching. The Elementary School Journal, 100(5), 491–511. Strawn, C. (2003). The influences of social capital on lifelong learning among adults who did not finish high school. Cambridge MA: National Centre for the Study of Adult Learning and Literacy, Harvard Graduate School of Education. Tett, L., Hall, S., Maclachlan, K., Thorpe, G., Edwards, V., & Garside, L. (2006). Evaluation of the Scottish adult literacy and numeracy initiative. Edinburgh: University of Edinburgh. Retrieved July 20, 2009, from www.scotland.gov.uk/Publications/2006/03/20102141/0 Willis, P. (2007). Transformative pedagogy for social capital. Australian Journal of Adult Learning, 47(3), 349–378.

Chapter 5

Competence as Collective Process Nick Boreham

Introduction Probably since the beginning of human existence, teamwork has been an essential element in the labour process. In recent years, it has been given even greater emphasis by a series of official enquiries into public sector disasters, many of which have identified as underlying causes lapses of coordination and communication between team members. In parallel with these enquiries, the UK government has encouraged the entire range of public services, from the NHS to education, to adopt ‘competency frameworks’ and to base initial and continuing professional training and development on the statements of competence they contain. The present chapter focuses on some theoretical and practical problems this creates, posing the research question ‘What is occupational competence?’ In reply, it criticizes the prevailing British approach to occupational competence on grounds of the individualistic bias that underpins these frameworks. It then seeks to extend current theoretical perspectives about the nature of competence by outlining a theory of collective competence (Boreham, 2004). In the main part of the chapter, this theory is tested by analyzing a well-documented account of a major disaster. The event in question is the Mann Gulch forest fire, which was researched over several decades by Maclean (1992). It would be fair to claim that the UK’s national training policy undervalues and even undermines collective work. The concept of competence that underpins today’s competency frameworks was developed by the UK government in the 1980s and 1990s as part of its policy to reform vocational education and training for intermediate level occupations. In those days, completing a traditional apprenticeship led to membership of a self-regulating body of crafts- or trades-people; to be occupationally competent was to enact the body’s collective norms, practices and knowledge base. However, the crafts and trades had become regarded by right wing political parties as occupational interest groups accustomed to holding employers N. Boreham (B) Faculty of Education, University of Glasgow, Glasgow, G3 6NH, UK e-mail: [email protected]

R. Catts et al. (eds.), Vocational Learning, Technical and Vocational Education and Training: Issues, Concerns and Prospects 14, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-1539-4_5,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2011

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to ransom and blocking industrial progress. In the drive to create a more flexible labour market after the Conservatives came to power in 1979, government deregulated the crafts and trades in the sense that the lengthy progression from apprentice to master and subsequent employment in a closed shop was replaced by an open labour market where qualifications were discrete ‘units of competence’, each separately certificated, which could be acquired on the job in a few weeks or months. Vocational qualifications thus became independent of the craft and trade bodies whose membership practices had hitherto defined occupational competence. The big change was the modification of longstanding ways of thinking about what competence meant. The notion that occupational competence was to participate in a self-regulating craft or trade was consigned to history. Instead, individuals were expected to make their own way through a flexible labour market, gaining qualifications in the form of statements of competence as they went. In the new national (and Scottish) vocational qualifications designed for this purpose, competence was defined as the outcome of an individual’s performance in the workplace, the outcomes being specified by representatives of the employers in each industry. In the deregulated, flexible, neoliberal open-market economy introduced in the 1980s, it was intended that individuals would take control of their own learning careers and be hired, fired and hopefully rehired on the basis of their individual ownership of these competencies. Vocational educators (especially in the UK) were quick to express dissatisfaction with the neoliberal redefinition of competence, which many regarded as restrictive, reductive, limiting and even damaging to the educational process. The official definition of vocational competence in the UK limits the meaning of the word to a much narrower one than the rich complex of meanings the word had previously encompassed ever since it emerged in the sixteenth century from its Middle English roots. The Oxford English Dictionary definition of the word ‘competent’ is ‘having the necessary ability, knowledge or skill to do something successfully’. This opens up many layers of meaning, work processes as well as outcomes, and collective modes of performance as well as individual ones. The traditional definition is redolent with connotations of organizational and collective factors, such as culture, collaboration, synergy, teamwork, networks, partnerships, alliances and relationships. In reality, most kinds of work consist of many interlinked activities, some of which are carried out by individuals and some of which are carried out collectively. The full meaning of competence is schematized in Fig. 5.1. The four quadrants cover individual and collective processes and individual and collective outcomes. The weakness of the official definition of competence that underpins present-day competency frameworks is that it focuses on individual outcomes – the bottom lefthand quadrant. The other three quadrants are marginalized and consequently they tend to be under-represented in vocational training and assessment. This chapter seeks to answer the question ‘What is competence?’ And the answer is – it is not just the bottom left quadrant in Fig. 5.1, as the UK government and the national competency frameworks assume, but all parts of Fig. 5.1. So the other three quadrants need to be reinstated. For reasons of space, however, we will focus on collective processes, the top right quadrant, which is the aspect of competence most

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Fig. 5.1 An extended family of competence concepts

collective outcomes

collective processes

– e.g. a team wins a football match

– e.g. pooling information in the workplace

individual outcomes

individual processes

– e.g. typing at 50 words per minute

– e.g. reasoning scientifically about the rationale for a procedure

seriously overlooked in contemporary theory and practice. The key assumptions of the chapter are as follows: • Competence is not an objective attribute like height and weight, but is socially constructed – to be competent implies being recognized as such by the members of the community to which one belongs, and being accepted as a participant in the customs and practices of that community. For this reason, any analysis of competence must situate competence in the culture of the workplace. • Competence is context-dependent – to be competent is to be competent in a particular setting. One might be a competent teacher in one school but not another, due to differences in the way one’s professional relationships are formed with the two sets of colleagues and pupils. This implies that considerations of competence must take into account the complex interactions between the individual and the people and objects with which he/she interacts in the workplace itself. • Competence can be an attribute of both individual and collective activity: lone practitioners, teams or entire organizations. As argued elsewhere (Boreham, 2004), the UK’s neoliberal economy is accompanied by a strong cultural bias towards individualism. But there is as much sense in asking whether a construction firm is competent as a firm to take on a building project, as to enquire about the competencies of its bricklayers, electricians and carpenters as individuals. For a successful outcome to the project depends on the culture and organization of the firm as much as on the competencies of its individual employees (Boreham, 2008). • Most people’s work is a complex of interlinked activities, some of which are performed individually, and some of which are performed collectively. In the

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morning a technician in a power plant might use his or her individual competences, such as taking readings from an instrument and recording them in a database. In the afternoon, however, that technician might be called to attend a meeting on how to improve the plant’s safety record. If this is structured as a team activity, then its success will depend on the competence of the team as a collective. Individual and collective competencies are often finely interwoven and interdependent. For example, in the early stages of a project, teams may temporarily disband to enable information gathering to be undertaken by individual members. In later stages, they regroup and use the pooled information in various kinds of collaborative activity (Hinsz, 1990). In such ways, there is a complex interplay between individual and collective enactments of competence.

The Triadic Theory of Collective Competence The triadic theory of collective competence fills out the top right-hand quadrant in Fig. 5.1. It asserts that, to be collectively competent, a group, team or task force must be able to enact the following processes: • Make collective sense of events in the workplace– construct a shared understanding of the object the team wishes to achieve. • Develop and access a collective knowledge base– to achieve that object through coordinated activity, the group must hold certain knowledge assets in common. These must be relevant to the situation with which the group is dealing, and they must be accessible to all members of the group. • Maintain a sense of interdependency– most work groups are organized around a division of labour. However, this gives rise to different perspectives on the common object of the activity, and in consequence there is a natural tendency for the group to fragment. To maintain a state of collective competence, the group needs to find ways of preventing such fragmentation. One way is by developing a feeling-sense of interdependency – a shared understanding that every time one individual acts, his or her action depends on actions previously taken by other members of the group, and that his or her action will have consequences for others. The remainder of this chapter explains the triadic theory of collective competence by locating it in previous theory, and tests it by applying it to an iconic event in a complex, dynamic working environment where success depends on teamwork – fighting a forest fire.

The Mann Gulch Fire In the summer of 1949, lightning struck a group of dead trees on the south side of Mann Gulch in the State of Montana, a remote and almost inaccessible ravine which runs between lofty mountains down to the Missouri river in the USA. The lightning

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started a fire which spread to the forest on the south side of the ravine. The US Forest Service maintained a fire fighting base in the nearby town of Missoula which deployed teams of ‘smokejumpers’ to parachute close to fires such as this, and then to clear vegetation to prevent the fire spreading. This was backbreaking work, sawing down trees and hacking out shrubs and grass with a mattock for hours on end until an effective firebreak was constructed. As soon as the Mann Gulch fire was reported, a team of 15 smokejumpers assembled at the Missoula base. Led by a foreman by the name of Wagner Dodge and his second-in-command William Hellman, they took off in a Dakota aircraft and parachuted into the Gulch. Tragically, within 90 minutes of the parachute drop, most of the men had died in the flames or had suffered burns from which they died the next day. Almost at once, the incident became the subject of an official enquiry by the United States Forest Service – the ‘Board of Review’ – and has been the subject of numerous studies since. The Mann Gulch incident is revisited in the present chapter for two main reasons: first, because the records provide an unusually detailed account of the group dynamics of fire fighting, and second, because the highly documented story of Mann Gulch enables the triadic theory of collective competence to be tested against data from the real world. The facts of the case were established by the solitary efforts of Norman Maclean, a professor of English Literature in the University of Chicago. In an entirely unofficial capacity, Maclean carried out painstaking investigations into the Mann Gulch fire for nearly 40 years, culminating in the posthumous publication of his bestseller Young Men and Fire (Maclean, 1992). Maclean was well suited to undertake this self-imposed task. He grew up in Montana, worked there as a forester as a young man and had even fought forest fires. He also happened to be present in the area when the Mann Gulch disaster happened, and commenced investigations there and then. Over subsequent years, he reconstructed the tragedy that overtook the smokejumpers by tracing and interviewing the few survivors, building a psychological profile of the foreman Wagner Dodge, retrieving official reports which had been lost in national archives, analysing old photographs, riding horseback over the rough ground in his summer vacations (it is almost impossible to move across the terrain on foot), plotting the position of artefacts abandoned decades before by the smokejumpers, consulting experts in the behaviour of wildfires and eventually modelling the progress of the Mann Gulch fire mathematically. In this way, he was able to construct a minute-by-minute narrative of the smokejumpers’ movements in the ravine and the progress of the fire which finally overtook them. He also reconstructed the interpersonal dynamics of the tragedy, and it is this aspect of the story that provides data about collective competence. Soon after the smokejumpers landed in the ravine, they met up with a forest ranger who had been fighting the fire single handed for several hours. He and Foreman Dodge went forward to assess the level of threat. Dodge didn’t like what he saw, so he ordered his squad to march down the north side of the ravine towards the Missouri river. This was the side opposite the fire. Suddenly, however, the fire intensified in what is known to firefighters as a ‘blow-up’ and jumped across the ravine ahead of them. Driven by a powerful wind, it began burning its way through the forest towards them, a wall of flames sometimes 200 feet high. As soon as he

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spotted this change in the fire’s behaviour, Dodge ordered the squad to turn on their heels and follow him at the double back up the ravine away from danger. After a few minutes, he ordered them to drop the heavy equipment they were carrying, to lighten their load. From a human relations perspective, the hub of the Mann Gulch disaster is the catastrophic change in group dynamics that occurred next. At first, the squad held together well, running in orderly single file behind the foreman, moving steadily up the ravine and away from danger. Suddenly, however, the group lost its cohesion. The trigger was an act performed by Dodge soon after he led the line of men out of the forest and into an expanse of waist-high grass. What he did was recounted to the Board of Review by one of the survivors: I saw him bend over and light a fire with a match. I thought, With the fire almost on our back, what the hell is the boss doing lighting another fire in front of us? (Maclean, 1992, p. 74).

When the line of men caught up with him, Dodge urged them to walk with him into the newly lit flames. Already, the flames of Dodge’s fire were spreading quickly through the dry grass. The men’s reaction was a mixture of anger and incomprehension, and no one obeyed this seemingly crazy order. ‘We thought he must have gone nuts,’ one of the survivors told Maclean later (1992, p. 75). Someone, allegedly the second in command William Hellman, whose official role was to ensure that everybody obeyed the foreman’s orders, shouted ‘To hell with that, I’m getting out of here!’ (Maclean, 1992, pp. 94–95). With this, the squad broke ranks and each man ran frantically to save his skin. It seems that everyone was trying to reach the ridge above the ravine. They knew that on the tops of mountain ridges, vegetation tends to be sparse and the prevailing winds are moderated by crosscurrents. Consequently, there is a better chance of dodging a fire up there – this was an escape tactic the men had been taught. But Dodge couldn’t understand why they were running. Later, he told the Board of Review how amazed he felt: ‘They didn’t seem to pay any attention. That is the part I didn’t understand. They seemed to have something on their minds – all headed in one direction’ (Maclean, 1992, pp. 99–100). With horrible inevitability, the fire overtook the fleeing men one by one as they scrambled up the side of the ravine. Within a few minutes, almost all had either been asphyxiated or fatally burned. Only three survived: the foreman Dodge and two young smokejumpers, Robert Sallee and Walter Rumsey. The last two managed to reach the ridge above the ravine, where they took refuge on a patch of rocky ground and dodged the flames sweeping over it. They attributed their escape to their unusual athletic prowess, which had enabled them to run straight up the 76 per cent incline to safety. The other members of the squad, not quite as fit, had to angle their way up the side of the ravine and were overtaken by the ravaging flames. Dodge survived by a different tactic. He lay down in the burnt area left by the fire he’d set and covered his face with a wet handkerchief. The approaching fire parted

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round the burnt area, and although the updraught lifted Dodge bodily off the ground several times, he escaped unharmed. That was the reason he had lighted the fire. It was an escape fire.

A Lack of Collective Competence? Every forest fire expert consulted by Maclean in the course of his investigation told him that the squad would have survived if the men had sheltered in the burnt-out centre of the escape fire. Why didn’t they? What went wrong was that the squad disintegrated as a social structure. Each man struck out on his own for the ridge above, and the consequence for all but two of them was disaster. Today, the US Forest Service cites the Mann Gulch disaster as a major learning experience in its corporate history. It could never happen again, the Service claims, because today the firefighters are better equipped with fireproof clothing, walkie-talkies and have been trained to take evasive action – as individuals. One wonders, however, whether the Service has got to the bottom of the problem. In the following pages, it is argued that the fundamental failure at Mann Gulch was a failing of collective competence, and that whatever the value in giving firefighters better equipment, and training them in individual survival techniques, future safety could be enhanced even further by giving attention to the collective dimension of performance.

Making Collective Sense of Events in the Workplace The immediate cause of the disaster was what Weick (1993) calls a loss of sense making. At the stage when the squad was still running at the double behind Dodge, away from the fire, they understood what they were doing. However, the circumstances changed when they moved into the grassland. A forest fire moves many times faster through grass than it does through forest, and to make matters worse, the grass in which they found themselves was tinder dry. Dodge knew that once the flames started racing after them through the grass, running was no longer an option. But the other smokejumpers failed to grasp the need for a change of tactic and could not understand what Dodge was doing, lighting a fire. When Maclean interviewed the only two survivors (Dodge himself having died of natural causes soon after the tragedy), both reported their complete failure to comprehend the purpose of the escape fire. One said ‘When Dodge first set the fire I did not understand that he wanted us boys to wait a few seconds then get inside the burnt-out grass area for protection from the main fire’ (Maclean, 1992, p. 99). The other said that initially he could not understand what the fire was for, and that even when he reached safety on the ridge, he still thought it was intended to slow the main fire down. Only Dodge understood its purpose. Thus among the only three people whose state of mind that day can be known, there were three mutually inconsistent perceptions of the goal of their activity.

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Making collective sense of a situation involves, at minimum, constructing a shared concept of the object of joint activity. In all work except the most routine, the situation confronting a group usually contains contradictions that generate uncertainty, doubt and fear. The principal contradictions in the situation confronting the firefighters at Mann Gulch were (1) when the smokejumpers were deploying to encircle the fire, they saw that the fire was encircling them; (2) when they were running for their lives from the fire, their leader called a halt, lit a fire and asked them to walk into the flames. In order to focus on a common object of activity and maintain unity, a group needs to do a lot of work to resolve contradictions such as these. According to the triadic theory of collective competence, this work is performed through dialogue and the maintenance of a ‘collective mind’. Many social scientists have given accounts of the phenomenon of collective mind. Leont’ev (1978) calls it collective consciousness of the object of the group’s activity: ‘consciousness is co-knowing, but only in the sense that individual consciousness may exist only in the presence of social consciousness and of language that is its real substrate’ (p. 60). Gustavsson (2001) calls it interactive consciousness: ‘The rules of the network of activities in the organization connect people: each member knows what needs to be done in relation to what others in the organization are doing and thus a group consciousness is created relying on the predetermined activities’ (p. 360). Weick and Roberts (1993) call it ‘heedful interrelating’. It is clear that the smokejumper squad lacked a common mind in the sense just explored. There was manifestly no intersubjectivity, no co-construction of meaning – when externally imposed discipline collapsed, the men lapsed into selfabsorption, as Dodge’s comment reveals: ‘They didn’t seem to pay any attention . . . they seemed to have something on their minds . . .’ (Maclean, 1992, pp. 99–100). In short, they could not make collective sense of their predicament. Czarniawska (1997, p. 24) identifies the key activity by which work groups make sense of their predicaments as narrating. On her view, the uncertainty of the situation poses the problem of how people ought to act, and this in turn creates negative emotions such as anxiety which makes the people involved question their identity. Research by Eide (2000) suggests that a typical response to challenging situations such as these is a spontaneous discussion between workers. This is not primarily a search for a technical solution to the problem, but an exchange of feelings about the predicament, an attempt to define the boundaries of one’s occupational role in that situation, and ultimately an attempt to preserve self-identity. What happens is something like this: the challenging situation provides material for narratives or stories; these are exchanged within the group; and according to Eide, the collective reinterpretation of these stories is how the group makes sense of what is happening. In the situation which confronted the smokejumpers, the initial experiences of the individuals involved were unintelligible – the sight of smoke rising beyond a fold in the ground on the side of the ravine where fire wasn’t supposed to be; the foreman who was leading them away from the fire stopping to light a fire in front of them. The work of language in making sense of bewildering phenomena such as these

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begins by attaching signs to the raw phenomenal experiences. From this, it follows that the ultimate precondition of a group’s capacity to make sense collectively is the extent to which it possesses a capacity for narrating. This is because the signs that constitute language are public, enabling personal experience to be reinterpreted by calling on a vast reservoir of collective experience. Part of the reason why the Mann Gulch squad did not engage in dialogue must be that, as a group, it had a very fragile structure. In fact, this was the very first time the squad had operated as a face-to-face group. The smokejumpers were casual employees, mostly students at high school or local universities, working their way through school or college, bolstered by a supply of unemployed men from the nearby town. They were all signed up as casual employees of the Forest Service and continued their everyday lives in classrooms, bars and on street corners until the next fire, when they would be called to the Missoula centre. Each jump squad was put together arbitrarily from the list of casual employees, and if an individual was not available, the next man was called. Thus the squads did not have a fixed membership. Few of the Mann Gulch squad had worked together before, and few had worked under Dodge. As Maclean discovered, the smokejumpers ‘didn’t know much about him . . . and he knew almost nothing about them’ (p. 40). Apparently, Dodge had only previously set eyes on 3 of the 14 members of his crew (p. 103). To make matters worse, Dodge was famously taciturn, holding an unrivalled reputation for hardly ever telling anyone anything. ‘Dodge has a characteristic in him – it is hard to tell what he is thinking’, one of the Mann Gulch survivors told the Board of Review (Maclean, 1992, p. 64). Maclean profiled Dodge psychologically as ‘aloof’ – a man who ‘believed on principle in keeping his thoughts to himself’ (p. 103). In such a squad, the languaging work Czarniawska and Eide identify as crucial for collective sense making was hardly likely to take place.

Developing and Accessing a Collective Knowledge Base For effective languaging to occur, a group must possess a shared knowledge base. Research on the use of language in the workplace indicates that organizations often develop specialist sub-languages tailored to the specific events that occur in their domains of work (von Krogh & Roos, 1995). Concepts of the work process formed in this way are maintained over time, and members of the organization continue to bring them up in their conversation and thinking: ‘a lawyer speaks from the tradition of his [or her] law firm . . . a production engineer speaks from the tradition of his [or her] manufacturing organization; a doctor speaks from the tradition of his [or her] professional organization . . .’ (von Krogh & Roos, 1995, p. 101). This concept of an organizational knowledge base existing over and above the knowledge possessed by individual members is examined by Lyles and Schwenck (1992). They link organizational knowledge to organizational identity, suggesting that the latter depends on the organization’s capacity to develop a ‘knowledge structure’ which can be maintained on a more enduring basis than the individual knowledge bases of the members. As von Krogh, Roos, and Slocum (1996) put it, ‘Individuals may

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leave the group (for example, a physicist may retire from his department and field) but the knowledge of the group does not vanish’ (p. 178). To be useful, an organizational knowledge base should contain ‘game plans’ for recognizing, interpreting and dealing with the challenges that confront the organization; these game plans must be common knowledge among members of the organization, and they must be maintained over time (and ideally, continuously updated) despite the coming and going of individual members (Boreham, 2000). Several factors seem to have contributed to the lack of a shared knowledge base of this kind in the Mann Gulch squad. First, there was a strong boundary between permanently employed supervisory staff like Dodge and Hellman (the layer in the hierarchy known to smokejumpers as ‘the overhead’) and the casual employees who formed the bulk of the squad. The former apparently received extensive training but the latter had only received a 3-week course. At this course, the casual employees were supposed to work alongside the overhead to get to know them, but Dodge hadn’t attended the course because he had been assigned other duties. This degree of boundary maintenance presumably meant that crucial information held by the overhead was not shared with the other men. The probable reason Dodge changed tactics when the squad emerged from the forest is that he knew that a forest fire moves much more rapidly through grass than dense forest, and that running away is no longer possible. But this knowledge was apparently not shared with the group, and was therefore not available to support the collective sense making that was essential if the squad was to take intelligent collective action. Moreover, whilst the technique of the escape fire had been practised for centuries by Native Americans, in the 1949 Forest Service the technique was apparently known only to Dodge. Escape fires were not a procedure recognized by the Service; senior staff were surprised when they heard that Dodge had used one. It is not clear how he had learned about escape fires. One possibility is that, since stories about the ‘plains Indians’ were part of the popular culture of the day, Dodge might have gleaned his knowledge from bar room yarns and fireside chat. Nonetheless, the boundary between the permanent staff and the casual employees was impermeable as far as the sharing of this information was concerned. More critically, the smokejumpers’ training was highly individualistic. It focused on personal strategies for avoiding being caught in an advancing fire – ways of acting ‘swiftly, surely and on their own, in the face of danger’ (Maclean, 1992, p. 219, emphasis added). These included running up to a ridge where it is easier to dodge flames. When the group structure disintegrated, it was precisely this rule that they seem to have been following. The emphasis on individual competencies in their training was reinforced by the fact that the on-the-job learning provided for them mostly consisted of working individually on forest ‘projects’ such as clearing bushes. Thus, when confronted by the contradictions in the Mann Gulch situation, the men had neither collective consciousness nor collective knowledge, and they had been given little or no training in making a collective response to a threatening situation. The collective knowledge that underpins collective competence can be modelled as a network. Networks have been defined as ‘multiple, cross-cutting sets

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of relations sustained by conversational dynamics within social settings’ (Mische, 2003, p. 259). Formally, a network can be pictured as a set of nodes (actors) linked by multiple relations and delimited by boundaries. The knowledge is embodied in the interactions of the actors and the artefacts (language, ‘war stories’, tools, etc.) Different nodes contribute different kinds of knowledge, and the network develops an awareness which can guide collaborative activity. The operation of a network of collective knowledge is illustrated by the investigations of Weick and Roberts (1993) of the work of flight deck crew on aircraft carriers, where an important part of the crew’s knowledge was embedded in the patterns of heedful interrelating which characterized their collective activity. When professional activity is collective, the amount of knowledge available in a group cannot be measured by the sum total of the knowledge possessed by its individual members. A more appropriate measure would be the richness of connections between the nodes. The knowledge underpinning collective competence can then be increased by improving the connections. One way in which a collective knowledge base might come into existence, over and above the individual packets of knowledge possessed by the group’s members, is by reaching agreement on various interpretations of common experiences (Daft & Weick, 1984). An instructive contrast to the Mann Gulch case is provided by a study of forest fire fighters in the south of France by Rogalski, Plat, and Antolin-Glenn (2002). This research found that the teams possessed a shared ‘model of tactical reasoning’ which enabled them to anticipate each other’s actions and interpret each other’s messages. The model developed naturally within the teams as a result of experience, but after it was identified by the researchers, it was codified and used by trainers to coach new teams in simulators. In comparison, the Mann Gulch squad lacked collective knowledge of this kind, and seems to have lacked the characteristics of a network, especially ‘cross-cutting relations sustained by conversational dynamics’.

A Sense of Interdependency According to Schein’s (1992) analysis of organizational culture, most social structures contain sub-systems (sub-groups or individuals). The problem is that the goal of an individual sub-system might not be aligned with the goal of the organization as a whole (Schein, 1992). In Mann Gulch, the squad disintegrated into one-person sub-systems, each absorbed in his own attempt to survive. As one of the survivors, Walter Rumsey, told Maclean, when he struck out for the ridge ‘I was thinking only of my hide’ (Maclean, 1992, p. 96). To combat this fragmentation, the organization needs to maintain a sense of interdependency. Lacking such a feeling-sense, the members of a group or organization might act without regard for each other’s needs, as happened at Mann Gulch. When Dodge urged the squad to follow him into his escape fire, the impression of the group dynamics we get from Maclean’s account is a total lack of any sense of interdependency. The following incident, when one of the fleeing men became

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exhausted, is revealing. The two survivors interviewed by Maclean both overtook this man, and as Maclean relates, He was sitting with his heavy pack on and was making no effort to take it off, and Rumsey and Sallee wondered numbly why he didn’t, but no one stopped to suggest he get on his feet or give him a hand to help him up (Maclean, 1992, p. 73).

The squad had fragmented into a collection of individuals. The alleged cry of the second in command, ‘To hell with that – I’m getting out of here’ destroyed the last vestige of interdependency.

Conclusions The Mann Gulch squad lacked the competence to act appropriately in the circumstances. What they appear to have lacked was not individual competences, but competence at the collective level. If they had been able to make collective sense of their predicament at the critical moment when they moved out of forest into grassland, if they had possessed a shared knowledge base which could have enabled such sense making to take place, and if they had been able to maintain a sense of interdependency, they might have stuck together as a group, sheltered within the burnt-out area of the escape fire and survived. Instead, they disintegrated into a scattering of individuals with different perceptions of reality who had relapsed to the individualistic strategy of every man running to save his own hide. As already mentioned, one of the underlying precursors of the tragedy was the individualistic culture which dictated how the smokejumping squads were organized and trained in 1949. Each squad was an arbitrary collection of individuals who hardly knew each other; each man had been provided with individual competencies (how to use his tools and ‘every man for himself’ survival tactics); all the tactical knowledge was concentrated in the foreman (who hardly communicated with the group, other than to issue terse orders) and the whole organization was held together by a fragile kind of externally imposed discipline – the foreman led the men in single file, shouting back orders and the second in command kept the rear, repeating the orders and checking that the men were obeying them. As soon as this system collapsed, which it did when the second in command ran off, there was nothing to sustain the group as a group, and the men relapsed to what they had been trained in – individual life-saving tactics and the personal sprint to the nearest ridge. Why did the smokejumpers’ training emphasize the individual dimension of competence and ignore the collective dimension? One possible basic explanation is that it reflected the American national culture. The notion of a continuum of national cultures ranging from individualist to collectivist was introduced into cultural studies by Hofstede (1980). At one end of this continuum, societies with an individualistic culture tend to treat the self as the most significant social unit. In these societies, high value is placed on the development during the early years of personality traits which differentiate a child from his or her peers. These societies value self-help, self-directed learning and personal achievement throughout the lifespan.

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At the other end of the continuum, societies with a collectivist culture treat the group to which one belongs, such as the family or the work team, as the most significant social unit. They place high value on the subordination of personal wishes to the priorities of the group, and encourage intra-group harmony rather than individual ambition. The USA and the UK are prominent among countries with strongly individualistic cultures, and as argued by Boreham (2004), this cultural bias is reflected in national approaches to the definition of competence and training. Since 1949, there has been much interest in group dynamics and teambuilding. Novel approaches to the organization and leadership of teams have been developed, and many of these can be useful in building competence at the collective as well as the individual level. One example is the emerging technique of crew resource management (CRM). This originated in the aviation industry and has been extended to other occupational domains including medicine, but its potential application is even wider. CRM was conceived from the outset as a way of promoting competence at the collective level. It developed out of the analysis of flight recorders and cockpit voice recorders after aviation near-misses and crashes. The data indicated that accidents did not result solely from an individual’s lack of skill, or malfunctioning equipment, but often from the failure of crews to respond effectively as a crew to problematic situations. In an attempt to address this problem, CRM places its emphasis on collective rather than individual performance. Its main aims are to develop the capacity of a crew to construct a shared mental model of problematic situations encountered in flight, to develop a participative approach to planning and deciding how to deal with these incidents and to establish ongoing interactions before the flight. CRM has been defined as ‘a process of interaction between crew members, whereby each individual is empowered and encouraged to contribute to the overall task of the team’ (Royal Aeronautical Society, 1999, para. 14). It is implemented during the period of preflight briefing conducted by the captain before the passengers and/or cargo are loaded and the aircraft takes off. It is thus coterminous with the work situation in which competence has to be exercised; there is no expectation that, having participated in one such briefing, an employee could be considered ‘competent’ at dealing with incidents on future occasions with a different crew. At the heart of the concept of collective competence assumed by CRM is each crew member’s awareness of the emotional states of all the other members of the crew who have assembled for that particular flight. CRM is designed to create the inexpressible but tangible awareness of being dependent on one another as collectively they embark on the momentous activity of taking an aircraft off the ground. Ginnett (1993) describes the state CRM tries to achieve as one in which the crew are ready to enact any of these four exchanges: ‘(1) I need to talk to you; (2) I listen to you; (3) I need you to talk to me; or even (4) I expect you to talk to me’ (p. 88). In other words the focus is on the languaging which is emphasized in the triadic theory of collective competence outlined above, something that was notably missing in the way the Mann Gulch team interacted with each other. Important in the development of CRM has been the recognition that this feelingstate must be shared across the conventional barriers which separate different

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categories of employee. Originally conceived as cockpit resource management, CRM was redefined as crew resource management to include the cabin crew, and then further extended to include the gate staff – for in reality, all these employees must be competent as a whole if the safety of the flight is to be optimized. Unfortunately, however, whilst there have been notable advances in the facilitation of group work and teambuilding, there has not been an equivalent advance in the way trainers construe the term ‘competence’, which as argued above, tends to be deployed in the UK and USA in a narrowly individualistic way. If, as many argue, our perceptions and identities are wholly or partially constituted in our use of language, then this narrow usage will restrict our capacity to tackle issues of competence to the best advantage. A change in our attitude to languaging in the workplace is needed to take account of the realities of contemporary work-related learning. Do we need the triadic theory of collective competence outlined in this chapter? Yes, because the current theory-in-use in the UK’s approach to vocational education and training – the bottom left hand quadrant in Fig. 5.1 – narrows our vision in a dangerous way. All four quadrants need to be taken into account, and using the word ‘collective’ to qualify ‘competence’ is a linguistic practice which gives the fuller sense of the latter word equal illocutionary force to the already well-established individualistic use. The triadic theory of collective competence seeks to provide a rationale for such usage. Hopefully, it can strengthen the way vocational education and training tackles the problems of ensuring that employees are competent to deal with the hazards of complex, dynamic work situations.

References Boreham, N. C. (2000). Collective professional knowledge. Medical Education, 34, 505–506. Boreham, N. (2004). A theory of collective competence: Challenging the neo-liberal individualisation of performance at work. British Journal of Educational Studies, 52, 5–17. Boreham, N. (2008). Organisational learning as structuration: An analysis of worker-led organisational enquiries in an oil refinery. In W. J. Nijhof & L. F. M. Nieuwenhuis (Eds.), The learning potential of the workplace (pp. 227–240). Rotterdam: Sense Publishers. Czarniawska, B. (1997). Narrating: The dramas of institutional identity. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Daft, R. L., & Weick, K. E. (1984). Toward a model of organisations as interpretation systems. Academy of Management Review, 9, 284–295. Eide, D. (2000). Learning across interactions. Paper presented at the 16th EGOS Colloquium, July 2000, Helsinki School of Economics and Business Administration, Finland. Ginnett, R. C. (1993). Crews as groups: Their formation and their leadership. In E. L. Wiener, B. G. Kanki, & R. L. Heimreich (Eds.), Cockpit resource management (pp. 71–98). San Diego: Academic. Gustavsson, B. (2001). Towards a transcendent epistemology of organisations. Journal of Organisational Change Management, 14, 352–378. Hinsz, V. B. (1990). Cognitive and consensus processes in group recognition memory performance. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 59, 705–718. Hofstede, G. (1980). Culture’s consequences: International differences in work-related values. Beverly Hills: Sage. von Krogh, G., & Roos, J. (1995). Organisational epistemology. London: Routledge.

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von Krogh, G., Roos, J., & Slocum, K. (1996). An essay on corporate epistemology. In G. von Krogh & J. Roos (Eds.), Managing knowledge (pp. 157–183). London: Sage. Leont’ev, A. N. (1978). Activity, consciousness and personality. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice Hall. Lyles, M. A., & Schwenck, C. R. (1992). Top management, strategy and organisational knowledge structures. Journal of Management Studies, 29, 155–174. Maclean, N. (1992). Young men and fire. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Mische, A. (2003). Cross talk in movements. In M. Diani & D. McAdam (Eds.), Social movements and networks (pp. 258–280). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rogalski, J., Plat, M., & Antolin-Glenn, P. (2002). Training for collective competence in rare and unpredictable situations. In N. Boreham, R. Samurçay, & M. Fischer (Eds.), Work process knowledge (pp. 134–147). London: Routledge. Royal Aeronautical Society. (1999). Crew resource management. A paper by the CRM standing group of the Royal Aeronautical Society, London, October 1999. Schein, E. (1992). Organisational culture and leadership (2nd ed.). San Francisco: Jossey Bass. Weick, K. (1993). The collapse of sense making in organisations: The Mann Gulch disaster. Administrative Science Quarterly, 38, 628–652. Weick, K. E., & Robert, K. H. (1993). Collective mind in organisations: Heedful interrelating on flight decks. Administrative Science Quarterly, 38, 357–381.

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Cross-Cultural Perspectives of Vocational Learning

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Indigenous Dot Com: E-Learning in Australian Indigenous Workforce Development and Engagement Ruth Wallace and Rhonda Appo

Introduction Situated learning theories provide a framework for recognizing the role of relationships and context in negotiating training that improves Indigenous workforce and community development outcomes. The integration of e-learning has functioned to introduce tools and processes to improve educational outcomes by connecting to people, their worlds and industries. Over the period 2005–2007, a series of projects was conducted across Australia to explore the potential of e-learning with Indigenous people to improve engagement in vocational training. These projects were designed to improve the educational and employment outcomes of Indigenous people through engagement in e-learning development and activities. The projects varied considerably in their context, use of e-learning tools and content. An analysis of a range of case studies over the programme’s life demonstrates the underlying principles that informed their development and success. The key lessons for embedding e-learning into effective learning strategies are identified in order to inform and contribute positively to engagement and employment outcomes for Indigenous people Australia-wide. The situatedness of Indigenous people’s learning, and the role of e-learning processes and tools in increasing the presence of that context in learning experiences are discussed. The discussion concludes with an overview of key considerations in implementing e-learning that contributes to the economic, social and cultural livelihoods of Indigenous people. In particular the importance of Indigenous people in leading innovative change is noted as core in realizing the potential of e-learning.

R. Wallace (B) School of Education, Charles Darwin University, Darwin, NT 0909, Australia e-mail: [email protected]

R. Catts et al. (eds.), Vocational Learning, Technical and Vocational Education and Training: Issues, Concerns and Prospects 14, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-1539-4_6,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2011

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Background The role of e-learning in a knowledge economy is recognized by the European Union’s approaches to lifelong e-learning that use ‘e-learning for promoting digital literacy and thereby contribute to strengthening social cohesion and personal development and fostering intercultural dialogue’ (Decision No. 2318/EC of the European Parliament and of the Council, December 2003). The potential of e-learning to improve educational and employment outcomes has been adopted in Australia and particularly by Indigenous learners ready for a positive learning experience in the formal education system that has an impact on vocational opportunities. The Australian Flexible Learning Framework (AFLF), through the Indigenous Engagement project, funded a range of projects Australia-wide. The AFLF Indigenous Engagement project was designed in principle to strengthen the role of Indigenous people and the communities in which they live in order to influence the provision of vocational education and training in very remote, remote, provincial and urban contexts. The project aimed to 1. build on successful projects and outcomes which will enable e-learning to become an integral part of the way in which the Indigenous sector accesses VTE nationally; 2. increase demand for e-learning, lead by Indigenous communities which will lead to improved employment outcomes, build business opportunities and develop and strengthen links with industry; 3. seek and encourage innovative proposals that allow Indigenous communities with limited access to mainstream training to participate in e-learning; 4. identify and encourage opportunities for Indigenous individuals and communities to participate in employment and community development projects which enhance the Indigenous community’s e-learning capacity (Australian Flexible Learning Framework, 2007). Over 2005–2007, the Indigenous Engagement Project had a number of subprojects that were focused on achieving employment outcomes. There were subprojects aimed at working towards employment, involving industry, involving the community development employment programmes throughout Australia and attempting to involve all the contexts. These sub-projects were completed within one year, already had infrastructure in place, showed sustainability beyond the life of the project and involved Indigenous community e-learning champions who supported the development and implementation of effective approaches to e-learning at a community level. Most importantly, Indigenous people were engaged in all aspects of the project including the planning, involvement and evaluation. The aim of policy that funded the projects was a framework that could be used by organizations, Registered Training Organizations (RTOs) and employment agencies to genuinely engage Indigenous peoples in e-learning. The outcomes of this programme of work are evident in three key areas. First, the increased uptake and delivery of e-learning in Indigenous communities are through the professional development of mentors, the cataloguing and subsequent promotion of Indigenous

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e-learning resources and the implementation of e-learning activities which become sustainable practices. Second, the outcomes are evident in the increased uptake and delivery of e-learning through the establishment of partnerships between Indigenous communities/organizations and RTOs and industry that proactively pursue e-learning as a sustainable option. Finally, there was an increased network of Indigenous champions to promote the value of e-learning and strategies to link with industry, government and business to sustain and build community capacity.

The Potential of Using E-Learning in Indigenous Contexts The concepts around the situatedness of learning have been explored by Lave and Wenger (1991), who noted that being situated had been considered related to location in time or space for some of the people involved or their immediate social setting for others. They developed this idea and described situated learning as a theoretical construct that considered the ‘relational character of knowledge and learning, about the negotiated character of meaning, and about the concerned (engaged, dilemma-driven) nature of learning activity for the people involved (Lave and Wenger, 1991, p. 33)’. In this framework all activity is situated, and understanding is negotiated as people and activities ‘mutually constitute each other’ (Lave and Wenger, 1991, p. 33). Developing learning and teaching approaches in Indigenous contexts, then, involves more than identifying what learners don’t know and delivering a programme designed to teach that concept. Learning and teaching are underpinned by being able to acknowledge, understand and value the different types of knowledge that exist in any learning situation and their social contexts. These knowledge constructs include local, regional, national and global concepts from a range of Indigenous and non-Indigenous perspectives which are examined, challenged and in some ways reconciled through learning experiences. The added dimension in this context is that working across many Indigenous and non-Indigenous ways of knowing the world can be an opportunity or a challenge for learners and teachers. What is essential in finding opportunities is identifying the tools that can support this negotiation of knowledge and joint constructions of knowledge. E-learning provides some of those tools as knowledge can be presented in many different ways and, with recent advances making the systems more intuitive, can be adapted to support the learners’ learning processes and relationship with knowledge. E-learning can provide the ways to engage with the previously tokenized or ignored ways of understanding the world. Laurillard (2007, p. xvi). claims that e-learning, through the ‘imaginative use of digital technologies could be transformational for teaching and learning’. E-learning, as Andrews and Haythornwaite (2007, p. 18) note, is not a computer system, and although usually implemented through a range of software tools, is about people’s communication; people talking, teaching, writing, learning. As computer technology develops, e-learning is becoming a medium for co-production with a range of people and communities, locally, nationally and worldwide. It spreads to take advantage of any and all opportunities for communicating, learning, and seeking resources and, like an invasive species, turns up in many places not traditionally

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‘E-learning . . . offers the opportunities for different modes of interaction involving many more people from diverse cultural backgrounds. This involves a new set of literacies’ (Bowles, 2004, p. 102) and relationships with learning and technologies. E-learning has the potential to include Indigenous people in the development of new approaches to learning and the co-production of knowledge that address the skills and qualification gaps needed to gain successful employment outcomes. Boyle and Wallace (2008, p. 9) note that integrated e-learning developed with Indigenous people is more than understanding the technological or ICT resources but addressing organizational, systemic, pedagogic and cultural issues that challenge policy, educational institutions and systems, educators and educational brokers . . . (There is a) need to work with educational policy, institutions, trainers and brokers to reimagine VET in Indigenous contexts and then, together consider a new way to structure, fund and support remote Indigenous peoples’ learning through e-learning.

As McDonald and O’Callaghan (2007, p. 5) note, ‘e-learning should not be undertaken by Aboriginal communities simply for the sake of it, but used as a vehicle for achieving broader social outcomes’. It needs to incorporate the factors of engagement as shown in Fig. 6.1.

OWNED Community engagement and ownership

BACKED-UP

POSSESSING INDIGENOUS SPIRIT

Extensive student support services

Indigenous identities, culture, knowledge and values

SKILLFULLY LED Quality staff and committed advocacy

CONNECTED Working in true partnerships

ADAPTABLE Flexibility in course design, content and delivery

RESOURCED Appropriate funding that allows for sustainability

Fig. 6.1 Model for engagement (McDonald & O’Callaghan, 2007, p. 2)

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Indigenous people have identified the essential role of sustainable economic development in community independence, cultural maintenance, self-esteem and economic independence and the importance of engaging Indigenous people in productive economic activity. The Northern Territory Indigenous Economic Development Strategy recognizes the diversity, resilience, strength and cultural integrity of Indigenous people who also experience high levels of disadvantage which impact on the capacity of individuals, families and communities to engage in economic and social development activities. Through her review of Indigenous education research, Miller (2005) found the key factors in implementing training that meets the aspirations of Indigenous Australians included self-development skills, completion of educational subjects and courses at all levels, employment, and self-determination and community development. These aspirations are the key starting point for developing and implementing a training plan with Indigenous people, training organizations and industry partners. Miller (2005) found seven key factors are associated with positive and improved outcomes from vocational education and training for Indigenous people that must be considered regardless of the location, time or context: • • • • • • •

community ownership and involvement the incorporation of Indigenous identities, cultures, knowledge and values the establishment of ‘true’ partnerships flexibility in course design, content and delivery quality staff and committed advocacy extensive student support services appropriate funding that allows for sustainability (Miller, 2005, p. 5).

To realize the potential of e-learning for Indigenous people, its development and implementation need to incorporate an understanding of these values of ownership, inclusion, flexibility and sustainability. The successful integration of e-learning into learning experiences is more than acquiring the latest gadget, it is dependent on developing approaches to e-learning that place at the centre Indigenous knowledge, strengths, aspirations and skills.

Approach As outlined in the introduction a series of e-learning projects was conducted under the funding of the Australian Flexible Learning Framework’s Indigenous Engagement project across Australia between 2005 and 2007. The sites for the research were all regional, remote contexts where partnerships of Indigenous community members, industry and RTOs implemented a range of projects that addressed a local need and informed the national development of e-learning approaches in Indigenous contexts. The analysis drew out the key themes across all of the projects.

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A macro analysis (Chambers, 2000) was developed through a thematic approach that examined all of the relevant data concerned, classified the patterns across the data, catalogued these patterns into sub-themes, and sought feedback from informants. The authors analysed the project reports, outputs and data of each project to identify the common themes that were developed through each project following the thematic analysis of ethnographic data method outlined by Aronson (1994). The steps in this process are • • • • •

data collection and transcription if required identify data that fit established classifications or patterns combine classified data into sub-themes identify patterns and coherence in the sub-themes and classified data refer to the literature and develop an argument for each sub-theme.

The analysis process identified examples of similarity and variation and the themes that emerged as the projects developed in expertise and sophistication.

Case Studies The case studies were drawn from e-learning projects conducted between 2005 and 2007. A précis of the six case studies which exemplifies the wide range of projects that were conducted across the funding cycle are described below. Further details of these and other flexible learning projects and resources are available on Australian Flexible Learning Framework (2007).

Myuma One of the successful projects funded in 2006, Myuma continues to demonstrate its value within the vocational, education and training sector. The Myuma Aboriginal Corporation located in the most remote part of Queensland partnered with a wide range of stakeholders including government and private companies when working to upgrade the Inca Creek Road, a project that required the skills of 60 people working and learning on the job. The Inca Creek Road Alliance comprised the Queensland Main Roads department, Seymour Whyte Constructions and Myuma, a company run by the land’s traditional owners, the Indjilandji-Dhidhanu people. The Aboriginal owned and operated camp based in a remote area of Western Queensland cemented their strong partnership with a number of Federal and State Government Departments, TAFE Colleges and local mine operators to drive training and employment opportunities. To address the issues related to attracting skilled workers to this remote location, interactive learning materials were designed and

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presented on a CD-ROM, and in such a way that they could be used as a model for similar camps, in a variety of settings across the country.

Jobs for Our Mob The Jobs for our Mob Project established a training programme that identified the pre-vocational skills required of Indigenous people wanting to enter the mining, construction and engineering fields. In Western Queensland, there is a significant skills shortage in the mining and associated trades’ areas. There are also high levels of unemployment in Indigenous communities. The CD-ROM resource was designed specifically to induct and familiarize new participants and to introduce them to the expectations, rules and behaviours that are required while on site in very remote parts of Queensland.

GippsTAFE Many employment opportunities existed in Gippsland in the area of Land and Conservation Management however traditional delivery was not a suitable option because of the location of the learners and in particular the archaeology teacher. At several locations spread over large distances in Gippsland, an e-learning solution was used to close the gap between the conservation management studies unit and Koorie students. The industry demand had come from changes to cultural heritage management and as a result an increased focus on community skills and development in land management. The engagement of technology gave Indigenous learners the opportunity to learn knowledge and skills in conservation and land management that were previously not available due to geographical barriers. The e-learning blended delivery style, which was new to all the learners and trainers, exposed the community to other learning opportunities. Voice technologies such as Elluminate online classroom were used to deliver the programme. The use of technology led to the successful training of three Indigenous staff and the delivery of an e-learning course with 18 Indigenous learners across four sites in Gippsland. The information and communication technology (ICT) skills of the learners were increased as a result of learning via the blended delivery model. Employment opportunities with Aboriginal Affairs Victoria and Parks Victoria, which were not previously available, are now available to the learners on completion of training. For example, there is a skills shortage for Cultural Site Officers in Gippsland – Indigenous learners completing the training have been given the opportunity to take up employment in these roles on completion of their training. The e-learning model that has been developed during the project continues to offer opportunities to other learners in land and conservation management including across the three other campuses in the P-12 Victorian College of Koorie Education

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in Victoria. Although student participation, enthusiasm and response to a different delivery model has been a valuable achievement, the focus has not been on the technology but on the content of the course.

E-Hubs in the Northcoast Two of three projects funded by the Indigenous Engagement project in 2005 were from TAFE NSW’s Northcoast Institute (NCI) and were titled Creating Community Partnerships for E-learning Opportunities (A1 project) and Doing IT Our Way (A2 Project). Both projects aimed to increase the broader Indigenous community’s knowledge and confidence in e-learning and employed a number of strategies for engaging Indigenous communities. From the outset, an Elders reference group was established and consulted throughout the project. In addition, the community drove the content of websites established during the project and was also involved in decision making at key junctures of the project. The first stage involved the development of two e-hubs (a network of computers on broadband housed in community buildings) at Pippi Beach, Yamba, Hillcrest and Maclean to provide learning and employment opportunities for long-term unemployed and disadvantaged Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people as well as students in years 10 and 11 from these communities. Students participating in the project were trained to assemble computer hardware and develop websites to establish the e-learning hubs. The outcomes of projects found that e-learning can help maintain Indigenous culture and has brought together Indigenous youth and Elders in an e-learning environment. To date eight e-hubs have opened across the catchment and continue to play an important social and leadership role in e-learning nationally.

Working from Our Strengths: Using E-Learning to Recognize Knowledge and Competence in Indigenous Enterprise Training and Development This Australian Flexible Learning Framework project worked in partnership with Indigenous enterprises across Northern Australia. The activities enhanced practitioners’ ability to work in flexible ways with diverse client groups and the development of innovative and flexible approaches to assessment and skills recognition. This project identified the TVET-industry-specific English-based literacy inherent in the Certificate IV in Training and Assessment, and recognized a range of cultural, workforce, digital, visual and other literacies. These literacies are necessary to engage in workforce learning and development or to establish and sustain a viable enterprise that offers ongoing and valued employment in regional and remote Indigenous communities.

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Participants identified the literacies evident in their learning and workplaces and the ways these were identified or developed during their studies. Each participant identified the need to develop expertise and qualifications as a trainer, supervisor or assessor in their industry area to build their enterprise opportunities and capacity within their homeland/outstation/community. The final product outlined a series of guidelines for recognizing and assessing competence in a range of literacies and provides examples of approaches and tools to recognize and assess the identified literacies.

Indigenous E-Learning Champion Networks for Very Remote Community Microbusiness Through this project three Yolngu homeland centres Gawa, Donydji and Mapuru in East Arnhem Land within the Northern Territory explored ways to help communities use computers for their homeland business. This project grew from Indigenous people living in very remote communities and their interest in exploring the use of computers to build sustainable livelihoods in their communities, particularly through the development of family level small businesses. Through the project, participants worked with the Indigenous ICT champions to develop a network to engage, deliver and evaluate TVET e-learning for Community Development Employment Projects (CDEP) workers interested in developing small businesses at Gawa, Mapuru and Donydji. Specifically they established a researcher network that included participants, Indigenous Business Australia, and the NT Government Indigenous Economic Development Taskforce, and negotiated with homeland participants the best way to develop and deliver course content and delivered business training using ICTs. Finally the project evaluated the use of computer hardware and software, to assess the efficacy of using ICT and connecting to the internet to improve educational and business outcomes. As a result of the project, participants developed skills in using ICT-related units from the Certificate 1 in Business, Certificate 1 in IT, Certificate in Spoken and Written English and the Certificate 1 in Access to Employment and Further study. These skills were concerned with participants’ improved knowledge base for policy and practice for supporting small businesses in homelands as part of the strategy to reduce welfare dependence. As a result of the project, Yolngu microbusiness operators improved their ability to use computers for their ongoing work, e-learning champions in the three communities developed confidence, ability and recognition in using the computers in their communities and the participating communities were involved in the new discussions around the role of ICTs in the ongoing struggle to be supported in living on traditional land. The outcomes for this project have been taken up by community members who have developed strengths in using ICT to support the long-term sustainability of their communities and remote capacity building (Charles Darwin University, undated).

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Discussion The case studies analysis identified the following key elements that had an impact on the positive outcomes for Indigenous people and partner organizations.

Technology Teachers and trainers experimented with a wide range of delivery methods using technology, including live meetings, video conferencing, digital storytelling and the MARVIN software to convert resources into local languages. The resources were then made available in various projects. The hardware utilized by projects included interactive whiteboards, online networks, mobile learning units, interactive distance learning via satellite, CD-ROMs and m-learning (e.g. using mobile phones and other mobile devices). The use of mobile learning was connected to the higher ownership of mobile devices by Indigenous learners than other forms of communication technologies. Each project focused on the purpose of the learning and then identified one or more technology aides that were ‘fit-for-purpose’ and met the needs of students and their outcomes. E-learning was used for a range of learning activities including developing basic ICT skills, creating blogs, stories and cartoons online, using digital cameras, creating websites, undertaking Internet research, producing DVDs and CD-ROMs, multimedia software, as well as repairing and upgrading of software. Through the projects, educators and participants increased their awareness of the available technologies, the issues in their use and offered an opportunity to make decisions about the applicability of different technologies. Local solutions were developed when participants identified their own reasons for addressing the challenge of a lack of infrastructure. The majority of participating communities and institutions faced the challenges associated with poor infrastructure or limited access to ICT. Programme leaders reported a lack of technology support services which included the low bandwidth availability. In some sites only satellite phones were available and there was a lack of funding for computers, software or maintenance services. Through the projects, it was clear that these challenges can be addressed with sufficient investment as the existing levels of infrastructure and support were low. Implementing ICT learning approaches required attention to ensuring adequate access to infrastructure as well as ensuring the materials were engaging and appropriate.

Professional Development Trainers reported that they were often learning at the same time, or even after students, about the technology. This represented a challenge for teachers who needed a high degree of support to explore the technology and integrated pedagogies.

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There was some professional development for teachers and trainers to upgrade basic ICT skills, use the various e-learning delivery methods, create portals for teaching and learning exchange, contextualize existing resources and implement guidelines for good practice. Teachers frequently learned with the learners during the programme, which was valuable as technology continued to change throughout the learning experience. This also allowed the trainers to identify the best way to learn to use today’s technology. However some trainers indicated that the technology to which they had access might not represent the ultimate learning experience for future learners if different or improved technologies became available. Trainers indicated that they would have preferred more time to explore technologies and consider their integration into learning. Professional development and capacity building for trainers was identified as an important investment decision in any e-learning implementation process.

Integration Integration of e-learning with Indigenous communities’ learning was achieved through blending vocational learning, teaching and assessment into existing training systems and organizations. E-learning worked best if it was ‘demand responsive rather than supply driven’ (Guenther, Young, Boyle, Schaber, & Richardson, 2005). It was widely acknowledged across the projects that the social implications of failing to take up the opportunities provided by e-learning projects were substantial. For learners to be able to learn in their own languages, through images of their own world and in approaches customized to learners’ contexts was important for learners and demonstrated the advantage to learners of being able to relate to the material being delivered. Indigenous learners living in rural and remote areas have had limited access to post primary and adult educational opportunities. There has been a substantial dilemma for communities in deciding whether to support their young people in moving to large centres to access secondary and further education opportunities, or to remain in their communities and remain engaged in their community and cultural practices and traditions. E-learning has provided a way to improve access for remote communities to connect to vocational education institutions hundreds of kilometres away. The economic costs to the community of accessing education were high as industry was not able to support much education and most formal adult education required travel to a major centre, or bringing trainers to rural areas for block periods. The delivery methods many learners had experienced previously had required additional support to manage the written English literacy materials. The GippsTAFE project was conducted in a rural, rather than a remote region. However in this project it was evident that e-learning was becoming an integral part of the way in which the Indigenous learners accessed training. This project demonstrated an increased uptake of e-learning in a range of discipline areas, including language studies. Recorded oral language was central in the uptake of e-learning in the Indigenous contexts.

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All of the projects focused specifically on addressing the skills and qualification gaps needed to gain successful employment outcomes as the reason to learn and use technologies. The case studies demonstrated that the training process was as important as the outcome. The extent and depth of the participants’ outcomes from training were directly related to the degree to which projects were inclusive of Indigenous people at all stages of the development and implementation process. The focus was on the learning experience rather than the technology and this promoted Indigenous participants’ ownership of their own learning.

Partnerships and Relationships ‘Developing innovative and successful approaches to training in urban, remote and regional contexts with Indigenous people necessitates effective partnership and the recognition of diverse knowledge systems as they relate to the worlds of work, community engagement and learning’ (Wallace, Curry, & Agar, 2008, p. 1). Effective partnerships that included Indigenous community members, Indigenous trainers and educational brokers, industry, registered training organizations and local support groups were a key element in the successful integration of e-learning and achievement of employment and other significant outcomes. The greater and more extended the commitment of partners in considering e-learning, the more strategic the use of e-learning for Indigenous peoples’ purposes in the long term. For the Northcoast E-hubs teams, the projects worked with a range of industry partners to increase computer ownership among the disadvantaged individuals and community groups in the region and built on existing partnerships between Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities, industry and government organizations and the North Coast Institute to provide employment outcomes for participants. As a result, there was a dramatic increase in computer ownership in the communities involved in the North Coast Institute projects. This has had a wider impact as one computer can provide access for up to 20 people. Negotiations with industry partners resulted in agreements to train up to 20 people, in both 2005 and 2006, with confirmed employment for half of each of these groups of students on completion. Throughout all the projects, partnerships were a significant investment for participants and needed time and attention. Partners were not necessarily e-learning or technology experts; rather they could see the potential and were willing to explore how this potential of using e-learning to improve vocational and educational outcomes could be realized on the ground.

Indigenous Champions Each project was asked to identify a suitable Indigenous Project Champion (although that term was not universally supported) to assist and support project participants through the life of the project. Project champions were not experts in

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technologies or learning pedagogy, more they were the people who supported communication and informed the development of effective solutions. The champions supported the team of people as they documented and tested the most appropriate model for each location. They were able to bring up the difficult issues and discuss them across a range of stakeholder groups and promote the potential of using e-learning to achieve people’s own goals. The impact of Indigenous project champions was evident through and beyond the project life cycle. Through a recruiting process to increase the participation and leadership by Indigenous people and ensure the appropriateness of technology uses, the e-learning project champions continued to assist in the long-term sustainability and embedding flexible learning into Indigenous organizations. This occurred in different ways at various locations. For example, at one site the project champions were selected because of their skills and access to technology and were selected at the start of the project. However, in the NSW model, champions evolved as early adopters and eventually more than two were selected. Throughout the case studies, there was an evident change in the project champions from quiet introverted young and older people at the beginning of the project to people confident enough to chair the opening of the community e-hub and co-present with the project manager at a number of functions – including the national project reference group. Of considerable value were a series of activities that brought Indigenous champions across all sites and projects together to network that deepened their understanding and extended their use of e-learning in Indigenous contexts. Together they represent a considerable body of expertise about how to consider e-learning and its integration.

Co-production and Appropriate Representation of Diverse Knowledge Systems Participants in case studies developed approaches to learning, representing and creating knowledge, sharing ideas and assessing competence with Indigenous participants to better represent and reflect Indigenous people’s existing and growing strengths and knowledge. This included the use of video, audio, digital stories, websites and portfolios. The potential use of the e-learning tools were not always expected and developed as participants in teams grew in confidence and knowledge about what was possible. The ownership of the final outcomes was shared which was reflected in the accurate representations of Indigenous people, the appropriate representation of their learning and the use of e-learning to generate a series of works across projects that was unexpected. For instance, Yonlgu participants used a map of the seasons as a way to organize information in a cycle and participants in the Kimberley TAFE group rejected the use of existing e-portfolio software and developed their own file management structure on USB flash drives. Through the Working from Our Strength project, it was evident that the opportunity for Indigenous learners to represent their knowledge and skills accurately, based in their own context, visually and orally, led to significantly improved assessment of

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the outcomes by external assessors. This also improved the relationship between learners and trainers as it was based on a shared understanding of what people could do rather than on an external judgement of the ways of Indigenous learners. It had been the experience in the past that externally imposed TVET models led to outcomes that didn’t meet external assessment criteria that may have limited or no relationship to the work to be undertaken in their own community. The use of e-learning was most effective when Indigenous people were involved at every stage. Trust was the cornerstone of co-production and was the focus for developing strong relationships across individuals, groups and institutions. The critical mass of knowledge and resources was central to gaining external and agency support for project teams and their ideas.

Resources and Sustainability Project teams reported a distinct lack of existing culturally appropriate resources to support Indigenous e-learning and the need to develop resources with Indigenous participants throughout the projects. This led to the development of better resources as they were focused on local contexts and content, were accepted and appreciated by the range of people involved in their development and could be adapted over time as the users identified better ways of learning or other technologies. Funding to implement e-learning and just as importantly establish infrastructure beyond the AFLF was sporadic, short term, project based and unsustainable. Effective projects started before their funding started and continued beyond the funding cycle. Longterm impacts beyond the funding cycle were supported by integrating the projects into existing programmes, adding value to the pedagogy used in an institution, linking to the nationally accredited training framework and supporting developing enterprises. Sustainability was a key consideration for each project team and Indigenous project champions have demonstrated through their ongoing work that their role has been crucial in creating pathways to further develop e-learning and creating opportunities for change. For example, the principles and the framework from the Jobs for our Mob project are integrated (as standard practice) as a supplementary resource to assist participants and the RTOs. The Split Rock Inca training approach has now been adopted by Construction Training Queensland as a base model to be implemented across Queensland in all major civil and infrastructure projects for Indigenous employment initiatives. This model has been nationally recognized for recruiting and maintaining trained staff, creating community and individual capital. Sustainability of programmes was enhanced by being able to articulate and demonstrate the outcomes and developing meaningful relationships with government funding and policy organizations that shared in committing to the investment, processes and outcomes. The showcasing of the project outcomes in a national Indigenous e-learning event shared the learning to improve the viability and innovation in e-learning as groups can learn from others when developing e-learning materials in their own language, with local content and for their own purpose.

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Conclusion The work of Indigenous and non-Indigenous partners across community, industry, educational institutions and government agencies has demonstrated the value of exploring the role of e-learning in improving the educational and employment outcomes of Indigenous people. An analysis of these case studies has demonstrated that e-learning is so much more than the introduction of digital technologies; it is an understanding of the role of those technologies in communication across cultures, regions, workplaces and ideas. It is the co-production of knowledge, the development of the skills to participate in workforces and the ability to share and represent concepts in many different ways. E-learning also has to be situated in each place in which people engage with that learning. The cultural, governance, social and physical structures that inform learning engagement and transformation through that learning have to be identified and incorporated in the resources. The design of e-learning experiences needs to incorporate approaches that engage with the situatedness of people’s learning as they understand it and examine the connection between the nature of knowledge in those Indigenous communities and external educational institutions. The potential of Indigenous people to inform and shape e-learning to achieve positive and empowering outcomes can be realized through partnership and a readiness to learn together. Expertise in working across knowledge systems that recognize Indigenous and non-Indigenous people’s histories, context, place, values and connection to country cannot be underestimated. E-learning provides a mechanism to explore these world views and engage in learning through the co-production of knowledge in ways that may not be perfect and are definitely not value free, but provide starting points for a new conversation about ideas and learning. The e-learning space is a part of these contexts that needs to be negotiated. The degree to which partners in learning actively explore the reality of situated learning in this space will have an impact on its efficacy.

References Andrews, R., & Haythornthwaite, C. (Ed). (2007). The SAGE handbook of e-learning research. London Sage publications. Aronson, J. (1994). A pragmatic view of thematic analysis. The Qualitative Report, 2(1). Australian Flexible Learning Framework (2007). Indigenous engagement. Web document located May 2010 at: http://pre2009.flexiblelearning.net.au/flx/go/home/projects/2007/ indigenous2007/cache/offonce;jsessionid=370B618D7F2310AA43EB5BD7554C6BFE Bowles, M. S. (2004). Re-learning to e-learn: Strategies for electronic learning and knowledge. Melbourne: Melbourne University Publishing. Boyle, A., & Wallace, R. (2008). The role of e-learning in ‘holistic’ approaches to VET in remote indigenous contexts. Australian Vocational Education and Training Research Association Conference, Adelaide. Chambers, E. (2000). Applied ethnography. In N. Denzin & Y. Lincoln (Eds.), Handbook of qualitative research (2 nd ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Charles Darwin University. (undated). E-learning for homeland computer business. Located May 2010 at http://www.cdu.edu.au/centres/aflf/

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Decision No 2318/EC of the European Parliament and of the Council, December 2003 adopting a multiannual programme (2004–2006) for the effective integration of information and communication technologies (ICT) in education and training systems. In Europe (e-learning Programme). Official Journal of the European Union 31.12.2003. Retrieved June 1, 2008, from http://europa.eu/eur-lex/pri/en/oj/dat/2003/1_345/1_34520031231en00090016.pdf Guenther, J., Young, M., Boyle, A., Schaber, E., & Richardson, J. (2005). Growing the desert: Effective educational pathways for remote Indigenous peoples. Adelaide: National Centre for Vocational Research. Laurillard, D. (2007). ‘Foreward’. In H. Beetham & R. Sharpe (Eds.), Rethinking pedagogy for a digital age: Designing and delivering e-learning. Oxon: Routledge. Lave, J., & Wenger, E. (1991). Situated learning: Legitimate peripheral participation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. McDonald, R., & O’Callaghan, K. (2007). Indigenous engagement project 2006 end of year forum: Working towards better practice. Australian Flexible Learning Framework. Canberra: Department of Education, Science and Training. Miller, C. (2005). Aspects of training that meet indigenous Australian’s aspirations: A systematic review of research. Adelaide: National Centre for Vocational Research. Wallace, R., Curry, C., & Agar, R. (2008). Working from our Strengths: Indigenous enterprise and training in action and research. Adelaide: Australian Vocational Education and Training Research Association Conference.

Chapter 7

Vocational Learning by Native Americans in the USA Cornelia Butler Flora and Mary Emery

Introduction In this chapter we review the history of US federal policy toward Indian education during the past century and a half, and subsequent efforts by tribes to create educational systems that support tribal sovereignty and culture. Tribal colleges developed as tribes were able to strengthen their sovereignty and determine how education could best support the future of the tribe. We also present findings from a study of promising practices on community engagement collected from native-serving institutions and how those new pedagogic practices are successful to the degree to which they incorporate the seven Community Capitals in a holistic approach to vocational learning.

Understanding the Past to View Present and Future Possibilities Early US policy towards its Indigenous inhabitants was conquest and removal. Indeed, at one point only one vote in Congress kept the policy from becoming one of total annihilation. The dominant culture as represented by the Federal government viewed indigenous cultures, varied as those cultures were among over 600 separate tribal nations, as something to extinguish for the well-being of the nation. The US government practised cultural annihilation through military incursions and Indian wars (up to the presidency of Ulysses S. Grant), movement to reservations (from 1870 to the 1930s), and assimilation (attempted through boarding schools and movement to urban areas). In addition, many European settlers used economic mechanisms and force to remove Indian people from potentially valuable lands.

C.B. Flora (B) Department of Sociology, Iowa State University, Ames, IA 50011-1070, USA e-mail: [email protected]

R. Catts et al. (eds.), Vocational Learning, Technical and Vocational Education and Training: Issues, Concerns and Prospects 14, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-1539-4_7,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2011

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Boarding schools were meant to ‘civilize’ Native American children by taking away and removing all symbols of their culture – their names, their hair, their food, their clothing, their religion, their language, their place and their extended families. All this was done under militaristic regimentation and discipline (Adams, 1995). Since they would no longer have the survival skills taught by their parents, the girls were taught how to cook and clean in European homes and the boys were taught to be mechanics and farmers, all skills irrelevant for most reservations where the Indigenous people were forced to live. Boarding schools sought to replace indigenous ways of seeing, knowing and being with English, Christianity, athletic activities and a ritual calendar intended to further patriotic citizenship. They instructed students in the industrial and domestic skills considered appropriate to European American gender roles and taught them manual labour. For many Native American children, this cultural assault led to confusion and alienation, homesickness and resentment (Adams, 1995; Davis, 2001). The boarding school experience was designed to force assimilation into the dominant culture, yet that very focus had an unintended consequence. While attendance at boarding school was supposed to ‘take the Red out’, for many children, it increased awareness of their particular tribal identity and its importance (Lomawaima, 1994; Child, 1998). The boarding school experience, while aimed at destroying indigenous cultures, had contradictory implications and provided the impetus for the formation of centres of vocational education based on indigenous culture. Boarding schools were experienced differently across the country depending on how they were run, the level of violence of practices, and restrictions on ‘being Indian’. In some areas of the country, parents substitute the boarding school nuns for the bogeyman in stories to encourage children to behave. In other parts of the country, tribal members still send their children to boarding schools and look forward to reunions (Davis, 2001). Boarding schools also provided a pan-Native American experience for setting up appropriate learning situations for Native Americans in the United States. Boarding schools embodied both victimization and agency for Native people, and they served as sites of both cultural loss and cultural persistence. These institutions, intended to assimilate Native people into mainstream society and eradicate Native cultures, became integral components of American Indian identities and eventually fuelled the drive for political and cultural self-determination in the late twentieth century (Davis, 2001).

Both the content and pedagogy of boarding school education was foreign to Native American students. Vocational skills were taught by rote and ‘easily forgotten’ (Ellis, 1987, p. 256). Boarding schools replaced learning from story, example and experience with memorization. Students who excelled in their classes were permitted to work outside the school as household help and farm labour. Teaching Indigenous boys to farm ‘the American way’ fit into a larger plan for removing both indigenous culture and indigenous property (Grinder, 2004). The Dawes Act of 1887 was specifically aimed at substituting the cultural capital of the dominant US society (valuing ownership and private property) for the ‘unproductive’ cultural capital of Native Americans (stewardship of land and resources for

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future generations). The goal was to make the Native Americans become like white people – and also to take their land. Congressman Henry Dawes, author of the act, once expressed his faith in the civilizing power of private property with the claim that to be civilized was to ‘wear civilized clothes . . . cultivate the ground, live in houses, ride in Studebaker wagons, send children to school, drink whiskey [and] own property’ (Archives of the West).1 The dominance of the cultural capital as well as the political capital of those in control completely negated the ability of Native Americans to use their local cultural capital and natural capital to maintain their social and economic well-being (Flora & Flora, 2008). The Native Americans’ religions were seen as the basis for their unwillingness to adopt a more materialist approach to life that would allow them to properly conform to the values of the European Americans, so the US Government supported Christian missionaries from different denominations (initially excluding Catholics and Mormons), putting them in charge of different parts of Native American country. And since religion was tied to specific sacred places, many tribes were moved long distances to more barren lands, which conveniently left them far from their sacred places and their fertile lands and forests went to European Americans. For tribal colleges, the variety of indigenous religious traditions forms a focal point of education.

Tribal Colleges and Vocational Training The impact of the forced displacement of Indian people, the attempt to eradicate native religions and the boarding-school experience all contributed to how tribes have worked to create their own educational alternatives, particularly tribal colleges and universities.2 In crafting their nation’s educational strategy, tribal leaders have strongly emphasized revering the connection to the land (natural capital), reclaiming cultural traditions and heritage (cultural capital), building networks within for

1 The act allotted 160 acres of land to individual tribal members, giving the ‘excess’ land to the US Government to dispose of to white settlers. The reduction of land area was supposed to force Native Americans to become farmers. The privatized land was, in many cases, quickly lost to European Americans as native farmers did not understand the system of taxing, credit, and marketing imposed on them. By taking advantage of the fact that private land ownership was an absolutely foreign concept to most Native American bands and tribes, the Government was able to transfer the land to white ownership. In addition, lands remaining in Indian hands were often put in trust to the Bureau of Indian Affairs which rented land, primarily to white farmers, for compensation such as a turkey. The lack of reporting on income from these trusts lands is the source of a multi-billion dollar lawsuit against the Department of Interior. 2 While colleges for Native American Indians were in place prior to 1968, including Haskell Indian College (founded in 1884 as United States Indian Industrial Training School, now renamed Haskell Indian Nations University) is now classified as a tribal college. It is an intertribal college and has adopted the same kinds of mission and vision as the tribally controlled colleges. Other colleges for Native American Indians, such the Institute of American Indian Arts, were established by the Bureau of Indian Affairs as a high school in 1962. It is still funded primarily by the US Congress.

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each nation and between tribal entities (social capital) and embraces alternative pedagogies which recognize the strengths of Indian students, rather than focusing on their shortcomings (human capital). As they build their colleges, sweat lodges and sacred symbols are included so that built capital reflects and reinforces cultural capital. Many tribes discussed the necessity of Native American post-secondary education during the 1960s. In 1968, the powerful Navajo Nation established Navajo Community College, the first tribally controlled college in the United States (Stein, 1986). Establishing such higher educational institutions was a very direct way of expressing tribal sovereignty. In the years following, other tribes and tribal alliances established their own colleges in order to control their own education and present skills and knowledge with their own cultural and experiential lens, in distinct contrast to the oppressive boarding schools imposed by religious groups and the Bureau of Indian Affairs (Boyer, 1989). At first dependent solely on tribal funds – in an era before tribal gaming brought revenue to some tribes and before the Federal government saw fit to fund any but the Bureau of Indian Affairs-controlled Haskell Indian Institute – the institutions included vocational training as an important part of their educational offerings. In 1978 they gained some funding through the Tribally Controlled Community College Act, and in 1994 these colleges were designated as Land Grant Universities and became eligible to compete for USDA funding for outreach programmes. Tribal colleges offer nearly 10 times as many culturally grounded courses, which focus on Native American heritages and cultures, as mainstream colleges, net of other institutional characteristics (e.g. minority enrollment, public or private control, 2- or 4-year college and accreditation). This finding could be attributed to the quasisovereign legal status of Indian tribes, which, like other sovereigns, are invested with the authority to define what counts as legitimate knowledge (Cole, 2006). Vocational training or technical education is a key component of tribal college programming and is aimed at increasing the student’s ability to increase their income and contribute to their community. In Native American country, income generation has collective as well as individual implications (Black, 1994). Despite the focus on income-generating opportunities, tribal college vocational training is holistic, as demonstrated by AIHEC’s analysis of tribal colleges as engaged institutions (2001). First Nations call this approach of linking education to income-producing opportunities ‘culture-first capitalism’ (Ambler, 1997–1998). Tribal colleges on many reservations play a significant role in supporting the community and economic development strategies employed by the various Native American nations. In addition to job training, tribal college graduates often become entrepreneurs and create their own businesses, sometimes employing others as well. These entrepreneurs often describe their business venture as a way of helping their community first and of generating profit second (Bregendahl & Flora, 2003). More than 16 of the 31 tribal colleges offer entrepreneurial training or small business management degrees. In addition, more than 10 of the colleges based on reservations have Tribal Business Assistance Centers that provide help to community businesses (Casey, 1997–1998).

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A fundamental difference between economic development efforts in Native American country (cultural capitalism) versus economic development off the reservation lies in defining success (Cornell & Kalt, 2007; Bregendahl & Flora, 2003; Emery & Fey, 2007). For instance in our interviews with tribal college personnel and their partners, we asked how the promising practices led to wealth creation. Almost without exception, that question was answered in a non-monetary fashion as respondents referred to preserving heritage, generational transfers of cultural, education and helping the tribe or community (Emery & Fey, 2007). Similarly, Bregendahl and Flora (2003) found that contributing to community service, preserving culture and improving the lives of tribal members was also important. In this way the tribal college focus on culture and sovereignty is reflected in the curriculum and training available at the college.

Tribal Colleges and Integrated Vocational Education We gathered our data on tribal college vocational training as part of a larger conversation on poverty reduction and asset growth in Native American country.3 Our goal was to encourage community-based, proactive planning using the Rural Community College Initiative (RCCI) process so that other tribal colleges could adapt such innovative pedagogy into their college-community plans. We engaged RCCI tribal college partners from Turtle Mountain Community College, Fond du Lac Tribal and Community College, Fort Berthold Community College, Little Priest Community College and United Tribes Technical College. These colleges offer important lessons on the importance of native-controlled, native-serving higher education institutions, but represent only a fraction of the more than 500 federally recognized tribes and Native Alaskan Villages, each of which has a separate government. There are 308 reservations under tribal control (sometimes called Rancherias, colonies or pueblos). The five tribal colleges which participated in the study are among the 32 tribal colleges with current Federal recognition (White House Initiative on Tribal Colleges and Universities).

Methodology The initial contacts at each college were made by our tribal college partners, who, based on their knowledge of their own campuses, identified promising pedagogies that linked vocational training to community development. Thirty four such projects were identified by the seven tribal-serving institutions, plus three 3 The overall project received funding from the National Rural Funders Collaborative and our work with Native- and tribal-serving colleges is interwoven with the Rural Community College Initiative (RCCI) (Ford Foundation) and the Increasing the Educational Access of Underrepresented People to Tribal and Community Colleges through Equitable Economic Development and Civic Engagement project (Lumina Foundation for Education).

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community-based institutions. Twenty of these projects are part of the curriculum of the five tribal colleges. Our partners conducted interviews with key actors on each, while staff from the North Central Regional Center for Rural Development (NCRCRD), where Flora was Director and Emery Associate Director, conducted follow-up calls to complete our information. We had an interview protocol, rather than a set questionnaire, and used snowball sampling to identify other actors important to implementing the pedagogical practice. Most of the interviews were recorded and partially transcribed, although some of the discussions took place in classroom and community settings where note-taking took the place of recording. Our data was qualitative, which NCRCRD staff analyzed using N-Vivo. We used the community capitals framework as our guiding coding frame. A total of over 80 interviews were conducted at the five tribal colleges, plus two native-serving institutions in Alaska and Hawaii, an additional tribal college, a reservation-based NGO who carried out vocational training outside of a college setting, and an Alaska Native-Serving institution. Once these were completed, we visited each college and worked through the mapping of actions and impact related to the seven capitals with college students and administrators. Our analysis focused on: • the situated and social context as defined by project participants; • the nature of self-directed adult vocational learning; • knowing and knowledge management processes via the use of a mapping exercise using the community capitals framework; and • connections between pedagogy, community and vocational learning as described in the impact mapping sessions. In our examination of technical education programmes in tribal colleges, we found that the programmes which continued in the curriculum were based on the context of each tribe and reservation, yet provided ways to bridge to the outside actors and resources. Based on the information collected from college teams, we were able to assess the characteristics of successful projects in light of the assets invested and those that grew as a result of the project. We used the Community Capitals Framework (Flora and Flora, 2008) to conduct this analysis. Flora and Flora identify seven capitals that reflect community assets: 1. Natural capital includes assets in the natural environment. 2. Cultural capital includes heritage, language, artefacts and the arts and also socially accepted ways of thinking about the world and our role in it and accepted ways of getting things done. 3. Human capital includes skills, knowledge, health and welfare and the selfefficacy of individuals, their families and the community. 4. Social capital includes both strong and weak ties, connections to resources and power and the relationships that lower opportunity costs.

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5. Political capital includes the agency of people involved as well as the structure and use of power. 6. Financial capital refers to money, grants, loans, philanthropy and income. 7. Built capital includes the infrastructure that supports communities and families. Research on communities found that communities that invest assets from multiple capitals are more likely to see asset development in multiple capitals (Flora, Bregendahl, & Fey, 2007). Projects that are so integrated in institutions or communities are more likely to be sustainable over time. Thus we looked for pedagogical approaches that included multiple capitals. In our research we looked at the number and type of capitals invested in a particular project and the number and type of capitals that were built as a result of the project. In total we collected data on 39 practices. The data in the table indicates that tribal- and native-serving colleges make good use of existing resources to build and support outreach practices. Because of the unique relationship between people and land in Native cultures, we see that a substantial number of practices mobilize natural capital assets (land, food strategies, agricultural practices and landscape) to support the implementation of the practice. Where there is work, there is life . . . reclaiming the cultural role of land stewardship. Without the land, we are not a people. In order for the people to flourish, the land must flourish (interview with tribal college respondent; Emery & Fey, 2007).

Twenty-eight of the practices invested cultural assets (traditions, songs, clan or village practices, foods, ways of being and doing, etc.) to support their programme. Many of those interviewed saw culture as key to helping participants develop their identity and strengthen their self-confidence, so they could continue their education or career opportunities and succeed. These programmes also focused on teaching traditional ways of being and doing, both to preserve traditions and to increase student success. These are kids who are going to be responsible for the earth, and people are not making very good decisions right now. Indian people have a natural connection to the earth and they know that they have a lot of knowledge . . . we blend traditional knowledge with scientific knowledge because that is important. We have lived here for how many . . . 100s of years . . . and the earth was in pretty good shape (interview with tribal college respondent; Emery & Fey, 2007).

Table 7.1 Community capitals invested and built by Tribal College 34 Learning Projects Type of capital

Number investing assets

Number building assets

Natural Cultural Human Social Political Financial Built

15 28 37 32 12 33 30

11 34 34 34 19 29 15

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In the Rural Alaska Honors Institute project, instructors made explicit use of Native cognitive patterns to support student academic achievement. . . . elders get the right people on the committee. They guide you along the way. My committee really helped us move in the right direction (interview with Alaska college respondent; Emery & Fey, 2007).

Investing existing human capital (the skills and knowledge of staff, participants and community leaders) was a key element of success in most of the practices. In this quote, the respondent talks about the importance of culturally appropriate education to families and to communities. For the community, it means a better cadres of teachers who are knowledgeable about education theory and how to get community members to work together to understand the educational needs of the community and help parents and grandparents get involved. When you do that, centered around education, which is of course the children, you begin to help recreate the social fabric that has suffered under certain external influences . . . It helps families learn to work together with other families and then, of course, there is greater community cohesiveness, all built around children (Emery & Fey, 2007).

Social capital (networks, norms of reciprocity and trust and relationships) figured highly in the practices as programme staff drew on their connections to people to involve organizations and participants. In this quote from Alaska we see the importance of leadership and role models in creating an environment where people work with others to get things done: This campus does an extraordinary job of supporting staff and students to make connections in their own communities . . . [There is] a mentality of working together and making things happen. Innovation is welcomed and rewarded (Emery & Fey, 2007).

Elements of social capital were prominent in the advice project leaders had for those who would like to adapt the promising practices, particularly in regard to working with others within the college and with those in the community who support the college. Political capital was least mentioned in the interviews, although reference was made in several practices that involve working with governments: tribal, local, state and federal, although in the tribal college setting sovereignty is always a key factor in any activity. Leadership here is so parallel to politics that we decided early on that we would not become political. We do not want to become attached to any political beliefs, and politics was not something [we] wanted to become involved in (Emery & Fey, 2007).

When respondents mentioned financial capital, they most often reflected on the fact that many of the practices rely on grants or special funding. The high number of references to built capital indicates that these colleges make good use of their physical resources and can access other such resources when needed. In terms of impact, the data indicates that the practices resulted in increased stock in human, social, political and cultural capital. The impact of the project on assets across the capitals was determined by using a mapping process. Generally all the practices resulted in increased assets in multiple capitals.

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The project became very successful because, number one, the farmers were very enthusiastic about the project itself. And, the other thing is that it wasn’t individual farmers; they worked together as a group. There was a lot of support for each other. They also had a lot of respect for the extension agents they worked with. There was good comradeship among them. They enjoyed the idea that the community college was encouraging them. There was a philosophy that we could all learn from one another and that learning never stops. I also think it was successful because of the type of project. We were not bulldozing or ripping the land; the hydroponics tables were built on the ground and in their backyard. They could go and talk to their plants every day (Emery & Fey, 2007).

We would expect to see strong impact on human capital because most practices do relate to the educational mission of the colleges. We see increases in social capital as successful practices in community outreach helping participants build the bridging social capital they need to continue their education and training or to find employment. We also see how the practices expanded social capital within the programme and the college. Programmes focused on business development resulted in increased bridging social capital when participants accessed technical assistance. We see increased bonding social capital in many of the educational preparation programmes, particularly those focused on K-12, as students learn to work together and support each other. The expansion of stock in political capital relates most often to the increase in visibility with key decision makers on the tribal, state and federal levels, including private foundations, when projects are successful thus enabling ongoing support for the project and potential spin-offs The most successful vocational learning experiences were multidimensional, contributing to the indigenous community and the individual learner. Three case studies of these efforts at Tribal Colleges in the Great Plains of the United States on reservations with high rates of poverty show their effectiveness in a region of high unemployment and material poverty for Native Americans.

Reclaiming Place and Heritage Through the Tribal College The Fort Berthold reservation confined the three affiliated tribes Mandan, Hidatsa and Arikara (Sahnish) in part of their traditional lands in the Little Mississippi watershed in North Dakota. Devastated by the small pox epidemics of 1792, 1836 and 1837 brought by white soldiers and traders, the tribes maintained separate bands, clan systems and separate ceremonial bundles but developed similar strategies for survival. The Fort Berthold Reservation was established under the Executive Order of 1870, but suffered constant incursions by European-American settlers which depleted their natural resources. The reservation was negatively impacted by the construction by the Corps of Engineers of the Federal Government in 1951 of the Garrison dam on the Missouri River, which flows through the reservation. The resulting Lake Sakakawea covered the most fertile land on the reservation, disrupting traditional farming systems.

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Much of the resulting farming efforts replicated those of the white farmers who surrounded the reservation focusing on wheat and cattle production, although the land available to tribal members was considerably less than the large ranches surrounding the reservation. Fort Berthold Community College (FBCC) was founded on 2 May, 1973, as the agency responsible for higher education, both vocational and academic, on the Fort Berthold Reservation. It offers a number of programmes that help local people increase their capacity to engage in farming and gardening. The three affiliated tribes endorsed the concept that a locally based higher education institution was needed to train tribal members and to act as a positive influence in retaining the tribal culture. The effort we analyzed involves faculty, students and community members in increasing the quality and return on investment in natural capital. A very successful project at FBCC focuses on encouraging community gardening by providing land preparation, planting and by working with tribal members in projects that can improve natural capital (tree planting), financial capital (income) and human capital through local food consumption and building knowledge on sustainable farming practices. ‘Gardening went dead here on the reservation, and now it is starting to come back to where it was’ (Emery & Fey, 2007). FBCC’s Land Laboratory provides people with access to 21 individual garden plots. In addition, they are developing a ‘traditional garden where elders grow and propagate original seeds’. With traditional gardening they help people understand the need to ‘keep the seeds separate’. The programme helps with irrigation for these plots, and the land is leased from the Corps of Engineers. They also support traditional USDA programmes targeted at ranchers and farmers such as ‘borrowing, trading programmes, farm and ranch business accounting, livestock, and farm production’. Ranchers’ attendance is high at their educational events as they look to learn something new. The programme has an overall goal of promoting agriculture on the reservation and encouraging gardening for healthier food and habits. Before the college was established, the local ranchers, both tribal and white, had difficulty in getting assistance. Since 1992, they have had the opportunity to work with FBCC’s agriculture department. The programme works closely with citizen committees in each of the districts. Klein, the director of the programme, has found the ‘committees to be a good sounding board to bring things out’. People have a ‘good relationship with the ag programme, and they would come to us for help with their needs. Some people have been coming since the nineties. If we can’t help, we can contact others who can’ (Emery & Fey, 2007). In addition to the gardening project, FBCC and their extension programme also support a youth lamb project. This programme builds human capital through acquainting young people with tasks of taking care of and showing animals at the county fair. As part of the gardening project, they also support a traditional garden that highlights traditional plants. As a result of the interest in traditional plants, the college has also become involved in an effort to bring back the juneberries, once a staple

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for tribal members. They utilized political capital to combine tribal and Federal resources (land and money) to plant trees across the reservation. A future goal for the programme is to increase built capital through the construction of a greenhouse which will be run by the students and serve both to learn horticultural skills that fit the natural capital and to provision the college (human capital) and provide income to support the college (financial capital). Bridging social capital is an important strategy for their success in building capacity. FBCC partners with North Dakota State University to re-establish the production of juneberries, known in parts of the Great Plains as service berries. By 2006 FBCC ‘already established 2,000 trees, [which is] just the beginning’ (Emery & Fey, 2007). Food self-sufficiency increased as tribal members found that returning to traditional crops provided more opportunities than conventional farming and ranching. The focus on agriculture helps FBCC work with farmers and ranchers on sustainability. In the 1990s they saw 30–40 per cent of the enterprises go under. They want to provide more education for these families. As a result of their efforts, they sometimes have as many as 10–15 students in class. According to Ron Klein, soil/plant science specialist and instructor at FBCC, ‘Two have graduated from NDSU; one came back as a stockman’s coordinator. The sons are coming in now for the training . . . several years ago, ‘young ranchers would drop out of school, but now they get college courses. They have to have high school. Ten years ago we had to put them into GED [General Equivalency Degree] . . . We want to see young ranchers succeed’. To do that, they have to change the cultural capital absorbed from the dominant culture of ‘plow and cow’. The college hopes to engage young ranchers in alternative approaches by identifying former cultural practices and related values that will encourage new ways of working with the land. ‘We try to use culture. The farm and ranch economy is always up and down. We put on workshops for value-added and high risk – dealing with droughts, insurance, vet medicine, calving. We put things on so they fit with the time of year’, Klein told us. The presence of FBCC has resulted in a better integration among traditional and current life situations of the members of the three tribes. By offering a wide range of formal and informal programmes, FBCC contributes to increasing • human capital through more appropriate knowledge and increased health through consumption of locally produced fruits and vegetables, • natural capital through better land management practices and utilizing native species, • financial capital through increased productivity and reduced expenses, • social capital through the formation of young farmer groups as well as youth groups participating in gardening and tree planting. FBCC started with natural capital through access to agricultural lands. Building on cultural capital, they mobilized traditional approaches to agriculture and the support of elders. Using political capital, they generated financial capital through federal and tribal funding.

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These capital investments increased natural capital through building gardens and planting trees and juneberries. They increased cultural capital by creating traditional food gardens. Further sharing vocational knowledge by FBCC has transitioned from crisis management to delivery by design, a critical cultural capital change. Human capital increased through the skills and knowledge developed related to successful agricultural endeavours, leadership development and healthier diets and opportunities for youth. Social capital increased through the connections made within each district for the college and the programme. FBCC’s political capital increased as they gained support from tribal government. And the financial capital of Native American ranchers and farmers increased through increased farm efficiency. The approach shifted from bringing in knowledge from the outside to merging expert knowledge (the construction of greenhouses and their operation) with local knowledge in terms of native species, cultural tradition and family ties.

Turtle Mountain Community College The Turtle Mountain Chippewa Tribe, originally a band of Ojibwa, originally traversed the northern woodland parts of the United States and southern woodlands of Canada, planting as they moved west after the buffalo, and harvesting as they returned east. With contact with French fur trappers, they also engaged in trapping. The transition of the Chippewa from the woodlands to the plains occurred near the end of the eighteenth century as the Red River Valley where they previously were located was depleted of fur-bearing animals. Some bands of Chippewa returned to the woodlands of Minnesota, while the Mikinak-wastsha-anishinabe band established themselves in the Turtle Mountains with the horses and guns they had acquired from trading with the Mandan and Hidatsa tribes to the west. They found some protection from the advancing settlers in the Turtle Mountains. But small pox epidemics in the mid-1800s decimated different bands. The Turtle Mountain Chippewa reservation was established in North Dakota in 1882 and reduced by Executive Order in 1884, putting the best farmland in the public domain (Turtle Mountain Band of Chippewa Indians). The Turtle Mountain Chippewa Tribe chartered the college in 1972. The founding mission of the college was to provide higher education and vocational training services for tribal members, preserve and promote the history and culture of the Turtle Mountain Band of Chippewa, and provide leadership and community service to the reservation.

About the Project: Straw House Project Working with the Red Feather Development Group, a non-profit organization dedicated to providing training for alternative housing construction on reservations, Turtle Mountain Community College meshed past construction techniques with

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more energy-efficient building development to increase social, human, natural and built capital. When the Turtle Mountain Community College selected Red Feather in 2004 to assist with the construction of a straw building at the Anishinabe Learning, Cultural and Wellness Center site, the college agreed to provide the services of their concrete technology students. In return, the students were given the opportunity to develop another marketable skill while assisting in the actual construction of the building. The exterior walls of the straw building used materials similar to buildings from the tribal ancestral past – mud and grass/straw. ‘The actual bales that were put in the Anishinabe Wellness site building came from the Navajo reservation; they have a company that makes straw bales with no weeds present. These bales are made so that there is nothing that can rot inside them; just straw in the bales’ (Emery & Fey, 2007). The tools used for this project were all handmade. In this way built capital reinforced cultural and bonding social capital. Students from the college enrolled in the concrete technology course, as well as Native American volunteers from all over the United States and Canada, provided the labour for the building. The project offered TMCC a new building, alternative construction skills for the students and an unbiased view of one another’s culture for the participants. Not only does the building serve a utilitarian purpose for the college, but as one of the student construction workers on the site points out, ‘When people come to Turtle Mountain Indian Reservation, they’re going to want to stop and see the straw house. I think it’s going to be a focal point of interest on our reservation’ (Emery & Fey, 2007). This project will have many positive outcomes, including providing a way for people on the reservation to learn new skills, as well as incorporating the past into the construction. To quote one of the outside Native American volunteers, ‘When we started putting the building up, a group of local people came out to the straw house and welcomed us. They spoke their own language and demonstrated to us the local singing and dancing and spoke to us about the different traditions on the reservation. The building, I think from the top, is supposed to look like a turtle and inside they’re eventually going to put museum items’ (Emery & Fey, 2007). The project’s major contribution to the Turtle Mountain community was bonding social capital among the Turtle Mountain Ojibwa tribal members. It brought Native American people from the reservation together while resurrecting a former construction practice from the past. In so doing, the straw bale project (built capital) became a vehicle for sharing information and celebrating remembrances (cultural capital). By inviting Native American people from outside the reservation to participate, the project helped the community build new bridging capital, develop new contacts and form new friendships. Finally, it demonstrated an alternative strategy for creating buildings using a cost-effective and more energy-efficient method for building houses on the Turtle Mountain Reservation (cultural capital to influence built capital and natural capital). The straw house provided an opportunity for students to participate in a sustainable development project. The building of the straw house encouraged additional experiential education programmes related

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to sustainability and health and the knowledge gained supported integrating experiential learning into existing courses in community gardening. The innovative pedagogical technique was to mobilize a variety of capitals to recruit and retain vocational students interested in the building trades.

Key Factors in Tribal College Successes As part of the participatory research project, we engaged participants in discussion about key factors that contribute to a pedagogy to successfully invest local assets and grow them as part of Native American students’ ongoing vocational learning.

Building Knowledge in the Tribal Context Vocational instructors who participated with the students in the programme noted that they learned more than construction skills. The instructors focused on the leadership skills and team work skills acquired by this form of pedagogy. Many students working on this project have gone on to use their leadership and teamwork training skills in new endeavours. The fact that cultural capital provided the basis for collaboration, design and construction changed the way building trades are taught at Turtle Mountain, by making the knowledge and skills shared more environmentally and culturally relevant to their students.

Contributions to Community and Self-Sufficiency: Building upon Culture Turtle Mountain Community College built more than a straw building. They utilized natural capital for materials, starting with cultural capital: college interest in alternative house construction was integrated into the vocational curriculum. Such an interest encouraged continual building of bridging and bonding social capital as the vocational curriculum becomes more innovative and greener. These investments led to increased capital on the reservation. Cultural capital increased as participants were exposed to the cultural basis of construction decisions. Human capital increased as participants developed new skills and knowledge about building, forming relationships and increased leadership skills. Social capital increased through the new links among students, faculty, tribal volunteers and outside groups. Financial capital increased through support for the project and increased income for participants. The new building was the increase in built capital for Turtle Mountain Community College to in turn increase human capital. Most important, a new way of learning culturally and environmentally appropriate building skills was integrated into the curriculum.

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Conclusions By mobilizing cultural capital and taking control of their own vocational education, tribal and native-serving colleges in the United States have come a long way in overcoming the failed vocational education structures set up by the US Government to make Indigenous people ‘white’ and with skills that allowed them to occupy only the bottom of the occupational ladder positions. The tribes founded the colleges in order to link cultural capital with all forms of community capital. The colleges created programmes that built the Indigenous community while linking it to the larger society. As one interviewee from the Alaska Native Alaskan-Serving College at Nome put it, students learned that they could ‘study and fish’ – be in both worlds, and not have to choose, as fishing represents the traditional culture and studying the modern. The linear model of teaching of the dominant educational system has been a sure path to failure for many native peoples – as well as many people of European and African descent. Tribal colleges recognize the primacy of cultural capital for building human capital, and its importance in creating social capital. This is a strength of tribal colleges. These colleges stand in stark contrast to the boarding school and missionary efforts that were inflicted on native peoples in the United States, which focused on eliminating tribal cultural capital with a narrow emphasis on financial capital through wage labour. The learning environment of tribal colleges, with careful attention to the links between natural capital and cultural capital, builds the human capital of tribal members through attention to health, traditional and specialized skills and self-esteem. Both Fort Berthold Community College and Turtle Mountain Tribal College enhance the social capital of their students through institutional linkages not only to other higher education institutions, but also through linkages to civil society. A vocational curriculum that includes such skills in the innovation that equips students – and faculty – for the changing circumstance caused by changes in the climate and the economy is a critical input. Tribal colleges are a force for positive change; they preserve the culture and languages by expanding their practice, and they provide native people with the training, skills and connections to make their way in two worlds. Yet, despite the energy and exuberance of tribal colleges, they must work every day to address the challenges of inadequate funding, reliance on one-time grants and high turnover rates among staff and faculty. The challenge is to build political capital to ensure their ability to offer their innovative programmes. The new Obama White House initiative on Tribal Colleges and Universities, in place over several administrations, may enhance their social, political and financial capital.

References Adams, D. W. (1995). Education for extinction: American Indians and the boarding school experience, 1875–1928. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Ambler, M. (1997–1998). A community responsibility for welfare reform. Tribal College Journal, 9, 8–11.

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American Indian Higher Education Consortium, The Institute for Higher Education Policy. (2001). Building strong communities: Tribal colleges as engaged institutions. Alexandria, VA: AIHEC. Archives of the West. (2009). 1887–1914. Public Broadcasting System. Retrieved May 25, 2009, from www.pbs.org/weta/thewest/resources/archives/eight/dawes.htm Black, S. S. (1994). Redefining success in community development: A new approach for determining and measuring the impact of development. Tufts University, Medford, MA: Richard Schramm Paper on Community Development, The Lincoln Filene Center. Boyer, E. L. (1989). Tribal colleges: Shaping the future of native America. Princeton, NJ: The Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching. Bregendahl, C., & Flora, C. B. (2003). Native American business participation in e-commerce: An assessment of technical assistance and training needs. (RRD 185). Ames, IA: North Central Regional Center for Rural Development. Retrieved May 24, 2009, form http://www.ag.iastate. edu/centers/rdev/pubs/contents/ecommercebook.pdf Casey, C. (1997–1998). Entrepreneurs stimulate tribal economies. Tribal College Journal, 9, 12–14. Child, B. J. (1998). Boarding school seasons: American Indian families, 1900–1940. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. Cole, W. M. (2006). Accrediting culture: An analysis of tribal and historically black college curricula. Sociology of Education, 79, 355–387. Cornell, S., & Kalt, J. P. (2010). American Indian-self-determination: The political economy of a policy that works Faculty Research Working Paper Series, Harvard Kennedy School RWP10043: 13. Davis, J. (2001). American Indian boarding school experiences: Recent studies from native perspectives. Organization of American Historians Magazine of History 15. Retrieved May 25, 2009, from http://www.oah.org/pubs/magazine/deseg/davis.html Ellis, H. C. (1987). From the battle in the classroom to the battle for the classroom. American Indian Quarterly, 11, 255–264. Emery, M., & Fey, S. (2007). Promising practices: Stories of success in tribal and native-serving colleges. Ames, IA: North Central Regional Center for Rural Development. Flora, C. B., Bregendahl, C., & Fey, S. (2007). Mobilizing internal and external resources for rural community development. In R. D. Knutson, S. D. Knutson, & D. P. Ernstes (Eds.), Perspectives on 21st century agriculture: A tribute to Walter J. Armbruster (pp. 210–220). Chicago, IL: The Farm Foundation. Flora, C. B., & Flora, J. L. (2008). Rural communities: Legacy and change (3rd ed.). Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Grinder, D. A., Jr. (2004). Taking the Indian out of the Indian: U.S. policies of ethnocide through education. Wicazo Sa Review, 19, 25–32. Lomawaima, K. T. (1994). They called it prairie light: The story of Chilocco Indian school. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. Mandan, Hidatsa, & Arikara Nation Website. Retrieved June 25, 2009, from http://www. mhanation.com/main/history.html Stein, W. J. (1986). Indian/tribal studies programmes in the tribally controlled community colleges. Wicazo Sa Review, 2, 9–33. Tribal College Research and Database Initiative. (2001). Building strong communities: Tribal colleges as engaged institutions. Alexandria, VA: American Indian Higher Education Consortium. Turtle Mountain Band of Chippewa Indians. (2009). Retrieved June 25, 2009, from http://www. tmbci.net White House Initiative on Tribal Colleges and Universities. (2009). Retrieved June 25, 2009, from http://www.ed.gov/about/inits/list/whtc/edlite-tclist.html#list

Chapter 8

TVET Identities in Knowledge Work: Gender and Learning in a Globalizing Industry Irene Malcolm

Introduction Through a range of changes, globalization exercises a continued impact on working lives, affecting workers’ identities and learning. To shed light on this and explore some implications for TVET futures, this chapter examines an under-researched area of the new economy, namely, the software localization industry where companies undertake the work of globalizing electronic communication. Adopting a feminist perspective on work, learning and the development of professional selfconcepts, I examine TVET among workers in this industry, and consider ways in which gender and knowledge validation in TVET trajectories interact with work structures. The chapter is based on empirical research at an international conference, as well as interviews with workers and company owners in the UK, Ireland and South America. In a contextual and relational examination of the learning identities of two groups of interviewees within the same occupational area, I consider diverse trajectories and identifications that shed light on relevant issues for the future of TVET in globalization. This chapter draws on data from a conference study and from interviews with two groups of knowledge workers. It is aligned to one of the book’s key themes, namely, the effect of knowledge management on workers’ learning and identities, and it raises some fundamental questions about the values that should underpin the future development of TVET. I examine some implications of outsourcing as part of global competition, and explore its relation to learning and to professional identities constituted through TVET. The data reflect two contrasting employment formats in a particular part of the new economy. In the chapter that follows I first define localization and describe the nature of the study. Second, I review some existing literature that deals with globalization, work,

I. Malcolm (B) School of Education, Social Work and Community Education, College of Arts and Social Sciences, University of Dundee, Dundee, DD14HN, Scotland e-mail: [email protected]

R. Catts et al. (eds.), Vocational Learning, Technical and Vocational Education and Training: Issues, Concerns and Prospects 14, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-1539-4_8,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2011

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gender and learning. Third, I present the trajectories of outsourced workers to highlight how diverse forms of TVET exist in the same supply chain with consequences for forms of professionalism and power. Finally, I describe different experiences of knowledge validation that appear to be related to the workers’ positions and power in the global supply chain. In the light of questions that arise from this exploration, I argue that cultures of equitable working and critical approaches to TVET should underpin its future development.

Definition of Localization Within the industry, localization is defined as taking an ICT product and ‘making it linguistically and culturally appropriate to the target locale (country/region) and language where it will be used and sold’ (Esselink, 2000, p. 3). In practice, this may mean, for example, adapting a DVD or a website, electronic game or software product that is produced, usually in US English, for sale in China or France. The electronic content (e-content) present in such digital products consists in the language texts and software architecture that are a knowledge resource. Through a process of localization, this resource can be marketed in different parts of the world. The distribution of e-content to new markets as part of globalization allows the creator of the original product to obtain money back for the development (leverage) and to increase the financial return through the adaptation of the original product for other locales. Localization developed in the 1980s in desktop publishing with the production of software packages and educational products that were required to operate in a range of languages and cultures as they began to be marketed globally. Localization is inextricably linked to developments in globalization and electronic global communication over the last 30 years. However, since 90 per cent of content is localized from US English into other languages (Schäeler & Hall, 2005), the process is less obvious to Anglophones than to speakers of other languages. Most citizens in rich countries are aware of globalization, yet very few know about the integral role played by software localization in global communication. The paradox of localization is that the better it is, the more invisible its processes are. Localization deals with products familiar to many households in western countries, yet its detailed processes are hidden from view. Localization is accomplished in a complex supply chain where workers’ distinct and specialized work draws on the particular learning trajectories and identities of those involved. In this chapter I examine the development of the learning identities of workers in two separate, but interconnected parts of the localization work process: • one group of workers (translators) carries out linguistic and cultural adaptations to the texts in electronic products for overseas markets, and • the other group (localizers) re-engineers the products to function in those markets.

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Software localization is a multimillion-dollar industry,1 and its role in the dissemination of cultures in electronic global communication is crucial. However, to date there are no published studies of TVET in this part of the knowledge economy, and there is a lack of debate in education about the learning implications of such seemingly hidden knowledge work.

The Study The qualitative research that informs the discussion in this chapter was conducted over a number of years between 2003 and 2008. It was based on a participant observer study at an international conference and on interviews with workers and company owners from the UK, continental Europe, Ireland and South America. A feminist methodology supported a theorization of power in the lives of interviewees and the method used to penetrate the interview data was Critical Discourse Analysis (CDA) (Fairclough, 2003; Gee, 1999). While the work of the interviewees in the two occupational groups described above was complementary, the work formats were distinct with localizers employed in agencies and translators being outsourced homeworkers. Whereas software localization is relatively new, translation is ancient, involving the rendering of text in another language. Translation, as an activity that is part of information exchange and cultural transmission, has been traced by some to beginnings in the 6th century BC between India and Mediterranean countries.2 The key workers who contribute to the localization supply chain thus have very different professional histories. However, in the localization industry the distinction between localization and translation was often blurred in the marketing of localization to customers. The interdependence of the two activities may explain why ‘localization’ is often used, particularly in the United States, to encompass both text translation and software (re)engineering. While there are studies that examine the professional trajectories of translators (Gold & Fraser, 2002), there has been no work that takes a broader perspective of this industry and the implications of its TVET.

Feminist Understanding of Globalization, Work and Learning Literature on work and learning in the new economy appears to neglect gendered aspects of global outsourcing in technological areas of employment. Some received views of globalization are challenged in the present chapter as I analyse implications of the phenomenon at the level of everyday work and learning. I draw on feminist epistemology that has contributed to the politicization of ideas of women’s 1 http://www.lisa.org/

(last accessed 5.12.08) the British Council’s summary of translation history: http://www.literarytranslation.com/art/ history/ (last accessed: 5. 12.08)

2 See

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work and learning (Devos, 2002), by linking the home with corporations, banks and markets. By examining divergent TVET trajectories, the present chapter explores globalization, not as an ineluctable force that is beyond the effects of human agency, but as a discourse about capitalism, building on evidence that international competition stimulates the organization of forms of homeworking (see Lawson, 1995, cited in Nagar, Lawson, McDowell, & Hanson, 2002, p. 272). The role of women in delivering the efficiency of globalization is identified in the ‘flexibilization’ and ‘casualization’ of women’s labour to keep costs down (Nagar et al., ibid, p. 17; Gillard, Howcroft, Mitev, & Richardson, 2007). In this way I conceptualize globalization as part of the human social world within which TVET is also located. In this chapter, questions for the future education and training of workers are analysed in a broad context, in relation to globalization as a social and cultural phenomenon which interacts with power and operates through individual lives. The present literature on workplace learning presents some drawbacks in its relative neglect of gender as a focus for analysis (Billett & Pavlova, 2005; Hager, 2005). While women’s roles are hidden in work within this globalizing industry (Gillard et al., 2007), the technological characteristic of globalization is visible and marked as masculine (Bray, 2007). Although ‘place is central to many of the circuits through which economic globalization is constituted’ (Sassen, 2002, p. 161; Nagar et al., 2002), a seeming neutralization of place arises through the use of technology and global communications. In the localizer data, this contributed to a concealment of women’s work in homeworking. The critique of Nagar and her colleagues integrates economic globalization and feminist understanding of global processes. The relevance of this work to the present chapter consists in the emphasis placed on actors who are concealed in globalization at informal sites where they contribute to the global economy. Nagar and her colleagues criticize the neglect of particular spheres of globalization, reflected in ‘households and communities; in daily practices of caring, consumption, and religion. . .’ (p. 260). The authors shed light on a context of work in informal spheres such as homeworking that ‘underwrite and actively constitute the public spheres of globalization’ (p. 260). The authors point to the fact that informal ‘economies of production’ subsidize global capitalism through ‘cheapening production in homework’ (p. 261). Nagar and colleagues argue for a need to analyse the interdependence between ‘formal and informal circuits of globalization’ in order to reveal how globalization depends on ‘gendered processes of marginalization’ (p. 262), but also on the resistances to these. Despite the centrality of gender to homeworking in the operation of globalization, feminist analyses have been neglected and the link between globalization and ‘culturally specific productions of gender difference’ (p. 261) have been ignored. The argument that research should engage with neglected sites in globalization resonates with other studies of women’s lives (Gillard et al., 2007; Nussbaum & Glover, 1995; Unterhalter & Dutt, 2001). Although she does not deal specifically with globalizing industries, Tara Fenwick’s work on women’s learning in the new economy presents an extensive study of conditions in Canada. Fenwick’s writing on women and work (2001, 2004, 2006, 2008) addresses questions of gender, identity and learning that are germane

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to the considerations of this chapter. In research on women’s learning in contract work (2008), Fenwick studies the practices that women learn in order to manage boundaryless work conditions. She reviews the main influences of the knowledge economy on the work patterns and learning of interviewees. Taking as her theme contradictions and paradoxes in the way portfolio workers view their employment, Fenwick emphasises that, for women, there are particular gendered demands. Like Mirchandani (2000) Fenwick draws attention to the heterogeneity of work formats in boundaryless employment. However, she notes that while the contract work of her research participants is set in unique spaces, analysis of the women interviewees’ management of their work revealed ‘under-recognized dynamics in contract work and . . . problems with its conditions’ (Fenwick, 2008, p. 12). Fenwick discusses these in relation to practices that influence learning, concluding with a consideration of educational implications. Fenwick identifies the instability of knowledge, linked to a concealment of practices, and devotes considerable attention to the notion of a ‘hidden’ profession, linking the hidden nature of contract work to women’s gendered positioning where ‘gendered hierarchies . . . undervalue women’s knowledge’ (Fenwick, 2008, p. 14). While the arguments contained in Fenwick’s article (2008) have synergies with themes in this chapter, her work also presents an area of tension with the present study. Fenwick argues that the work of women contractors is marked by contradictions that derive from their gendered positions and their failure to take account of emotional labour as part of work that was not ‘recognized, valued or rewarded’ (ibid, 2008, p. 24), presenting challenges for women’s learning. However, while Fenwick ascribes this to the women’s boundaryless situation, as I demonstrate, knowledge work in the present research is boundaryless and bounded at the same time, placing emotional demands on workers who attempt to set their own boundaries, and preserve their own specialist knowledge. This raises a number of questions in relation to the problem of workers’ control that I explore below. I now examine how some of these themes, discussed in relation to the literature, are developed in the present study.

Empirical Data: the Positioning of Workers, Value Regimes and Career Trajectories I consider how localization workers were positioned within dominant value regimes. In doing so, I examine the constraining effect of the interaction between these regimes and learning identities. Gendered identities and bounded work roles emerged as significant in the organization of global communication, and TVET trajectories were a crucial element of this. I describe how work in the localization industry was organized and the connection between workers’ ability to draw on their vocational backgrounds and the positions they were able to occupy. Outsourcing as a model of working within a globalization policy was widespread throughout the localization industry. Pierre, a senior manager in an international

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localization and business consultancy company, described how this dominant mode of working affected employment patterns and working lives in his company. Although localization was a sizeable part of the value of the business, the company engaged only 15 or so full-time employees in translation: . . . there are about two hundred people working throughout the UK or throughout the company. The translation division it’s about between ten and fifteen. . . I mean most of it’s outsourced you know: we employ a large database of translators who are based round the world (Pierre, 3).

The trend towards the kind of outsourcing described by Pierre was already evident in the 1980s when Jennifer, one of the translator interviewees, qualified. She described its impact on her employment choices and how it made contract homeworking inevitable, militating against her obtaining the status of employee which had been her preferred option: I very much wanted to get an in-house job, but it was interesting. We spent a couple of days making the rounds of some of the companies like Shell, BP, the Central Electricity Generating Board, places that had or had had fairly large translating sections. They were all cutting back. You could see that that was the way things were going. . . (Jennifer, 1).

While most translators in the UK are women,3 the technical roles in software localization were male-dominated (Faulkner, 2004) and these roles, such as web developer, for example, tended to be more visible. On the other hand, women’s contributions to the translation part of the process were concealed at informal sites of globalization work. Within the localization companies, the work that the women interviewees talked about was of an administrative and organizational nature, while the men talked about technological developments and strategic management. The gendered positioning of women and the male positioning as company owner, strategist or technologist suggested more powerful positions for men. However, suggestions of a gender dualism were disrupted, and the gendering of roles in the data was complicated by a number of factors, including the fact that one of the translator homeworkers was male (Martin). The complexity of gender in the data was confirmed by the concerns raised by two of the men at the conference about problems around work/life balance. Discussions with conference delegates revealed tensions, albeit different in nature and in time/effort, for both men and women in managing the domestic sphere and fulfilling work commitments in the knowledge economy: Met Lawrence from Miresap (a large global software company) at lunch on the day of the preconference. He joined the company 15 years ago and used to work ‘crazy hours’. Everyone in the office was young and all of them ‘could do it’. Now it has changed and they have families, so they need to get a work-life balance, so they now work 9–10 h a day. He referred to dropping the children off in the morning. He says that employees in Miresap are about 60% male and 40% female, but if you look at the areas where they work, the women are in HR, marketing and not engineering (Conference notebook, 3).

3 The gender balance is 68.7 per cent female (1875) and 31.3 per cent male (854), as confirmed in private email correspondence with Parveen Mann of the Institute of Translation and Interpreting, dated 23.2.07.

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Anja (a senior employee in a localization company) made a point of telling me that she had done the cooking and other household things for the days when she would be away at the conference (Conference notebook, 6). Elsewhere in the data: Anja talked about the quality of life in Townster being good. She hadn’t far to commute. She used to be full-time, but now that she has children she works part time. She told me: ‘Women do the domestic stuff’ (Conference notebook, 7).

Paradoxically, this complex gendering of work roles and structures suggested in the data was inverted in the male company owners’ rehearsal of discursive constructions of flat hierarchies and modern management practices in their companies: . . .people are not uptight, and they respect one another. There’s no need for and no unnecessary formality, and there are no closed hierarchies or anything like that and I just don’t think there’s any bullshit (Paul, 19).

The claim to openness and equity was an important part of Paul’s company culture that he developed as a localization company owner. However, this was one in a series of paradoxes in the data, where company cultures that implied gender equality masked constraining boundaries and gendered roles. The impression of an inclusive and participatory culture was at odds with the positioning of women in particular roles in the industry and the consistent identification of technology with male identity. Software engineers and tools developers referred to in the data were always male: . . .it was offered by the guys who wrote software. . . (Martin, 11). . . .they already have a developer. . .he. . . (Lucy, 2).

Technology assumed a symbolic force in the interviewees’ discourses, representing quality in descriptions of vocational practices. David, a localization company owner, highlighted a clear value dimension in his description of the division of labour in the localization industry. David described how software development was regarded as a key function in company competitiveness that had to be retained in-house, while outsourced (and ‘feminized’) translation skills could be easily accessed in the global market: In terms of translation, the necessary resources were always there, and in fact they’re now probably easier to be in communication with, than they were before. The part of the resources in the localization end (software development) were always things that we had to have in-house because that expertise was not as thick on the ground. . . (David, 3).

While these value regimes were linked to the way the industry was structured, they also had implications for individual identities and the validation of TVET knowledge. I now discuss an example from the data of the impact of these values and of gendered positioning in Lucy’s and David’s contrasting experiences of business development. Lucy was the co-owner of a localization company and David was the MD of his company. The experiences that they described drew on their professional identities and on value regimes in their industry. The latter highlighted the way that some TVET trajectories were valorized, while other (seemingly feminized) TVET

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experiences appeared to be disadvantageous for the development of business opportunity. Lucy indicated how boundary drawing in the industry constrained her access to certain high-value work. For example, undertaking high-value software design in the localization process would have assisted Lucy in building her business and developing a more complex relationship with her customers. When talking about the service, and how she had originally envisaged this, she said she had wanted to . . . do higher value sort of website work. . . we can actually work editing the files directly, we have done that. . . (Lucy, 3).

However, Lucy had failed to obtain contracts and had not been able to work across the language/technology boundary. In fact, (male) web developers appeared to have control over the choices customers made about translation suppliers. When giving feedback on a failed bid, a customer indicated that the decision had been based on the view of the web developer with whom Lucy’s company would have collaborated, had it been successful: . . .your price is better, but my developer, well he refuses to post in4 on something. . . and that was very frustrating . . . (Lucy, 2).

Lucy found her business development impeded by boundaries within the supply chain and influenced by the powerful role of the (male) web developer. While Lucy appeared to be constrained by boundary drawing, David’s experience was rather different. David was able to draw on his technical and vocational education and training as a qualified engineer to become regarded as an insider by the male computer engineers who controlled the technological products that were being localized: What we noticed as a technical writing company is that we were working very closely with the development, the engineering and the quality assurance people within our client companies, and our clients were largely companies in the IT sector. . . (David, 1).

An identity drawn from his vocational education and training in a seemingly masculinized area of work allowed David to offer the kind of service that Lucy had tried unsuccessfully to develop and to position himself as a trusted colleague to his customer. Interviewees’ vocational learning trajectories interacted with gendered identities. Paul owned a localization company, and although he had studied languages as an undergraduate, it was important that his vocational identity should be associated with technology, rather than linguistics, as a marker of male identity (Bray, 2007). Paul said he would be a ‘bad translator’, and emphasized his technological skills as part of a ready aptitude, rather than as the outcome of vocational learning: Paul’s discourse linked his masculine identity and his relationship with the client to his knowledge of technology:

4 Here the customer tells Lucy that his web developer is not willing to work with her. To ‘post in’ is a metaphor taken from on-line discussions where you ‘post’ your comments to take part in the discussion.

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. . .I mean I deal with the key clients who I really have developed a relationship with where I think that, that relationship is you know a good reason why they buy from us. I need to make sure that their needs are met and where you need a technological understanding for the relationship. . . (Paul, 18).

TVET trajectories are implicated in value regimes that interact with complex and restrictive boundary-drawing practices and identities among these workers. As I demonstrate, this presents a challenge for the future development of TVET that will be able to support equal opportunities in global working. The predominance of new forms of technological working, and their interplay with male identities (Herman, Hodgson, Kirkup, & Whitelegg, 2011) are among the challenges.

Professional Identities and TVET Trajectories in Global Working Localizers’ concepts of professionalism and their TVET trajectories were different in character from those of translators, and I now describe how differing professional identities were related to different cultures of vocational education. Power and gendered identities within the localization industry influenced value hierarchies which interacted with interviewees’ TVET trajectories. In the remainder of the chapter I focus on shared concepts of identity drawn from vocational learning and from the nature of localizers’ work in the industry. First, I describe the learning development of translators, then the very different trajectories of localizers. While forms of TVET were closely connected to the identity work of localizers and translators, they were linked in complex ways to the roles that they performed. Localizers did identity work as entrepreneurs, embedded in company cultures that drew on forms of technical masculinity. Translators’ identities, on the other hand, were drawn from their professional development and influenced by their particular forms of professional learning. In the last section of the chapter I explore some power implications of these interactions to suggest that attention be paid to equitable cultures and critical approaches to learning in TVET.

Working in Globalization as a Professional Translator The translators had clear and bureaucratized professional structures of apprenticeship, peer scrutiny and a code of ethics (see below) which made their status as homeworkers, usually seen as low skilled (Felstead, 1996), and their technical and vocational education and training paradoxical. The occupation of a freelance translator is generally seen to reflect new forms of professionalism, marked by flexibility and boundaryless work (Gold & Fraser, 2002). However, there were tensions between the received vocational identity of translators, drawn from their professionalized technical and vocational education and training, and their de facto position

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in the global supply chain for localized e-content where they contributed to the low cost of globalization, through homeworking and as a result of the global market in their services. Translators’ professional development in the UK requires degree-level qualifications in a foreign language and, frequently, a postgraduate master’s degree in translation. Thereafter, a form of apprenticeship has to be served and evidence of a prescribed quantity of work deemed to be of an appropriate standard has to be submitted for peer scrutiny. The conditions for entry to the translators’ profession are similar in many western countries. For example, membership of the Austrian Association of Translators and Interpreters requires an undergraduate degree, masters’ degree and professional experience. In both the UK and Austria, applicants require sponsorship by two existing members of the ITI or the Austrian Association respectively. Both the ITI in the UK and the Austrian Association are members of FIT (Fédération Internationale des Traducteurs) an international umbrella organization for translators’ associations throughout the world. Such forms of professionalism and bureaucratized controls are not usually associated with flexible new economy approaches to learning and development (Billett, Fenwick, & Somerville, 2006). Translators’ shared concepts of what it meant to be a professional were shaped by the challenges involved in gaining access to the profession. Jennifer described the demands: [I]f you’re doing a . . . diploma in translation, I think it’s very difficult. I know somebody recently who did a very good degree and worked terrifically hard for the exam, and who failed all the papers on it, and she’s gutted and it’s one of these catch-22 things where without the diploma she won’t be offered the work, but without the work she can’t apply to the ITI and say, ‘I have done my 250,000 words can I now sit for the exam or submit a paper for assessment?’ – it’s very difficult – you really need these qualifications now (Jennifer, 13).

Although the professional status of translators could be determined to an extent by the translators’ own TVET through the mechanisms described above, it was also dependent on wider macro-economic factors. This was exemplified in Martin’s description of the differential status accorded to translators in different countries which he associated with global patterns of business activity: . . .the way that translation is viewed by purchasers of translations, the sort of stock of translators isn’t as high in Britain as it is in Germany. Something to do, I suppose, with the fact that most of business in the UK is conducted with America or in English-speaking situations. . . (Martin, 1).

The work context created by globalization facilitated access to translation skills on a global scale through offers of work on websites and through e-auctions of translation commissions. The globalization of their services represented a challenge to translators’ traditional identities and professional cultures.

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Localizers: Diverse TVET Trajectories in Global Working The challenges that Jennifer described in achieving professional status as a translator contrasted with the professional trajectories of localizers who required no formal qualifications and were subject to no professional controls. The localizers like Paul, David and Lucy presented themselves as young entrepreneurs for whom a seemingly natural ability to use ICT was more important to business success than bounded knowledge, linked to vocational training and qualifications or membership of a professional organization. In a discussion of the importance of IT skills in his job, Paul indicated that training and qualifications were not significant: I’ve never trained but. . . I think for my generation it’s just a natural thing that you do this sort of thing, yeah. . .! (Paul, 11).

This is very different from the translators whose professional standards were part of a shared identity, built on superior knowledge developed over time. While the translators’ code of practice implied duties as well as access to certain privileges,5 translators reified their profession and saw themselves as having a duty to protect it: . . .when you start out, you think you have to bend to whatever you’re offered, and you basically are undermining the profession. . . (Suzanne, 7).

Localizers, on the other hand, appeared not to have any barriers to entry to their profession.6 Paul described this apparent freedom: . . . the barriers to entry are so low anyone can set up . . . well like I did in fact, and just say you know, ‘We are going to provide a good service,’ but they won’t actually necessarily do it. . . (Paul, 22).

None of the localizers mentioned being a member of a professional group, and their TVET experiences were very diverse. For localizers, occupational identity was a dispersed and less unified concept than for translators. For localizers, professionalism did not mean particular memberships, codes of ethics or ways of working that were subject to scrutiny. It was a cultural identity that they themselves worked to create and perform, linked to quality as a symbol of professionalism that took the place of organizational memberships in communicating the localization company’s identity: . . .you’re telling them that it’s being done in a professional way, that it’s not just, ‘Hey here’s your bit of paper back’ (Mandy, 14).

While translators reified their profession, in the localizers’ discourses it was the localization industry that was significant to identity work, and it was the localization industry that was reified: 5 The

‘Code of Professional Conduct’: http://www.iti.org.uk/pdfs/newpdf/ 20FHCodeOfConductIndividual.pdf (last accessed 16.10.09) 6 There have been moves to professionalize localization. TILP (The Institute of Localisation Professionals) the professional body has introduced a professional qualification in localization. The profession’s website is: http://www.tilponline.org/ (last accessed 16.10.09)

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I don’t think the industry will benefit from that, and we are very respectful of the industry (Carmen, 6).

Despite the absence of a set professional trajectory, localizers anchored their identities in particular experiences of TVET when this was of direct business benefit (see the quote from David above). The extent to which TVET informed the identities which localizers sought to forge was a matter of choice and part of a marketing decision. David’s identity work as an engineer influenced his company culture and opened up business opportunities. Against this background, localizers’ discourses of quality practice, linked to technology was, in part, a response to the lack of any regulated TVET and the absence of bureaucratized controls that reviewed quality. As such, the professional concept of the localizers suggested a susceptibility to influence, as companies’ practices were exposed to the competition of global capitalism.

Professional Power, Knowledge and Validation For the globalization workers interviewed there were considerable contradictions that related to their TVET, to the economic market for their skills and to work formats such as homeworking. Paradoxically, those who had received most rigorous TVET and were subjected to professional controls were positioned on the margins, as outsourced workers contributing to the low cost aspect of the global economy. To conclude this discussion, I now examine how TVET knowledge and globalization work interacted with the positioning of the translators in the industry and how the power of individual translators was challenged by the global context of their work. This tension was set in an area that is crucial to professionalism and regarded as a cornerstone in maintaining professional status, namely, the control of knowledge (Lawn, 1996). Despite the length and depth of their vocational learning and supervision, Jennifer talked about the fact that translators lacked access to contextual knowledge, due to their supply chain position and the absence of direct contact with the customer and end-user. As part of the contract between the translator and the organization that commissioned her/him, such contact was usually forbidden. Jennifer described her frustration with the difficulties of accessing the knowledge needed: So people who commission translations really need to be aware of that, I think, and provide all the resources that they can and the training that they can; people are often loathe to train you. They kind of want you to come knowing all the vocabulary and all the ins and outs of the company, and it’s difficult (Jennifer, 19).

The challenges that translators faced were part of a wider picture of complexity and marginalization in their positions as knowledge workers. This can be illustrated by Suzanne’s (translator) and Paul’s (localization company owner) diverse experiences of knowledge validation which had implications for power and reflected their

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different positioning in the supply chain. The positioning appears to be a reversal of received notions of professional status, traditionally linked to the duration of professional learning (Lawn, ibid). Both Suzanne and Paul worked in the translation and localization of advertising material: Suzanne translated marketing copy and Paul’s company researched potential brand names and advised on their appropriacy in different languages. Suzanne described an occasion when she gave linguistic and cultural advice as to the inappropriate nature of a term a client planned to use in marketing copy. She described how her advice was rejected: I had to translate, it was a line of beauty products, shampoos, conditioners whatever, and it went from English into German and they did a word play with ‘thicker’ and it’s like somebody with a bit of a lisp; so it was ‘thicker hair’ and the German ‘thicker’. . .. (It would translate as ‘fatter’). So I thought . . . I don’t think this’ll go down well. There’s not a woman in Germany who’s going to put that on her hair, and they just didn’t want to budge (Suzanne, 11–12).

Suzanne’s knowledge was not validated, she indicated that she felt her professional reputation was at risk, and she withdrew from the contract. Drawing on Fenwick’s insight (2008) as to the impressionistic ways in which evaluations of outsourced work seem to be made, it appears that Suzanne’s supply chain position as homeworker – distant from the end-user – was relevant to the customer’s rejection of her advice. This analysis seems to be supported when Suzanne’s experience is compared to that of Paul whose company undertook consultancy on the same marketing copy issues that Suzanne dealt with. As the owner of a specialist outsource company, in direct contact with the customer and end-user, Paul’s knowledge of terminology was validated, and advising on appropriate terms to use in overseas marketing campaigns formed a significant part of his business. As a native speaker and qualified ITI member, Suzanne may be regarded as better qualified to advise on translation terminology for marketing than was Paul who had no specialist qualifications. Yet, this seemed to carry little weight in the disagreement with the customer to whom Suzanne was positioned as an outsourced homeworker whose knowledge was devalued. From this position, when her advice was contrary to expectations, it was rejected as invalid. The situation is highly paradoxical, because the advice that Paul provided to his customers would have been facilitated through the services of outsourced experts like Suzanne. The data gathered in the present study revealed tensions between translators’ identities formed over a considerable period of time in their education and training and new contexts of professional practice, influenced by globalization and outsourcing.

Conclusion: TVET Futures In this chapter I have drawn on data from the study of an under-researched area of the knowledge economy. I have discussed the structure of the industry and the significance of outsourcing, workers’ TVET trajectories and professional identities.

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I have explored possible understandings of how interactions between industry structures and the gendering of identity affected the positioning and choices of workers. Rigorous forms of TVET did not always correlate with the status that workers were ascribed within the industry. How far workers drew on TVET experience related to business choices and the need to develop particular customer-facing identities. Among localizers there were no specific TVET trajectories that influenced a shared identity, and the possession of essential skills was something that was automatic, rather than earned through work and study. The role of technology, marked as masculine, and its alignment to professional identities, however, were significant for localizers. Throughout the discourses, technology represented quality, and this appeared to have a symbolic force in localizers’ identity work that was not derived from TVET. In this particular globalizing industry, traditional forms of TVET underpinned knowledge that was concealed from the end-user. The question for the future of TVET is how, among such diverse trajectories, durable knowledge can be sustained and validated. The literature reviewed points to a depoliticization of specifically feminized work activity set in the home, hidden from analytical view and seemingly outside struggles for power. The validation of outsourced knowledge emerged in relation to wider industry structures and company cultures in a way that cast doubt on received notions about the role of TVET and the interactions of power and knowledge in globalization. Future TVET needs to respond to challenges drawn from the lack of equity in some knowledge supply chains. This may be done through critical approaches that avoid the constraints of gendered boundary drawing. Divisions and hierarchical valorization of knowledge impede the free flow and access to knowledge in the new economy (this contradicts or at least complicates some ideas of free-flowing knowledge, see, for example, Gee, Hull, & Lankshear, 1996). TVET can support organizations in addressing such problems, for example, by raising awareness in vocational education of the need for equitable approaches to developing and sharing knowledge in favour of all parties implicated in knowledge work. The analysis in the present chapter also points to the need for future theorizations of learning in TVET that are broad enough to encompass the structures within individual identities, that include gender, but also ‘race’ and class. TVET must also provide future workers with personal attributes of resilience and criticality to defend their interests in a climate of depoliticization in low cost but high-skilled areas of new economy work where the development of homeworking is linked to globalization.

References Billett, S., Fenwick, T., & Somerville, M. (2006). Work, subjectivity and learning. Understanding learning through working life. Dordrecht, Springer. Billett, S., & Pavlova, M. (2005). Learning through working life: Self and individuals’ agentic action. International Journal of Lifelong Education, 24(3), 195–211. Bray, F. (2007). Gender and technology. Annual Review of Anthropology, 36, 37–53. Devos, A. (2002). Gender, work and workplace learning. In: F. Reeve, M. Cartwright, & R. Edwards (Eds.), Supporting lifelong learning: Vol. 2. Organizing learning (pp. 51–63). Suffolk: Open University Press.

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Esselink, B. (2000). A practical guide to localization. Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing. Fairclough, N. (2003). Analysing discourse: Textual analysis for social research. London: Routledge. Faulkner, W. (2004). Strategies of inclusion: Gender and the information society, European commission, 5th Framework, Information Society Technologies (IST) programme. Edinburgh: SIGIS. Felstead, A. (1996). Homeworking in Britain: The national picture in the mid-1990s. Industrial Relations Journal, 27(3), 225–238. Fenwick, T. (Ed.). (2001). Tides of change: New themes and questions in workplace learning. In Sociocultural perspectives on learning through work (pp. 3–18). New York: Willey. Fenwick, T. (2004). What happens to the girls? Gender, work and learning in Canada’s ‘new economy’. Gender and Education, 16(2), 169–185. Fenwick, T. (2006). Contradictions in portfolio careers: Work design and client relations. Career Development International, 11(1), 65–79. Fenwick, T. (2008). Women’s learning in contract work: Practicing contradictions in boundaryless conditions. Vocations and Learning, 1(1), 11–26. Gee, J. P. (1999). An introduction to discourse analysis, theory and method. London: Routledge. Gee, J. P., Hull, G., & Lankshear, C. (1996). The New Work order: Behind the language of the new capitalism. Sydney: Allen and Unwin. Gillard, H., Howcroft, D., Mitev, N., & Richardson, H. (2007). ‘Missing Women’: Gender, ICTs, and the shaping of the global economy. CRESC (Centre for Research on Socio-Cultural Change) Working Paper Series, 29, The University of Manchester. Gold, M., & Fraser, J. (2002). Managing self-management: successful transitions to portfolio careers. Work, Employment and Society, 16(4), 579–597. Hager, P. (2005). Current theories of workplace learning: A critical assessment. In N. Bascia, A. Cumming, A. Datnow, K. Leithwood, & D. Livingstone (Eds.), International handbook of educational policy ( Part Two, pp. 829–846). Dordrecht: Springer. Herman, C., Hodgson, B., Kirkup, G., & Whitelegg, E. (2011). Innovatory educational models for women returners in science, engineering and technology professions. In S. Jackson, I. Malcolm, & K. Thomas (Eds.), Gendered choices. Learning work, identities in lifelong learning (D. N. Aspin & J. D. Chapman (Series Eds.), Lifelong learning book series, Vol. 15) (pp. 53–68). Dordrecht: Springer. Lawn, M. (1996). Modern times? Work, professionalism & citzenship in teaching. London: Falmer Press. Mirchandani, K. (2000). ‘The best of both worlds’ and ‘cutting my own throat’: Contradictory images of home-based work. Qualitative Sociology, 23(2), 159–182. Nagar, R., Lawson, V., McDowell, L., & Hanson, S. (2002). Locating globalization: Feminist (Re)readings of the subjects and spaces of globalization. Economic Geography, 78, 257–284. Nussbaum, M., & Glover, J. (Eds.). (1995). Women, culture and development: A study of human capabilities. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Sassen, S. (Ed.). (2002). Global networks, linked cities. London: Routledge. Schaeler, R., & Hall, P. (2005). The global initiative for local computing. The tenth annual localisation conference: The global initiative for local computing. Conference Proceedings, The Localisation Research Centre, University of Limerick, September 12–13. Unterhalter, E., & Dutt, S. (2001). Gender, education and women’s power: Indian state and civil society intersections in DPEP (District Primary Education Programme) and Mahila Samakhya. Compare, 31(1), 57–73.

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Chapter 9

New Forms of Learning in German TVET – Theoretical Remarks and Empirical Results Michael Göhlich and Nicolas Schöpf

Background: Changed General Framework in Enterprises TVET in Germany has clearly changed in the last 20 years. In the 1980s, vocational education existed in the form of departments of further education with seminar rooms and training programmes within the enterprises, and this was regarded as a proof of professional in-house education. In particular, in-house further education was systematically planned and delivered in a teacher-centred, often top-down, method. This arrangement was successful as long as the work was straightforward and barely evolved in the long term. However, in the last decade, German vocational education has increasingly put the focus on self-organized learning. Conventional forms of qualification which assume a direct equivalence of knowledge and skills taught with the vocational requirements of the workplace were no longer considered sufficient. The core concept is vocational actionability, which means continuous improvement and enhancement achieved by the employees independently initiating new learning. The point is to recognize by oneself the need for knowledge and skills, and to meet these needs by recourse to resources such as the competences of colleagues, or by accessing media with technical information. This transfer of learning responsibility from the enterprise to the employee was made necessary by changes in the regulation and organization of operational procedures in the enterprise. In this context, Voß and Pongratz (1998) refer to ‘externally-organized self-direction’. The decentralization of responsibility in the operational field and the regulation of work by defining aims, the achievement of which employees have to organize on their own, was the answer to shortened product cycles, to the flexibility required in services and to rapidly changing job requirements (Geldermann, Severing & Stahl, 2006). It is obvious that, under these circumstances, a proscribed process for the development of competence leading to a qualification is not achievable by static forms of learning that are inflexible in comparison with the dynamics of the work environment. M. Göhlich (B) Friedrich Alexander University, Erlangen, Germany e-mail: [email protected]

R. Catts et al. (eds.), Vocational Learning, Technical and Vocational Education and Training: Issues, Concerns and Prospects 14, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-1539-4_9,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2011

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The development in the last decade of open-shaped vocations that are responsive to company demands has led to a change in the methods and didactics in initial vocational training in Germany. Learning in the company can now be much more strongly related to the workplace and to the characteristic operations in the vocational field (c.f. Rauner, 2008, p. 1, 11). Consequently, self-regulated learning in the workplace has become the focus of research and practical interest. Formal teaching has been replaced by learning in authentic contexts. In initial vocational training, this requires possibilities to learn through real or simulated projects which are increasingly self-organized by the apprentices and which include individual as well as cooperative forms of learning. Hence, the workplace as a place of learning has undergone a renaissance both in continuing vocational education and in initial vocational training. Learning in the work context is one of the key pillars of TVET in Germany, and it enables situated learning, or, as Rauner terms it, ‘a process of reflected work experience’ (Rauner, 2004, p. 2).

Situated and Self-Directed Learning: Principles and Their Reception in the German Discourse Since the emergence of theories of situated learning in the late 1980s, the study of the teaching-learning process has taken a new direction (Brown, Collins, & Duguid, 1989; Lave, 1988). The concept of situated learning broke away from the tradition of learning as a predictable/fixed process, and which consisted in the main of a context-free transfer of information from the teacher to the learner. The theory of situated learning countered this conception of learning as a continuous knowledge transfer from one person to another with a different perception of the learning process. Situated learning theory conceives the process as a negotiation of meaning in specific contexts, and hence, learning is an interaction between a person’s cognitive structures and context-dependent determining factors including the social environment (Chaiklin, Lave, & Pea, 1996; Lave & Wenger, 1991). At the core of the analysis of situated cognition are systems of activity in which individuals act as members of social groups and as elements of larger systems, to deal and cooperate with resources (c.f. Gerstenmaier & Mandl, 2001, p. 4). Certainly the idea of conceiving learning processes as interactions between situation variables and individual learning is not the only innovative issue anchored in the theory of situated learning. Another essential point concerns the quality and quantity of the socially shared and distributed knowledge, taking into account different aspects such as its development, application and alteration (ibid., p. 5). Crucially, the theory of situated learning does not conceive knowledge as a substance which simply can be memorized and recalled, a perception associated with the ‘mind-as-container metaphor’ (Clancey, 1997). On the contrary, knowledge is believed to be ‘a kind of emergent relation or capacity evolving from ongoing body-brain-world-interactions’ (Law, 1998, p. 33). Knowing and doing are not independent and separated elements. They rather ‘co-evolve and co-define each other in socially organized activity’ (ibid., p. 33). The theory of situated learning conceives learning not as a simple acquisition

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of knowledge and skills, but rather as a development of the ability to interact with other persons and resources in the same environment. The conception of the body-brain-world interaction suggests that the theory of situated learning is not limited to formal and non-formal learning, but also includes types of informal learning, which occurs in everyday situations beyond organized learning contexts. In Germany and Europe, considerable attention is currently given to issues concerning the recognition of informal learning. The development of new approaches in this field has been integrated under the label ‘Accreditation of Prior and Experiential Learning’ (APEL) into the strategy of lifelong learning of the European Commission and aims to enhance the transparency and applicability of learning outcomes (European Commission, 2000, p. 15). The European Credit System for Vocational Education and Training (ECVET) and in particular the European Qualifications Framework (EQF) and national qualifications frameworks (for instance the German National Qualifications Framework DQR) are examples of the implementation of the guiding principle of ‘making learning visible’ (Björnavold, 2000) so that learning outcomes can be comparable in Europe (European Commission, 2008a, 2008b). In proposing their approach to situated learning, Brown et al., (1989) argue that meaningful learning will be achieved if learning is embedded in the social and physical context in which the learning outcomes will later be used. They assert that the main problem of formal learning contexts is that they are often quite distinct from the authentic contexts of activity (Brown et al., 1989, p. 34). The conception that learning contexts and authentic contexts of activity should be closely related has been the subject of many German-language discussions leading to a modified theory of situated learning. From the mid-1990s, two components have become significant for this trend: the community of practice and the use of computers and networks for learning. The empirical research on situated learning put the focus on the system of activity and its cross-linking with people, topics, artefacts, division of labour and regulations. From its formation as an alternative to cognitive learning, the conception of situated learning has grown into a theory about the construction of knowledge within learning environments, in which the work with computer-based tools is a crucial component. The modern computer networks that have become more widely used since the mid-1990s made possible the development of a many-tomany communication within communities of practice and, consequently, the study of shared and distributed knowledge within systems of activity. Since the turn of the millennium, research on situated learning in Germany has focused on the use of multimedia tools, which have taken over the function of learning support resources in learning communities (Henninger & Mandl, 2000). These tools connect members and support the construction of cognitive semantic models within the community. The evaluation of the use of multimedia tools in learning communities, the networking of members and the exchange and construction of knowledge has in recent years been supplemented in Germany by the perspective of organizational learning (Winkler, Reinmann-Rothmeier, & Mandl, 2000) and the study of learning and school culture (Scardamalia & Breiter, 1999). The influence of motivational and emotional factors in the construction of knowledge within learning environments

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and their relevance to the process of self-directed learning is one of the aspects in the theory of situated learning which has as yet not been sufficiently researched.

Self-Directed Learning: Background and Definitions Despite a long debate, which has helped sharpen the term ‘self-directed learning’, this discussion within the TVET discourse in Germany is not yet closed. In addition, a consensual and precise differentiation of self-organized, self-directed or autonomous learning is yet to be agreed on (c.f. Erpenbeck, 1997; Dohmen, 1998). For the German discussion on self-directed learning, the work of Knowles is a centre of reference. Knowles defines self-directed learning as ‘a process in which individuals take the initiative, with or without the help of others, in diagnosing their needs, formulating learning goals, identifying human and material resources for learning, choosing and implementing appropriate learning strategies, and evaluating learning outcomes’ (Knowles, 1975, p. 18). Arnold, Gomez, and Kammerer (2002) extend Knowles’ definition of selfdirected learning by including decisions about the contents of learning and by considering the interests and motivations of the learners. Furthermore, Arnold et al. include the support of the learning in the definition and spotlight the changed role and function of the educational staff: self-directed learning is a process of active acquirement, in which individuals decide about their learning, which includes the possibility to define and to structure their own learning needs, interests and ideas, to consult the necessary human and material resources (inclusive of professional offers of learning aid), to fix and organize their learning targets, content focus, tempo and location of learning as far as possible by themselves, to select and implant adequate methods and to evaluate the success of the learning process and the transfer of the learning results (c.f. Arnold et al., 2002, p. 32). This understanding of self-directed learning involves the dimensions of preparation and participation in learning, but leaves decisions about where to learn and when to seek support to the learner (p. 33).

Situated and Self-Directed Learning as a Pedagogical Learning Theory From the perspective of a genuine pedagogical learning theory, situated and selfdirected learning has to be defined in a slightly more basic way. For a pedagogical theory of learning it is evident that human learning basically proceeds in a situated and self-directed manner. While psychological theories of learning conceive learning as extrinsically driven to achieve changes of behaviour and/or cognitive structures, the pedagogical theory of learning (c.f. Göhlich & Zirfas, 2007) has in mind the human signification of the content aspects and the multimodality of learning. From the pedagogical perspective, learning is defined as the

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experience-reflexive process of production of knowledge and competence, which has an influence on learners and on their liveability and mode of life as well as their ability and mode to learn (c.f. Göhlich & Zirfas, 2007, p. 180). Modally, learning is experience-related, dialogical, sensible and holistic: • Experience-related, because learning always ties in with experiences and effects (as regards content or structural) modifications of experience, since, when the learner has learnt something, not only can the person know or do things differently, but has also become a different person and will in future approach situations with a new experiential base. • Dialogic, because learning is not only an individual process, but also a dialogical struggle with oneself or something other (or, as applicable, with oneself as other, with one’s own knowledge, abilities, skills, habits, etc. as other); a struggle which is co-determined by the (personal, material or notional) other in form or mode and content. Therefore, from a pedagogical point of view, it is necessary to pay attention to the figuration of the particular other. • Sensible, because in the learning itself a sense of process forms, which furthers or inhibits learning, which deflects or focuses learning, and which finally is contingent, thus opening and closing horizons of the possible. • Holistic, because learning is not only a change of behaviour or change of a cognitive structure, but also an integral process which, due to the contingency of sense, opens options of transformation beyond the specific focus of the subject matter and thereby touches the whole learner (and the world related with the person) and transforms the person beyond the immediate content focus. It is necessary to distinguish the different aspects of the learning process, including learning to know, learning to do, learning to live and learning to learn (c.f. Göhlich, 2001, pp. 232 ff.). Learning to know (Wissen-Lernen) is ideally a purely matter-of-fact process. In this sense, corporal, social, emotional and linguistic learning are thought of as being purely factual. Learning to know in this sense is ‘objective’; the learner grasps what is to be learned as an object which exists outside of the learner and which can consequently be divested by the teacher and received by the learner. Therefore, learning to know is traditionally closely connected with formalized, externally controlled situations of learning, such as in school. It seems to be detachable from the person and thus to be deliverable on its own. The close connection between learning to know and the school leads to the assumption that knowledge is testable on standardizable criteria rather than specific to the individual person. Learning to know in this bounded sense means to acquire a canonized and curricular knowledge, related to technical and vocational education and training and to the workplace, such as knowledge of technical terms, programmes and blueprints. But in its full sense, learning to know only takes place where the knowledge is passed down abstracted from experience. The second aspect of learning is learning to do (Können-Lernen). To do is the internalized, repeatable and unreflected ability, a process security which becomes routine and finally automatic, shifted to the subconscious. As corporal, verbal,

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emotional and social learning, an ability does not become objective but remains interiorized. Because an ability is not separable from its actor and the activity for which it is needed, it cannot be communicated in speech and writing, can only be performed in the activity and be learned by mimesis, by trying and feeling one’s own way and by repeated practice. Mimesis in this context means the acquirement of cultural practice and cultural forms of expression by way of creative reproduction. Mimesis not only means imitation or mimicry, but also the creative practice of action in which the individual gets a relation to its environment. It is an anthropological phenomenon and a condition sine qua non for learning (c.f. Wulf, 2007). The difficulty of pedagogical support for learning to do is on the one hand to make possible the imitation of a ‘correct’ performance, and on the other hand to enable not only imitation but mimesis, which is the playful individual transformation of a model. For a ‘correct’ performance, multiple repetitions are necessary in order to gain security in developing the ability, while for transformation it is necessary to extend the ability to the level of an art. Besides imitation and mimesis, practice is an important mode of learning to do. Here, informal learning comes to a certain limit, and exercising seems to suggest a formalization. Practice mainly consists of repeating certain forms of activities but can also include (self-) perception and examination of the repeated practice in comparison with an external or internal model or standard. The aspect of learning to live (Leben-Lernen) has not explicitly been described in pedagogical discourse until the twentieth century. The connotation of learning to live can be distinguished in six facets, or steps, which are not always separate from one another: learning to survive, learning to cope with life, learning to be emancipated, biographic learning, learning to live life as an art and learning to die (Göhlich & Zirfas, 2007). In the vocational field, the important facets are learning to cope with life, learning to be emancipated, and biographic learning. Learning to cope with life aims at possibilities of self-assertion and the ability to act despite social pressure and economic burdens. The point is to appropriate public spaces, to take on and configure roles within them, to overcome conflicts and to get to know the boundaries and possibilities of life. Learning to emancipate, or learning to live critically, is very important today. A person who cannot take a firm and critical stand in the world of consumption, of advertisement and of information overload, falls prey to the interests of others. Learning to emancipate means the ability to say no to the given (vocational and/or organizational) frame of life and its possibilities. Biographic learning enables the individual life story to be focused as a learning history. In vocation and enterprise contexts biographic learning aims at the attainment of work-life balance and personal consistency in vocational and workplace change. The aspect of learning to learn (Lernen-Lernen) involves acquiring abilities and skills to handle learning situations and learning processes, and to transform any situation into a learning situation. Learning to learn involves transversely going through the other aspects, and occurs concurrently in all learning. Whoever learns a certain knowledge, ability or mode of living, thereby also learns the way in which this learning proceeds and succeeds.

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Recapitulation and Classification Summing up this pedagogical theory, learning is understood primarily as situated and self-directed when its modality is sensible, experience-related, dialogic and holistic and its content combines learning to know, to do, to live and to learn. From this perspective, the emphasis of situatedness and self-direction in learning (which in the following will be practised by ourselves as well) is tautologic and understandable only from a historic point of view, even as a counter balance to the dominating instruction-oriented understanding of learning. Only in this sense as a counter balance can the term ‘self-directed learning’ gain its authorization.

Case Studies of Situated and Self-Directed Learning in German TVET Below, we present three case studies of the practice of vocational and in-house continuing education and training in Germany that show the increasing attention to, and demand for, situated and self-directed learning. The first example is the evaluation of two pilot projects in initial vocational education. Here, the implementation of self-directed learning is mainly related to the learning space, namely, the vocational school. The second example is a pilot project on autonomous learning in an enterprise which dealt with the implementation of new forms of learning in workplace-based further education. The third example are results of a research project on yearly appraisal interviews between managers and staff members which are seen as spaces of situated learning and pedagogic practice.

Research and Innovation in German TVET – The Instrument ‘Model Schemes’ Before we go into the explanation of the case studies in detail, we outline their research basis and the role of what are termed ‘model schemes’. Especially since the turn of the millennium the implementation of situated learning in the German context has concentrated on multimedia-based learning environments. Hence research activities into situated learning have focused on multimedia-based learning environments and have been closely aligned with constructivist learning theory. A feature of such research has been the development of the instrument known as the model scheme which was developed for the research on self-directed learning. Examples of model-scheme activities in the context of self-directed learning are the centre of our reflections that follow. For about 30 years, model schemes have been used as instruments for research and innovation in TVET in Germany. They are carried out on the basis of an agreement for the coordinated preparation, realization and research evaluation of initiatives in the educational system between the Federal Government and the

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Federal States in Germany. Model schemes are used to test out theoretical and practical concepts in TVET and are intended as exemplary and transferable approaches to solving problems and exploring new strategies. They are established as one of the central instruments to analyse and develop TVET and further education. A distinctive feature of model schemes is an interest in research and awareness. Model schemes allow a specific approach to fields of action for a longer period of time and this is a characteristic distinction of applied, quantitative, empirical research practice. It is on this collaboration between science and practice that the heuristic potential of model schemes is founded. Model schemes provide a platform for relevant research problems which can be taken up and pursued beyond model schemes as well (Euler & Dehnbostel, 1998, p. 496). It is a characteristic of model schemes that they generally do not involve a large-scale survey. Rather, model schemes take heuristic approaches with small samples and try to develop their results bottom-up as a kind of best practice. They generally include an evaluation which analyses the achievement of objectives, to deduce general thesis and statements from the results and to ensure the transfer and dissemination of the results. The subsequent case studies in self-directed learning in TVET and further education belong to the category of model schemes. The elements of empirical research and evaluation needed within the projects will be described in conjunction with the presentation of the results.

Implementation of Self-Directed Learning in Vocational Initial Education The two pilot projects segel-bs and mosel had the goal of implementing self-directed learning in initial academic vocational education. The projects were part of the programme SKOLA – self-directed and cooperative learning in TVET of the Federation and federal states commission for educational planning. The programme ran from January 2005 until December 2008 and in all there were 21 pilot projects. The project segel-bs (abbreviation for Selbstreguliertes Lernen in Lernfeldern der Berufsschule) was associated with a curricular reform of vocational courses in learning fields and combined the development of learning situations in vocational education classes with the aid of self-directed learning. The innovative potential of this concept is composed of three conditions which are closely related (c.f. Krakau & Rickes, 2007, p. 7): • Abstractly formulated learning fields of academic curriculum have to be turned into concrete learning situations, which from the very first are aligned with the principle of self-directed learning. • Opportune organizational conditions for self-directed learning in the vocational school must be identified. • Accordant concepts for the development of competence of the teaching staff are to be developed.

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The project mosel (abbreviation for Modelle des selbst gesteuerten und kooperativen Lernens und die notwendigen Veränderungen in Bezug auf die Personal- und Organisationsentwicklung) aimed at developing the arrangements of teaching and learning in dual and full academic vocational education courses. The arrangements for teaching and learning were in accordance with the demands of self-directed learning. In addition, the necessary strategies for personal and organizational development were worked out and tested. In this project the question asked was to what extent the organizational conditions of school have an impact on self-directed learning. The researchers argued that there has to be a school-specific management approach to the implementation of self-directed learning (c.f. Klieber & Sloane, 2007, p. 2). In asking about the organizational conditions of such school-specific management, two conceptional approaches were distinguished: • the resource-oriented approach, which defines the course management as the negotiation of conditions, i.e. of specific material and personal resources; • the process-oriented approach, which in addition to the negotiation of conditions assumes that it is necessary to negotiate conceptional aspects of the curriculum delivery. Both approaches were applied in the model project evaluations carried out by Sloane, Dilger and Klieber of the University of Paderborn. The design of both studies enabled the results of each study to be related to each other. The quantitative evaluation of segel-bs was based on the resource-oriented approach. In the study, six schools of technical and vocational education and training were involved and the analysis was related to two courses, both from the commercial sector. The duration of this study was around 2 months at the mid-point of a 3-year model project. The study used a 72-item open response quantitative questionnaire distributed to teaching personnel. This meant that there were no restricting alternative answers, although the form of the questions may have influenced the scope of the answers. The questionnaire was distributed to the six schools in the model scheme and responses were collected from 30 persons. The results of the evaluation identified a multitude of different arrangements for vocational education courses that can be classified into four categories: • Material course-related activities: e.g. to provide self-learning materials, to set time frames for developing the teaching staff competencies and to assure the availability of work and learning spaces. • Personal course-related activities: e.g. further training on action-orientation and self-direction, and the development of competence in subject and methods. • Material lesson-related activities: e.g. abolition of the 45-min cycle, time frames for team teaching, and fixed rooms for the specialized courses. • Personal lesson-related activities: e.g. further training in the application of methods and in the role of moderator and counsellor. During the pilot project in the vocational school, it became clear that the resources-oriented approach to the management of vocational education is deficient.

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There is a necessity to include more factors. Hence another qualitative study in the project mosel concentrated on the experiences of the teaching staff. The second study aimed at a stimulation of self-reflective processes of the teaching personnel. They were encouraged to reflect their experiences of the implementation of selfdirected learning in the model scheme mosel. In the study there were three technical and vocational education and training schools and the analysis was related to seven courses from different sectors (commercial, medical, pedagogical). The duration of the study was 2 days (a workshop) towards the end of the project (also 3 years). The study was designed as a semi-open survey using semi-standardized qualitative interviews. Data was collected from 22 staff distributed across the three schools participating in the model scheme. The results of the study primarily show how far decisions impact on the course team and influence the achievement of a conjoint educational demand involving the aspects beyond material and personal resources. Questions included considering the understanding of self-directed learning, the associated learning-theoretical assumptions, the adjustment of conceptional work in the team, the necessities of the evaluation of the learning, and of securing the learning results. Hence we concluded that the implementation of self-directed learning requires a self-reflective process and therefore goes beyond the provision of resources. With its concentration on experience-reflection, the project demonstrated that this was a significant aspect of the above theory of learning (c.f. Göhlich & Zirfas, 2007, pp. 180 ff.). Both studies confirmed that the realization of self-directed learning in the vocational school involves not only changes at the curricular level, but also at the level of the organizational design of the course, on cooperation among teachers, on the strategic functions of the school, and of the organizational culture of the school in general. Above all, the second evaluation made clear that the management of implementation of self-directed learning cannot stop with the distribution of resources, but has to initiate a dialogue about conceptual questions between all involved. With its concentration on dialogue, the project demonstrated another significant aspect of the above pedagogical theory of learning. In this sense the implementation of a new form of learning is not only the implementation of a new methodic-didactic ensemble but requires a process of individual and organizational development (c.f. Klieber & Sloane, 2007, p. 18; Tiemeyer, 2007, p. 2). The results of the evaluations of these pilot projects show that designing a school and educational management for the learning pathways is necessary for the implementation of self-directed learning. This task of design should be connected with the task of teaching staff. It can be pictured as a process model and described by elements of educational management, amongst others: curricular analysis, development of learning situations and evaluation of the learning processes (Dilger & Sloane, n.d., p. 4). The basis for process-oriented educational course work is the four structural elements: the mission statement, the foundation of didactic models for the particular educational courses, the conception of evaluation and quality management and the negotiation of resources (c.f. Klieber & Sloane, 2007, p. 24). The evaluation of the pilot projects indicated that for conceptual work in schools, both the structural perspective and the process-oriented perspective were used.

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However, this happened only in an elementary and unsystematic manner. From the perspective of the researchers, organizational design and management of the processes in the schools was not overtly planned. The systematic combination of structural and process-oriented elements would be useful to give the educational management as well as the teaching staff an orientation for their activities and decisions within the implementation of self-directed learning.

Implementation of Self-Directed Learning with In-house Further Training The pilot project Selbstständig lernen im Betrieb (‘autonomous learning in the enterprise’) had a duration from 1999 to 2002, and was financed by the Federal Ministry of Education and Research, technically steered by the Federal Institute for Vocational Education and Training and scientifically steered by the Institute for Socio-Scientific Counselling. The project considered the question of how the principle of self-directed learning can be realized in the enterprise, given the necessity of value creation and given also in-house work organization conditions that have to be generated so that new forms of learning can be established and made sustainable. The pilot project supported groups in different in-house autonomous learning activities in cooperation with a sample of small- and medium-sized enterprises. The project involved the development and testing of procedures of self-management and self-evaluation of further education (c.f. Geldermann, Krauss, & Mohr, 2001, p. 39). Two elements in the evaluation of self-directed learning suggested by Severing (2004, p. 117) were included in the design of the study as outlined below. First, a significant evaluation of self-directed learning at the workplace cannot be carried out only ex post, but should occur as a process-related evaluation. Because continuous attendance by researchers during the learning process is not practicable under inhouse conditions, the question arises as to what offers of support to the learners will convince them to take over the task of data collection. Therefore, the aim was to encourage periodic self-reflection and to integrate this with the learning. The second question arose as to whether and how far enterprises which encourage the autonomous learning of their employees also change themselves, that is to say if the self-reflective learning by individuals goes beyond this level and affects groups, departments or the whole organization. This spotlights the relationship between selfdirected learning of persons and organizational learning, which can be defined as changes in the knowledge and the ability of the collective bodies, and thereby above all as pattern-mimetic process (c.f. Göhlich, 2007, pp. 222 ff.). Within the timeframe of the pilot project and with limited resources, no impact analysis could be carried out. Methodologically, the review of the theses of the pilot project was confined to participating observations of the group work and to qualitative interviews of the employees, supervisors and personnel managers. The qualitative interviews were carried out at the beginning of the model scheme within the first 6 months to analyse the atmosphere of learning existing in the enterprises and teams. The main part of the evaluation was concentrated on participating

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observations of the learning groups. The evaluation study included the analysis of 10 enterprises and two administrations. In all, around 140 persons from the participating institutions were observed. The appraisal was carried out in five industry sectors, namely metal processing, polymer processing, wood processing, engineering and information technology. The observation was carried out by two researchers within two 6-month timeframes in the middle and at the end of the project. The autonomous learning in the enterprise was related to four components which could be influenced by the learners, namely learning targets, operations and strategies of converting the information, target-oriented controlling processes and the openness and malleability of the learning environment. In the learning scenario there were phases of project learning which were enriched with elements of action learning. The source for learning and the development of the competence to learn on one’s own were in-house change processes which required new competences of the employees and new attitudes towards their tasks. Supported by trainers, the learners dealt with in-house tasks. In workshops held periodically, experiences and difficulties with learning and strategies for incorporating learning with the in-house daily routine were discussed and the steps of learning and development were reflected upon (c.f. Geldermann & Mohr, 2004, p. 87). A significant result was the finding that even under conditions of a pilot project, forms of autonomous learning cannot be implemented offhand as self-supporting elements in the enterprise. With the support of self-directed learning, the enterprise transfers a bigger part of the responsibility for qualification to the employees and implies the expectation that they can take care actively and self-responsibly for the preservation and extension of their competences. Therefore, conflicting demands of time and resources for working and learning and the problem of a working environment being not conducive for learning is not yet resolved. In view of the necessities in the enterprises to rationalize the expenditure of time and money, choices have to be made between working and learning. However, this choice now does not come up in relation to conflicts between an enterprise and an educational institution, and nor does it require choices between an operating division and a training division, but becomes a necessary decision of the employee about the use of time and other resources (c.f. Severing, 2004, p. 109). To decrease the danger of continuously subordinating learning to work, and to make knowledge acquisition transparent for the learners, infrastructures for selfdirected learning were developed during the pilot project. With the ‘navigation system for autonomously learning employees’, an instrument was developed which could make knowledge acquisition transparent for the employees in the context of concrete problems and tasks. The navigation system offers structured help for the introduction and anchoring of self-directed learning in the enterprise. The elements of the autonomous learning process are merged in six modules, each with an initiating workshop and a decentralized continuing learning phase (c.f. Krauß & Mohr, 2004, p. 111): • to calculate the learning demand: analysis of workplace, group, product; • to communicate the learning demand: to be on speaking terms;

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to use the working environment as learning field: to detect learning chances; to open up in-house know-how: to use sources of knowledge; to evaluate learning offers: to use inputs; to judge the learning development: balancing of own learning processes,

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Based on an analysis of their own working environment, knowledge deficits and learning needs were identified in the group (to be on speaking terms), as well as the possibilities of using their own working environment as a learning environment to detect learning chances and to use sources of knowledge and inputs. Finally the achieved learning development was assessed (c.f. Geldermann, 2001, p. 39). The views of employees and managers identified different issues in the pilot project (c.f. Severing, 2004, p. 109): The participating employees first had to attune to their new role as initiators of their own learning. Their initial passive attitude and scepticism about reflecting on one’s own learning processes had to be surmounted. When this was achieved, their motivation led to a tendency to overestimate their own capabilities, and excessive demands were common among learners. The trainer had to support attentively and make the participants’ progress and the methods of learning transparent to them. First, the responsible managers’ fears of loss of direction and control had to be allayed. Against expectations, the organization was continuously involved in the learning of the employees through the supply of support, without which the autonomous learning was not assured beyond the pilot phase. Second, for this group, popular misunderstandings had to be cleared away. There was a view that selfdirected learning at the workplace would automatically be the consequence of work and that the availability of an elaborated knowledge management would be identical with the knowledge acquisition of employees. The results of the pilot project confirmed the thesis that for implementing selfdirected learning, a pedagogical support is not superfluous, and that the organization can not opt out of the responsibility for the learning of its employees if learning is to lead to success and not to frustration for the participants. Certainly the roles and functions of all participants change. Learners have to become more active and self-reflective to detect and meet their individual needs. Educational staff cease to exercise instructing authority and assume a counselling role. This requires supportive educational management and quality assurance which was formerly handled by the in-house management. One can speak of an increasing methodization of the role of the educational staff (c.f. Severing, 2004, p. 110). Organizations which seek to implement self-directed learning also have the responsibility to support such learning. Self-directed learning needs an infrastructure and, last but not least, the organization needs to develop a culture and a self-concept as a learning organization.

Staff Interviews as Spaces of Situated Learning The third study questioned the way in which, and to what extent, yearly staff interviews in enterprises are to be seen as pedagogical practice. In fact, the staff

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interviews in our analysis proved to include self-directed learning situations that were beyond pedagogic professionalism, with the responsibility totally of the participating managers and employees. The empirical basis is an analysis of 25 observed and taped staff interviews in an enterprise and in a non-profit (religious charity) organization that were about the same size. The data was collected at the Institute of Education at the University of Erlangen by Ines Sausele under the mentoring of Michael Göhlich (c.f. Göhlich & Sausele, 2008). Although the particular type of communication in the staff interview is not descended from a continuing education tradition, it can be traced back on one hand to aptitude testing, and on the other hand to complaint-allowing counselling in the tradition of the human relations approach. However, staff interviews go far beyond both these traditions. On closer inspection they become spaces of situated learning, and provide room for reflection and figuration of personal and organizational learning needs and processes. First and foremost the staff interview turns out to open a learning space. The staff interviews in the non-profit church organization and in the enterprise have in common that they refer to learning support structures and learning support measures which already exist in the respective organization. The supervisors in the staff interviews point to possibilities of particular Fortbildung (further education), Seminar (seminar) or Schulung (training course). This is not surprising because the personaldevelopmental tradition includes offering further education opportunities to staff. But we also frequently found references to informal learning support structures embedded in the in-house practice. These include dual and mostly vertical support such as Supervision (supervision), Mentoring (mentoring), Coaching (coaching) or Beratung (consulting) by line managers, as well as horizontal team-oriented support such as Abteilungsbesprechung (departmental meeting), Bereichsrunde (sector round), Küchenleiterrunde (meeting of chefs de cuisine) and Projektbesprechung (project discussion). The staff interview functions as a pedagogic-managerial turning platform during which junctions for learning possibilities within the organization are identified. The following quotations are – if not differently marked – part of the analysed staff interviews: F = Führungskraft, i.e. line manager, M = Mitarbeiter, i.e. employee F: M: F: M: F: M:

We will handle it through me, through coaching. Okay. Because where things get really interesting I will help you, I’ll be sufficiently fit. Of course. Then, we build up the knowledge you need, the way you really need it – I think a seminar will be of little benefit at that point. I have to admit that the knowledge is lost so fast. Excel, for example: we need it so little right now, thus what we know we forget immediately after we learn it (. . .) because, as you say, taking a course would be a flash in the pan, it would last a couple of weeks, and then. . .

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First of all, in a course you learn so much that you do not really need. That’s true. And in the worst case, what you do need you don’t actually learn. Therefore, you can come to me if there is anything and we can discuss the problem you have, this will certainly be the best way to learn. The same goes for the other software: if you have problems with it, come to me. Yes!

In this interview passage the shift from personal development and further education to the proximate of the work area of the line manager is recognized. On the other hand it shows that seminars (courses) as formal external-directed learning situations become a shared external enemy against which bosses and employees can ally themselves in favour of a kind of departmental competence. Seminars appear a flash in the pan, as not related to the problems of the work, and as overloaded in respect of content. For this situated learning the term ‘coaching’ is preferred because the line manager agrees to support situated professional learning by the employee. The line manager in this particular case also reflects on his own behaviour from that perspective. For instance, where he says – with regard to the competence of the employee to manage budget planning – that this has to be done by himself (‘this coaching is by me, I have to train you so you build up this knowledge’). Here the line manager assumes the task of supporting particular learning which is thought of as being individual and situated. At the same time there is criticism of ‘seminars’ (i.e. courses). From the perspective of pedagogical research of organizations it is relevant that the staff interviews make situated learning possible not only on the individual level but beyond. We can also recognize moments in which individual learning and organizational learning are situationally connected. In another of the analyzed staff interviews, the manager asked about the individual’s needs for further education and personal development and the general conditions necessary for this to occur (‘capacity for you’) as well as for the demand and possibility for organizational learning (‘free space for innovation meetings’). Besides the personnel development tradition of the staff interview, its suitability for organization-pedagogic processes appears as a second option. In fact it appears at first glance as if the employee grasps this option and seeks to use it. So he explicitly speaks of the softening of old structures and gives a concrete example. However, he does so in the form of a complaint (‘there I always have to’) and brings the interview near the counselling tradition of uttering and listening to complaints. The manager neither takes this option nor slips into the aptitude-testing option but insists on asking for possibilities of organizational development (‘separation of projects . . . advantageous or obstructive’). Thereupon the employee responds (‘would be an advantage’) but then (with the remark of ‘demand of training’) he leads the interview back into the fairway of pure personnel development. So the potential of this staff interview for situated organizational learning is evident but in this case not realized. The involved persons want the competence connecting further education and organizational developmental thoughts sustainably.

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The connections between individual and organizational learning which are found in the analyzed staff interviews are mostly responses to problems and necessities but in a few cases also involve proactive use of learning opportunities, although this rarely occurs alone but is mostly woven into the reaction to a perceived problem. This can be shown in one of the analyzed staff interviews in which a manager talks to an employee in a (group-) leading position. This interview starts with an aptitude or competence diagnostic (referring to the in-house guidelines, the manager broaches the issue of the employee’s ability ‘to recognize and to consider interrelations beyond his own work field’), it gains momentum with the employee’s utterance of burdens (he laments it as ‘currently extreme’ – ‘how he dangles on the phone’) and their identification that this is an inter-divisional problem for the manager (‘this all in all is the problem’, ‘that is the problem’, ‘to get people to think as a group’). Although the manager immediately suggests a solution to his problem as if it were only a rhetorical one (‘one should manifest the group’s business processes as knowledge’ and ‘exemplify them through one’s own life as line manager’), the employee suggests to the manager that there is a need for procedure manuals and this leads to a dialogue between the employee and line manager. Consequently the line manager discovers something that is new information for him (that the employee is continuously asked for information and problem solving by colleagues from other divisions and groups of the enterprise), whereupon he reconsiders the preconditions named by the employee (compilation of manuals) but states them as not doable and instead judges the ad-hoc solution of the employee as good (‘to solve it by supporting the people actively when they call’). Hereupon the employee explains that he has already begun to create a manual (albeit for another issue) and suggests the possibility of extending this process to other issues. This finally leads the line manager to ask to see the draft (‘Let’s see’). In this staff interview it becomes clear that both the individual and organizational learning evident are mostly a response to a problem which, in the above-quoted case, was generated by the fusion of three enterprises (A, B and C). It is a problem created by different organizational cultures. The members of the organization still think and act as if they were moving in the structures and borders of their three former enterprises (A, B and C). The borders and structures of the organization have changed but the images of the members of the organization (c.f. Argyris & Schoen, 1978, pp. 16 f.) and the performative patterns of the organizational practice (c.f. Göhlich, 2007, pp. 226 f.) have not changed. Inner images and performative (embodied) patterns are inert and can be changed only by conjoint critical reflection, creative mimesis and exercise. In this circumstance it appears doubtful that situated learning suffices. On the other hand the drafted interview shows that the frame of a staff interview definitely gives leeway at least to start such conjoint critical reflection and creative mimesis. The interview develops, from the instructive mode (‘The only possibility’, ‘this is’, ‘this has to’, ‘it has to’) to the form of a constructive discussion (F: ‘Is it useful for them?’ M: ‘No, it is not about doing it, but about taking decisions’) and finally to the form of a dialogue in which it is not a matter of pro and contra but of realization (F: ‘Really?’ M: ‘Yes.’. F: ‘I had not realized that until now.

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Then they call you directly?’ M: ‘Of course!’). Both interview partners contribute to the development of the interview, although the right to open (‘this is the problem’) and to close (‘OK’) the issue remains with the line manager. An important contribution of the employee is that he distinguishes very precisely between ‘Making’ and ‘Deciding’ and so exactly marks the actual weak point of the organization. The important contribution of the line manager is that he does not repel the problem or attribute it to single employees but explains his lack of knowledge of the problem and looks into it as a phenomenological question. Finally, it is also important that the answer of the employee describes precisely what and how the problem has been coped with up to now through informal relations of two members of the organization, but not generally binding and bound neither by organizational statutes (c.f. Weber, 1964) nor in form of a performative practice of organizational culture (c.f. Schein, 1996). This becomes self-evident to both members. The staff interview can be seen as a space which opens possibilities of situated learning for the individual as well as at the organizational level, even though the securing of conjoint critical reflection and of creative solutions that are particular to learning situations need to be arranged and developed, when indicated, ‘formally’ as well.

Summary and Prospect Although innovative forms of learning in vocational education and training in Germany up to now have been more focused on programmes rather than on situated practice, self-directed learning is increasingly found at many workplaces (c.f. Dilger & Sloane, 2007, p. 2; Geldermann et al., 2006, p. 6; Euler & Paetzold, 2004, p. 3). Research is needed to address the following questions: how can self-directed and situated learning be implemented for vocational education under the conditions of in-house work organization and of compacted and complex work; how can a limitation in the range of self-directed learning for groups of employees be avoided and where boundaries of situated and self-directed learning loom which are to be treated by formalization? From the three case studies on self-directed and situated learning presented, four results are emphasized: • In the pilot projects and studies, the relevance of experience-relatedness and dialogicity was confirmed. To increase the reliance on situated and self-directed learning it is necessary to encourage and support self-reflective processing of experiences and dialogue among those involved. • To conduct self-directed learning in an enterprise, one first needs the active commitment of individuals. Next, there is a need for appropriate didactic resources, which can be used by individual learners. However, these aspects are still not sufficient. Third and most importantly, self-directed learning needs the embedding in a broader context of organizational development. Evidence for this is found in

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the approach of ‘structural perspective’ and ‘process-oriented perspective’ as outlined in the case studies with vocational schools. It is also supported by the more or less successful function of the yearly staff interview as a pedagogic-managerial turning platform. The concept of the ‘navigation system’ was important as it is helping participants and managers in the enterprise to value and to support self-directed learning. • As a consequence of the embedding of self-directed learning in structures and cultures in various learning places and in diverse learning phases (including initial vocational education and further training) new research needs to arise. Self-directed learning requires both teachers and learners to undertake fundamentally new roles. Related to organizations – in view of the implementation and continuance of self-directed learning – we have to talk about a necessary change of culture. Self-directed learning needs collective ‘patterns of practice’ of learning and learning support which the organization performs in its practice (c.f. Göhlich, 2001, p. 208 ff.). These are then each mimetically picked up and, if need be, creatively nuanced by the employee. Within this developmental process, manifold starting points for pedagogical research and consulting of organizations ensue (c.f. Göhlich, 2005, p. 9). Research results on organizational learning prove that enterprises recognize such learning activities either not at all, or not intensively enough, and for this reason do not realize the developmental potential. This need has also been identified by research activities in the function and perception of the staff interview in the enterprise (Göhlich & Sausele, 2008). • Finally, the research and development of elaborated concepts of self-directed and situated learning should not look only at the in-house clientele who are already conducting knowledge-based operations and thereby acting in a remarkably self-directed manner. Until recently, concepts and strategies of implementation concentrated on in-house personnel. The realization of the concept of selfdirected learning turns out to be very different sectorally and professionally. The huge area of knowledge-based skilled work in the enterprise as well as the importance of assets of ability, of learning to do and of learning to live in the enterprise were almost completely invisible until recently (Geldermann et al., 2006, p. 5).

References Argyris, C. & Schoen, D. (1978). Organisational learning: A theory of action perspective. Reading, MA: Addison Wesley. Arnold, R., Gomez Tutor, C., & Kammerer, J. (2002). Selbst gesteuertes Lernen als Perspektive der beruflichen Bildung, [BWP] Berufsbildung in Wissenschaft und Praxis, 04/2002, pp. 32–36. Bjoernavold, J. (2000). Making learning visible. Identification, assessment and recognition of nonformal learning in Europe. Thessaloniki: Cedefop. Brown, J. S., Collins, A., & Duguid, P. (1989). Situated cognition and the culture of learning. Educational Researcher, 18(1), 32–42. Chaiklin, S., Lave, J., & Pea, R. (Eds.). (1996). Understanding practice. Perspectives on activity and context. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Clancey, W. (1997). Situated cognition: On human knowledge and computer representations. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Dilger, B., & Sloane, P. F. E. (2007). Das Wesentliche bleibt dem Auge verborgen, oder? Möglichkeiten zur Beobachtung und Beschreibung selbst regulierten Lernens, [bwp@] Berufsund Wirtschaftspädagogik online: Selbstorganisiertes Lernen in der beruflichen Bildung, No. 13, December 2007, pp. 1–27. Dilger, B., & Sloane, P. F. E. (n.d.) Bildungsgangarbeit und didaktische Jahresplanung zur Förderung des selbst regulierten Lernens in Lernfeldern. Modellversuch segel-bs, Modellversuchsinformationen, No. 3, online (26.08.2009): http://www.berufsbildung.nrw.de/ angebote/segel-bs/download/modellversuchsinformation_heft3.pdf Dohmen, G. (1998). Das, selbstgesteuerte Lernen’ und die Notwendigkeit seiner Förderung, Beiheft zum Report 1998 – Dokumentation der Jahrestagung der Kommission Erwachsenenbildung der DGfE 1998, pp. 64–69. Erpenbeck, J. (1997). Selbstgesteuertes, selbstorganisiertes Lernen. In Arbeitsgemeinschaft Qualifikations-Entwicklungs-Management Berlin (Ed.), Kompetenzentwicklung ‘97 (pp. 309– 316). Berlin, Waxmann. Euler, D., & Dehnbostel, P. (1998). Berufliches Lernen als Forschungsgegenstand. In D. Euler (Ed.), Berufliches Lernen im Wandel – Konsequenzen für die Lernorte. Beiträge zur Arbeitsmarkt- und Berufsforschung (pp. 489–499) BeitrAB 124. Nürnberg: IAB. Euler, D., & Paetzold, G. (2004). Selbst gesteuertes und kooperatives Lernen in der beruflichen Erstausbildung (SKOLA). Expertise zum Modellversuchsprogramm. In [BLK] BundLänder-Kommission für Bildungsplanung und Forschungsförderung (Ed.) Materialien zur Bildungsplanung und Forschungsförderung, No. 120. St. Gallen, Dortmund. European Commission. (2000). A memorandum on lifelong learning. Brussels: Author. European Commission. (2008a). The European qualifications framework for lifelong learning. Luxembourg: EC. European Commission. (2008b). Recommendation of the European Parliament and of the Council on the Establishment of the European Credit System for Vocational Education and Training (ECVET). Brussels: Author. Geldermann, B., Severing, E., & Stahl, T. (2006). Perspektiven des selbstgesteuerten Lernens in der betrieblichen Bildung, [ZBW] Zeitschrift für Berufs- und Wirtschaftspädagogik, Beiheft 20: Selbstgesteuertes Lernen in der beruflichen Bildung. Stuttgart, pp. 109–120. Geldermann, B., Krauss, A., & Mohr, B. (2001). Selbstständig lernen im Betrieb. Reflexion als zentrales Element der Selbstlernkompetenz, [BWP] Berufsbildung in Wissenschaft und Praxis, No. 2, pp. 38–41. Geldermann, B., & Mohr, B. (2004). Unterstützung von Mitarbeitern beim Erwerb von Selbstlernkompetenz. In H. Holz, H. Novak, D. Schemme, & T. Stahl (Eds.), Sebstevaluation in der Berufsbildung (pp. 76–108). Bielefeld, Bertelsmann. Gerstenmaier, J., & Mandl, H. (2001). Methodologie und Empirie zum Situierten Lernen. Forschungsbericht Nr. 137, München, Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität, Institut für Empirische Pädagogik und Pädagogische Psychologie. Göhlich, M. (2001). System, Handeln, Lernen unterstützen. Weinheim: Eine Theorie der Praxis pädagogischer Institutionen. Göhlich, M. (2005). Pädagogische Organisationsforschung. Eine Einführung. In M. Göhlich, C. Hopf , & I. Sausele (Eds.), Pädagogische Organisationsforschung (pp. 9–24) Wiesbaden, VS Verlag. Göhlich, M. (2007). Organisationales Lernen. In M. Göhlich, C. Wulf, & J. Zirfas (Eds.), Pädagogische Theorien des Lernens (pp. 222–232). Weinheim, Beltz. Göhlich, M., & Sausele, I. (2008). Lernbezogene Organisation. Das Mitarbeitergespräch als Link zwischen Personal- und Organisationsentwicklung, Zeitschrift für Pädagogik, No. 5, pp. 679–690. Göhlich, M., & Zirfas, J. (2007). Lernen. Ein pädagogischer Grundbegriff. Stuttgart, Kohlhammer. Henninger, M., & Mandl, H. (2000). Vom Wissen zum Handeln – ein Ansatz zur Förderung kommunikativen Handelns. In H. Mandl & J. Gerstenmaier (Eds.), Die Kluft zwischen Wissen und Handeln (pp. 197–219). Goettingen, Hogrefe.

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Klieber, F., & Sloane, P. F. E. (2007). Selbst organisiertes Lernen – Herausforderungen für die organisatorische Gestaltung beruflicher Schulen, [bwp@] Berufs- und Wirtschaftspädagogik online, No. 13, December 2007, pp. 1–27. Knowles, M. (1975). Self-directed learning. A Guide for learners and teachers. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Cambridge Adult Education. Krakau, U., & Rickes, M. (2007). Förderung selbst regulierten Lernens in Fachklassen des dualen Systems – Rahmenbedingungen, Umsetzung, Evaluation, [bwp@] Berufs- und Wirtschaftspädagogik online, No. 13, December 2007, pp. 1–16. Krauß, A., & Mohr, B. (2004). Das Navigationssystem für selbstständig lernende Mitarbeiter. Struktur und Inhalt. In H. Holz, H. Novak, D. Schemme, & T. Stahl (Eds.), Sebstevaluation in der Berufsbildung (pp. 109–128). Bielefeld, Bertelsmann. Lave, J. (1988). Cognition in practice: Mind mathematics and culture in everyday life. Cambridge. Cambridge University Press. Lave, J., & Wenger, E. (1991). Situated learning: Legitimate peripheral participation. Cambridge. Cambridge University Press. Law, L. C. (1998). Bridging the gap between knowledge and action: A situated cognition view. Forschungsbericht Nr. 92, München, Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität, Institut für empirische Pädagogik und Pädagogische Psychologie. Rauner, F. (2004). Mehr Lehrlinge! Die Zeit, Rubrik Bildung, 22.12.2004, online (28.11.2008): < www.zeit.de/2004/53/C-Berufsbildung?page=all> Rauner, F. (2008). Erste Ideen für einen Aufsatz, Situiertes Lernen und berufliche Kompetenzentwicklung’, online (28.11.2008): http://www.itb.uni-bremen.de/modules.php? op=modload&name=Downloads&file=index&req=getit&lid=39. Scardamalia, M., & Breiter, C. (1999). Schools as knowledge-building organizations. In D. Keating & C. Hertzman (Eds.), Today’s children, tomorrow’s society. The developmental health and wealth of nations (pp. 274–289) New York: Guilford. Schein, E. H. (1996). Culture. The missing concept in organization studies. Administrative Science Quarterly, 41(2), 229–240. Severing, E. (2004). Selbstständiges Lernen in der betrieblichen Bildung – Beiträge aus Modellversuchen. In P. Dehnbostel (Ed.), Innovationen und Tendenzen in der betrieblichen Berufsbildung (pp. 107–116). Beiheft 18, Stuttgart: [ZBW] Zeitschrift für Berufs- und Wirtschaftspädagogik. Tiemeyer, E. (2007). Implementation von selbst reguliertem Lernen in beruflichen Schulen – Rahmenbedingungen, Konzepte, Projekterfahrungen und Erfolgsfaktoren für die schulische Organisationsentwicklung, [bwp@] Berufs- und Wirtschaftspädagogik online, No. 13, December 2007, pp. 1–15. Voß, G., & Pongratz, H. J. (1998). Der Arbeitskraftunternehmer. Eine neue Grundform der Ware Arbeitskraft. Kölner Zeitschrift für Soziologie und Sozialpsychologie, 50, 131–158. Weber, M. (1964). Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft. Köln: Grundriss der verstehenden Soziologie. Winkler, K., Reinmann-Rothmeier, G., & Mandl, H. (2000). Learning Comunities und Wissensmanagement. Forschungsbericht Nr. 126, München, Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität, Institut für Empirische Pädagogik und Pädagogische Psychologie. Wulf, C. (2007). Mimetisches Lernen. In M. Göhlich, C. Wulf, & J. Zirfaß (Eds.), Pädagogische Theorien des Lernens (pp. 91–101). Weinheim and Basel: Beltz Verlag.

Chapter 10

Good Practice Models for Using TVET to Address Skill Shortages: A Case Study from Health Sue Kilpatrick, Susan Johns, Patricia Millar, Georgina Routley and Quynh Lê

Introduction This chapter focuses on learning as the contextualized application of knowledge, exploring how the effectiveness of TVET is related to consideration of workplace, community, industry and learner cohort characteristics in the context of skill shortages in health. TVET-qualified workers in the health industry include enrolled nurses, nursing assistants, personal care assistants, allied health assistants and Aboriginal health workers. Aged care workers are included because qualifications and training in this area appear to be increasingly forming a training and career pathway for health workers. The selected occupations are linked to TVET qualifications which form part of the Australian Qualifications Framework, with a focus on Certificates II to IV and Diploma-level training (Australian Qualifications Framework, 2007). The majority of occupations on the Australian National Skill Shortage List are in health (The Australian Workplace, 2007). TVET-qualified workers make up 35 per cent of the Australian health workforce and are almost as numerous as professionals, who make up 38 per cent of the workforce (ABS, 2006). There has been an adjustment of the mix of occupations in nursing, the largest occupational group in the health workforce, towards lower-paid occupations (Australian Institute of Health and Welfare, 2003). Personal care assistants and nursing assistants – occupations that are lower paid than TVET-qualified enrolled nurses – have increased in number, apparently taking over some of the less-skilled tasks of registered or enrolled nurses. Personal care workers comprise the bulk of the workforce in the aged care sector (Productivity Commission, 2005). Although there is a shortage of allied health professionals, statistics show that the number of TVET-qualified allied health assistants has almost doubled (Australian Institute of Health and Welfare, 2003). A shortage of Aboriginal health workers has also

S. Kilpatrick (B) Deakin University, Warrnambool, VIC, Australia e-mail: [email protected]

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been identified (Australian Medical Association, 2004; Smith, O’Dea, McDermott, Schmidt, & Connors, 2006). The shortage of health professionals nationally has resulted in pressures for TVET workers to perform some of the tasks traditionally undertaken by professionals, with appropriate training and supervision. Vacancy levels for professionals and TVET-qualified workers in the health and community services industry have increased over the last 5 years, with enrolled nurse shortages particularly evident in the aged care sector (ABS, 2005). An ageing workforce, poor rates of pay and conditions and highly specialized skill needs contribute to current and projected workforce shortages (Australian Institute of Health and Welfare, 2003; Meagher & Healy, 2006). The rural and remote context is particularly hard hit by skill shortages. Findings from the Productivity Commission (2005) report that health workers and health professionals who are recruited from rural and remote areas, and/or who undertake training in these areas, are more likely to remain in, or return to rural and remote areas for work. Anecdotal evidence suggests that TVET health workers, in particular, tend to stay in rural and remote areas whereas health professionals tend to be more mobile. This means that TVET workers are a constant in many rural and remote health services, providing contextual information to new health professionals and acting as custodians of the local culture. This emphasizes the need for the health sector to ensure TVET health workers are adequately trained and supported to cope with their role in providing continuity of care at the local level.

Addressing Skill Shortages Through Training The problem of health skill shortages requires a multifaceted approach from government and industry, according to the Productivity Commission (2005) report on Australia’s Health Workforce. Expansion through strategies such as innovative training models, of the numbers and roles of ‘auxiliaries’, promise a solution to health skill shortages internationally (Hongoro & McPake, 2004). In Australia, it is important that the TVET sector is involved in this process (Duckett, 2005). A career path is important for recruitment as well as retention of workers; employment decisions are based not only on current wage, but also on future job prospects (Richardson, 2007). Changes within the Australian health and community services sector address the need for clearer qualification pathways (Community Services and Health Industry Skills Council, 2005). The changes were informed by the Skills Escalator approach in the United Kingdom (Department of Health, 2005), which uses a strategy of lifelong learning to facilitate staff to renew and extend their skills, and to move up the escalator, by offering a range of training entry and exit points. There are some constraints identified in Australia in using TVET to address skill shortages in health. The Productivity Commission (2005) concluded that the education and training system is complex and insufficiently responsive to changing needs

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and circumstances. Further, systemic factors, such as rigid regulatory frameworks and management practices and entrenched workforce behaviours, prevent the skills of a number of health workers from being adequately recognized and utilized. The availability of quality work placements is a key part of training for health workers (see, for example, Department of Health and Ageing, 2005), and for vocationally trained workers (see, for example, Country Education Project, 2001). However, the shortage of health professionals within Australia cited earlier suggests that there is limited time and opportunity for clinical supervision of health professional students, and for supervision of TVET health workers. This will have a cascading effect on the ability and willingness of health facilities to take students for TVET placements, and on the ability of the sector to address skill shortages.

Models that Address Skill Shortages in Health Clearly there is a need for innovative service delivery and training models to help reduce health skill shortages. These same issues are being addressed internationally, for example, in the UK (Department of Health, 2005) and USA (Chapman, Showstack, Morrison, Franks, Woo, & O’Neil, 2004). Such models are likely to focus on creative recruitment and outreach strategies for potential employees, development of training and accreditation for new industry areas, and increasing employee retention and job satisfaction through appropriate professional development and other support services (Chapman et al., 2004). Our focus in this case study is on models that include a training component that is within the scope of TVET. Two broad categories of models with a TVET component can be identified in response to health skill shortages: those which focus on upskilling current employees to create a career path, and those which focus on training programmes for new entrants to the health workforce. Bridging programmes for new and current employees are a sub-theme of these models. Most models contain non-training elements such as flexible workplace arrangements, remedial education, career counselling, supportive employers, financial assistance, appropriate funding structures and a career ladder. For example, the Community College of Denver has developed a programme to address nursing shortages (Goldberger, 2005). This programme allows entry-level staff to advance from the lowest development skill level to college-level courses in half the time required in traditional development education, and creates opportunities for a career ladder. Overarching themes that emerge from the literature on responses to skills shortages are use of a partnership approach to address skill shortages, and targeting disadvantaged groups for training and employment. Within Australia, the partnership approach is being promoted at a national level through the National Skill Ecosystem Project (Australian National Training Authority, 2005). Skill ecosystem projects work through a complex partnership of key stakeholders, including industry, industry organizations, TVET partners, unions and government agencies. Enhancing the quality and sustainability of the skill ecosystem is believed to

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increase opportunities for development and use of skills, innovation and growth. Partnership approaches where health providers work with communities are noted as particularly relevant in rural and remote communities, where access to resources is limited (Community Services and Health Industry Skills Council, 2005). Rural and remote areas in particular have become home to a set of innovative service delivery models, such as multiskilling therapy assistants to work across several areas (Goodale & Lin, 2005), as well as a range of community-based solutions (Cunliffe, 2004). There is a focus in Australia on addressing unemployment and underemployment issues amongst disadvantaged groups of potential employees, such as the disabled, those over 45 years of age and those from culturally and linguistically diverse backgrounds, by targeting them for training or retraining to fill skill shortages in the health and community services sector (ABS, 2000). Aboriginal workers are another group being targeted for training and retraining. Recommendations for facilitating the participation of disadvantaged groups in the health workforce include more appealing industry marketing, encouraging employers to actively recruit employees from these target groups, ensuring adequate funding is available to support training for these groups including bridging programmes and focusing on males in the over 45 years age group (ABS, 2000; Department of Education, Science and Training, 2001).

Context The Australian TVET system allows for consideration of context as it encourages customization of training to suit individual workplaces and trainees. However, it is acknowledged that the flexibilities of the Australian system have not always been effectively communicated to clients and providers (Australian National Training Authority, 2003). Research on partnerships around training has identified that such social partnerships are highly contextualized (Billett, Clemans, & Seddon, 2004; CRLRA, 2002). Further, this research suggests that partnerships that include opportunities and structures for interaction which facilitate two-way information flows, networking and collaboration and where industry is a proactive partner, are more likely to deliver positive results (Billett et al., 2004; Kearns, Bowman & Garlick, 2008). A possible reason for the success of these partnerships is that the partners are able to communicate, and then take account of, the multiple contexts of trainees, workplaces, communities and skill needs. There are some suggestions in the literature that attention to existing and potential workforce, industry and community contexts is important for models to be successful in addressing skill shortages. In relation to the potential workforce for example, models that target Aboriginal workers in remote communities, where formal education levels are very low, include bridging programmes to help potential students reach the minimum academic skill level for entry into the certification courses (Pashen, Felton-Busch, Blackman, & Solomon, 2005). Cultural

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appropriateness of the training is also crucial to student success. The Goodwill Industries: Competency Evaluated Nurses Assistant Programme (United States Department of Labor, 2005) is both a bridging model and a training programme for new entrants to the health workforce. It targets youth with disabilities or special needs for entry into the health care industry, and includes a range of supports to ensure a successful transition to the workforce. Attention to workplace culture and conditions, as well as investing in leadership skills is the focus of a strategy designed to improve nurse retention in the United States (Hassmiller & Cozine, 2005). However, like much of the literature located on models to address skill shortages, the authors do not present an evaluation of their strategy. Attention to community needs means the skills developed match the shortage. In an example from a remote Aboriginal community, Aboriginal health workers were trained in basic preventative oral health to meet a specific community health need (Pacza, Steele & Tennant, 2001). A holistic strategy to address skill shortages in the aged care industry in Queensland, Australia, included the development of a flexible Diploma of Endorsed Enrolled Nursing and negotiation of extended scope of practice for endorsed enrolled nurses. It also trialled extended scope of practice for allied health assistants and addressed bottlenecks in the supply chain of skilled workers by, for example, creating better pathways between the TVET and higher education sectors. A number of key learnings that relate to context were identified, including change to job roles cannot be undertaken outside of the broader organizational environment, training must include supervisors and others working alongside those in new roles and the need to consider funding sources, regional labour shortages and industrial issues, as well as training when designing a model to address a skill shortage (Queensland Community Services and Health Industries Training Council, 2006). The Queensland strategy is an example of a skill ecosystem, which is founded on a regional context, and works by engaging the firms, labour supply, unions and education and training institutions in the region to craft a solution to skill shortages that fits the context of that region (Hall & Landsbury, 2006).

Lessons from Australian Models This chapter draws on findings from a research project funded by the National Vocational Education and Training Research and Evaluation Programme to locate, analyse and make accessible to policymakers and practitioners, innovative models of health training and service delivery (Kilpatrick, Le, Johns, Millar, & Routley, 2007). The models that have been developed in response to a shortage of skill concentrate largely on TVET trained workers in the health sector of the Health and Community Services industries. A project reference group of industry and education stakeholders nominated innovative models that addressed skills shortages and advised on the validity of

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outcomes of the research. Innovative models were defined as new services or products, including radical (completely new service or product), product differentiated (existing service amended into a different product) and market-differentiated models (existing service offered to a new group of clients) (Department of Health, 2005). Over 70 service delivery models and training solutions were identified from nominations and within the Australian and international literature. Fifty were selected for write-up as mini case studies and six as full case studies. Selection criteria included sustainability, evaluation, ease of transferability, flexible delivery, pathways to/from other training and Training Package alignment. The majority of models were from rural and remote contexts, where skill shortage and the need for innovative partnerships were the greatest. Key personnel were interviewed by phone and explained the process through which models were established and implemented. Permission to name organizations was obtained. More detail can be found in Kilpatrick et al. (2007). Three categories of models were identified according to the mix of activities involved: training only, job and/or workforce redesign and training and holistic, such as the previously mentioned Queensland aged-care skill ecosystem. The most common type of model was training only, followed by job and/or workforce redesign and training. Only about 10 per cent of models are categorized as holistic. Holistic models were overarching and medium to long term in nature, targeted largely at addressing projected skill shortages in a sustainable manner, with either a regional or statewide focus. Regardless of which of the three categories they represented, analysis revealed seven characteristics of innovative models: collaboration in development; industry involvement; cultural appropriateness; flexible delivery of training; pathways to and from other training; training component complemented by a focus on retention of workers and models targeted at existing employees or at specific group(s) who may not otherwise have considered a career in health. Effective models include these characteristics in such a way as to take account of the context for which they have been developed. Further, despite a need to consider the context for which the model is developed, effective models can be adapted to other contexts. That is, they are transferable. Contextual features considered in effective models include the area of skill shortage, workforce issues (availability of potential workers, number of existing unskilled or low-level skill workers), workplace characteristics including industrial relations, availability of local and external partners and appropriateness of training delivery methods, including use of technology. Training targeted at groups that were readily available, either existing employees or those who could be trained, appears to have been effective in meeting skill shortages because they considered the local labour market context. The Riverland VET in Schools Nursing Pathway programme was effective because it addressed two issues of concern to the district: the difficulty of adequately staffing health sector facilities and the paucity of local careers for school leavers. It drew on the willingness and determination of two key players, the Director of Nursing at the district hospital, and the District VET Coordinator from

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the Department for Education and Children’s Services, to jointly devise a solution to these ongoing problems. Riverland VET in Schools Nursing Programme The Riverland VET in Schools Nursing programme in regional South Australia, a training only model, is an example of the importance of partnerships in developing a model – here, partnerships between educational institutions, (four high schools and a Technical and Further Education Institute or TAFE), and industry (four hospitals with aged-care facilities). All partners benefit: the model offers clinical placement and post-school employment opportunities for the school/TAFE students, with a training pathway to higher education and nursing; it also addresses the shortage of workers in local aged care and health facilities. Hallmarks of the model are TVET responsiveness to industry needs; flexibility – with regard to placement training shifts, to TAFE tuition sessions and to school timetables; and strong community support for the programme. Funding for the programme came from the South Australian Department of Health and from the schools’ own funds.

Training components of programmes within organizations were often complemented by a focus on retention of workers, increased job satisfaction and better career paths. Successful solutions provided a direct link between skills development and employment and offered pathways to and from other training to ensure worker retention. In addition to knowledge and understanding of the workforce and related community context, effective models demonstrated clear understanding of the workplace context. The development of the new role of Care Supervisor by Baptist Community Services started by considering organization/work unit tasks, competencies required and job (re)design. This resulted in training developed to upskill existing TVET qualified workers for the specially created role as adjunct to Registered Nurses in aged care, allowing Registered Nurses to be released for clinical leadership and case management. A care supervisor workgroup first developed position descriptions, policy and communication and change strategy. The recruitment and selection process followed.

Care Supervisors Baptist Community Services developed the Care Supervisors model as a response to skill shortages in their aged-care facilities in Sydney, Newcastle and Canberra. The role is an adjunct to the registered nurse’s role. There are two qualification pathways for the care supervisor position: Certificate IV in Aged Care Work and Medication Management for endorsed enrolled

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nurses. An industrial award was negotiated for salary. Demand within the organization for further Certificate IV in Aged Care Work courses increased. While there remains some discomfort over people other than registered nurses administering medication, and the cost at facility level for releasing staff for training is a problem, the organization planned to maintain and develop the care supervisors as a group with further education and updating of skills.

The availability of partners varies from context to context. In remote communities, in particular, local Aboriginal health workers act as cultural brokers, linking community members and medical staff. The Aboriginal Health Worker Oral Health Training programme drew on partners within and outside the community where the skill shortage was located. The cultural fit of the programme extended to alignment of curriculum, delivery and pedagogy with local Indigenous cultural perceptions, values and needs.

Aboriginal Health Worker Oral Health Training Programme The Aboriginal Health Worker Oral Health Training programme is a partnership involving a university, state health department and an Aboriginal medical services council. It is offered in various locations within rural and remote Western Australia, and expands the scope of Aboriginal Health Workers to include a focus on dental care, in order to meet the specific health needs of participating communities. This culturally appropriate, basic, preventative oral health delivery programme is delivered by a specially established registered training organization (RTO). Trained Aboriginal Health Workers complete a stand-alone oral health module designed to complement Aboriginal Health Worker Certificates III and IV. On completion, they are encouraged to implement preventative measures at a local level to reduce the need for later dental interventions. There are early indications of pockets of improved knowledge about dental practices in areas where the programme has been run.

There were some consistent themes relating to barriers or challenges to developing these innovative models. These included policy and organizational issues, such as the need for both policy and organizational flexibility to accommodate changing workplace needs, and the need for supportive, collaborative solutions to skill shortages. Some of the models identified developed out of local collaborations that were customized to local needs, and were then expanded or reproduced elsewhere. This occurred through replication of core processes in their development in contexts of similar need. The Queensland aged-care skill ecosystem adopted this approach,

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starting with a number of local pilots which were evaluated to distil the core processes before the strategy was rolled out across the state. Queensland Aged-Care Skills Formation Strategy A holistic and long-term solution to skill shortages in the aged-care sector, this strategy challenges traditional thinking about skill shortages and training, offering an innovative solution to problems where traditional solutions have failed. Industry is the driver of reform, working collaboratively with government, registered training organizations, unions and other key stakeholders. The ability and willingness of stakeholders to take risks and think outside the square are hallmarks of the model. The model is a long-term approach to skill shortages in the aged care industry, involving all relevant stakeholders and including a range of solutions such as education and training, job redesign and supply chain issues. It is applicable across different industry sectors and can be applied at a regional or statewide level.

The strategy was underpinned by strong support at a statewide level from influential partners, including an industry skills council committed to disseminating detailed information about development of the initiative. This assisted in customizing the model to local circumstances and increased the likelihood of sustainability. Other models, such as the Riverland VET in Schools model, have much potential for transferability but have not been disseminated as widely.

A Summary or Synthesis of the Main Themes of Our Investigation, and the Implications for TVET Policy and Practice The models discussed in this chapter reveal important characteristics of effectiveness. The models are clearly focused: they concentrate on skilling/upskilling existing employees, or on identifying a target group of employees who may not otherwise have considered a career in health. A partnership approach means that responsibility and resources for addressing skill shortages is jointly shared between the health sector, education and training organizations and government, with employers/industry taking a proactive role in models that are effective in addressing the shortage. The training component in the models is complemented by a focus on retention of workers, with better career paths and increased job satisfaction. The implication for those developing and implementing models is to pay attention to a good practice checklist that requires a partnership involving both industry and training sectors; customization of the solution to suit the context; training and employment pathways: and monitoring and evaluation, followed by dissemination, so effective models can be transferred. Many of the models had not been rigorously evaluated, suggesting a clear need for quantitative measures such as

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THE CHALLENGE skill shortage

AREA OF SHORTAGE VET qualification skill shortage Professional qualification skill shortage

CONSIDER RESOURCE CONTEXT Availability of unskilled workers Availability of lower-level VET workers Availability of higher-level VET workers Availability of partners (training, health, other) Funding and infrastructure

SELECT SOLUTION DURATION(S) Immediate (within 12 months) Medium term (1−3 years) Long term (more than 3 years)

SELECT SCOPE OF SOLUTION Local (one health service/geographic location) Regional (multiple stakeholders/sites within region) State/national (multiple stakeholders and statewide or national focus)

CONSIDER CHECKLIST OF GOOD PRACTICE Partnership involving industry and training sector Customization of solution to suit context Training and employment pathways Monitoring and evaluation

MODEL 1: TRAINING Features Targeted at specific worker/ potential worker cohort Customized to meet identified skill needs of job and worker(s) Articulated training provides a career path Clear link between training and gaining employment Direct response to shortage of specific group of VET Worker skills

CONSIDER ACTION CONTEXT Health, education, VET policy/environment Workplace environment Industrial relations Resources Willingness of partners to work together Community factors (Indigenous, Rural, Culturally and Linguistically Diverse) Technology and training options

MODEL 2: JOB REDESIGN & TRAINING Features

Incorporates most features of model 1 Looks at tasks first, then redesigns job, identifies competencies and develops training Encourages retention of workers through career paths and job satisfaction Mobility across health roles Organization-wide response to skill shortage

MODEL 3: HOLISTIC Features Incorporates features of models 1 and 2 Multifaceted solution including training, job redesign, supply chain, industrial relations, industry image Industry/government response to skill shortages Response to skil shortages within an entire industry sub-sector (e.g. aged care)

Fig. 10.1 Process for designing solutions that use VET to skills shortages in health

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outputs and low-level outcomes to be supplemented by qualitative measures such as case studies, which capture the interactions and processes of the initiative. Consideration of the context emerged as a necessary condition for effectiveness. From over 70 models examined in the research, and from the literature, contextual factors can be placed into two groups: resource context and action context. Factors to be considered in the resource context are • • • • •

Availability of unskilled workers Availability of lower-level TVET workers Availability of higher-level TVET workers Availability of partners (training, health, other) Funding and infrastructure. Factors to be considered in the action context are

• • • • • •

Health, education, TVET policy/environment Workplace environment Industrial relations Willingness of partners to work together Community factors (Indigenous, rural, culturally and linguistically diverse) Technology and training delivery options.

These factors are summarised in Fig. 10.1 above, which situates consideration of the context at the centre of the process of designing TVET solutions to skill shortages in health. The implications of this insight into innovative TVET solutions to skills shortages in the health sector apply to all stakeholders at all levels. Systemic implications include the need for sustainable funding, subject to evaluation. Everyone needs to be aware of what is being done – the effective processes that enable solutions, the potential for transferability to new sites, the need for evaluation and dissemination, the barriers to innovation – and the implications of these for policy and practice. All partners must share responsibility jointly.

References ABS. (2000). Job growth and replacement needs in nursing occupations, Cited in DEST 2001. Retrieved October 18, 2005, from web site: http://www.dest.gov.au/archive/highered/eippubs/ eip01_18/5.htm#2_6 ABS. (2005). Job vacancies Cat. 6354.0. Retrieved October 18, 2005, from web site: http://www. abs.gov.au ABS. (2006). Education and work Australia May 2006, Catalogue no. 6227.0. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia. Australian Institute of Health and Welfare. (2003). Health and Community Services labour force 2001, AIHW Cat. no. HWL 27 and ABS Cat. no.8936.0, Canberra.

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Australian Medical Association. (2004). AMA Indigenous Health Report calls for more Indigenous health workers and an extra $452.5 million a year in targeted funding, Media Release 12 August. Retrieved July 28, 2006, from web site: http://www.ama.com.au/web.nsf/doc/WEEN63S2AD Australian National Training Authority. (2003). Shaping our future: Australia s National Strategy for VET 2004–2010. Brisbane: ANTA. Australian National Training Authority. (2005). ANTA national skill ecosystem project: The role of VET providers in delivering improved outcomes across skill networks, Phase 2 Final Report. Brisbane: ANTA/NSW Department of Education and Training. Australian Qualifications Framework. (2007). About the AQF. Retrieved November 13, 2007, from website: http://www.aqf.edu.au/aboutaqf.htm Billett, S., Clemans, A., & Seddon, T. (2004). Forming and sustaining social partnerships. Adelaide: National Centre for Vocational Education Research. Chapman, S., Showstack, J., Morrison, E., Franks, P., Woo, L., & O’Neil, E. (2004). Allied health workforce: Innovations for the 21st century. San Francisco: University of California. Community Services and Health Industry Skills Council. (2005). Report May 2005. Retrieved October 17, 2005, from web site: http://www.cshisc.com.au/docs/upload/ CSHIndustrySkillsReport-FINAL160505.pdf Country Education Project Inc. and Youth Research Centre. (2001). Vocational education and training in small rural school communities. Adelaide: National Centre for Vocational Education Research. CRLRA. (2002). Learning communities in education and training, Vol 1 and 2, Report on the Role of VET in Regional Australia project for ANTA, Launceston, Centre for Research and Learning in Regional Australia, University of Tasmania. Cunliffe, A. (2004). First steps in a journey. Paper presented at the National Services for Australian Rural and Remote Allied Health (SARRAH) Conference, Alice Springs, August 26–28. Retrieved November 24, 2005, from web site: http://www.sarrah.org.au/sarrah/Papers/ Cunliffe.pdf Department of Education, Science and Training. (2001). Job growth and replacement needs in nursing occupations. Retrieved October 18, 2005, from web site: http://www.dest.gov.au/ archive/highered/eippubs/eip01_18/5.htm#2_6 Department of Health. (2005). Introduction to the skills escalator. National Health Service. Retrieved November 14, 2005, from website: http://www.dh.gov.uk/PolicyAndGuidance/ HumanResourcesAndTraining/ModelEmployee/SkillsEscalatorArticle/fs/en?CONTENT_ID= 4055527&chk=ZI7IKI Department of Health and Ageing. (2005). Medical workforce: The improvements. Retrieved November 24, 2005, from web site: http://www.health.gov.au/internet/wcms/publishing.nsf/ Content/factsheet-medical_workforce Duckett, S. (2005). Interventions to facilitate health workforce restructure. Australia and New Zealand Health Policy, 2(14). doi: 10.1186/1743-8462-2-14. Accessed 21 May, 2011, from website: http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1200557/pdf/1743-8462-2-14.pdf Goldberger, S. (2005). From the entry level to licensed practical nurse: Four case studies of career ladders in health care. Boston: Jobs for the Future. Goodale, B., & Lin, I. (2005). Midwest murchison region therapy assistant project (2003–2004) final report, Perth, WA Country Health Service, Government of Western Australia. Hall, R., & Lansbury, R. (2006). Skills in Australia: Towards workforce development and sustainable skill ecosystems. Journal of Industrial Relations, 48(5), 575–592. Hassmiller, S., & Cozine, M. (2005). Addressing the nurse shortage to improve the quality of patient care. Health Affairs, 25(1), 268–274. Hongoro, C., & McPake, B. (2004). How to bridge the gap in human resources for health. Lancet, 364, 1451–1456. Kearns, P., Bowman, K., & Garlick, S. (2008). The double helix of vocational education and training and regional development, Adelaide, National Centre for Vocational Education Research.

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Retrieved November 23, 2008, from website: http://www.ncver.edu.au/publications/1989. html Kilpatrick, S., Le, Q., Johns, S., Millar, P., & Routley, G. (2007). Responding to health skills shortages: Innovative directions from vocational education and training, Adelaide, National Centre for Vocational Education Research. Retrieved November 22, 2007, from website: http:// www.ncver.edu.au/publications/1833.html Meagher, G., & Healy, K. (2006). Who cares? Vol. 2: Employment structure and incomes in the Australian care workforce. Strawberry Hills, NSW: Australian Council of Social Service. Pacza, T., Steele, L., & Tennant, M. (2001). Development of oral health training for rural and remote aboriginal health workers. Australian Journal of Rural Health, 9, 105–110. Pashen, D., Felton-Busch, C., Blackman, R., & Solomon, S. (2005). Educational pathways for indigenous students into health careers. Interprofessional Education conference, November, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. Productivity Commission. (2005). Australia’s health workforce, Research Report, Canberra, Commonwealth of Australia. Queensland Community Services and Health Industries Training Council. (2006). Queensland Aged Care Skill Ecosystem (Supply Chain) Project, Final Report, Brisbane. Richardson, S. (2007). What is a skill shortage? Adelaide: National Centre for Vocational Education Research. Smith, D. J., O’Dea, K., McDermott, R., Schmidt, B., & Connors, C. (2006). Educating to improve population health outcomes in chronic disease: an innovative workforce initiative across remote, rural and Indigenous communities in northern Australia, Rural and Remote Health, Vol. 6 (Online). Article No. 606. Retrieved November 8, 2008, from web site: http:// www.rrh.org.au/publishedarticles/article_print_606.pdf The Australian Workplace. (2007). Skills in demand. Retrieved November 12, 2007, from website: http://www.workplace.gov.au/workplace/Publications/ResearchStats/LabourMarketAnalysis/ SkillsInDemand/ United States Department of Labor. (2005). Goodwill industries: Competency evaluation nurses assistant programme, National Skills Summit. Retrieved September 29, 2005, from web site http://www.dol.gov/_sec/skills_summitp2s3b.htm

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Vocational Education Pedagogy and the Situated Practices of Teaching Core Skills Roy Canning

Introduction The research explores the themes of the ‘situatedness’ of vocational learning and the pedagogic practices of teachers in vocational settings, in particular, the teaching of generic core skills at foundation level to novice vocational learners in training centres and colleges throughout Scotland. Core Skills are formally recognized modules on communication, numeracy, ICT, problem solving and working with others. They are offered at access and intermediate skills levels as part of the Scottish Qualifications and Credit Framework (Raffe, 2003). The awards form part of all workplace skills programmes such as Modern Apprenticeships and ‘Get Ready for Work’ courses. The chapter identifies the aims of the study, describes the research methods used within the research, provides a literature review of the teaching of generic core skills, discusses the research findings and explores the conceptual issues raised from the study. Finally, the outcomes of the research are discussed within an international context of the teaching and assessment of generic core skills within the workplace.

Overview and Methodology The overall aim of the research was to undertake an investigation into the teaching and assessment of workplace generic core skills within organizations from across Scotland. In particular, the research questions aimed to identify the pattern of takeup of the awards based upon the level of award and the age and gender of candidates, determine ‘best practice’ in the delivery and assessments of core skills and to make recommendations on how teachers can more effectively design suitable curricula for work-based educational programmes. The core skills in question are stand-alone

R. Canning (B) School of Education, University of Stirling, Stirling, FK9 4LA, UK e-mail: [email protected]

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modules of general vocational competencies that are offered within colleges, training centres and workplaces. They are certificated awards recognized at different levels within the Scottish Qualifications and Credit Framework. The study included both quantitative and qualitative research methods and was structured into three distinct phases: • consolidation of existing literature on the delivery and assessment of Core/Key skills; • collection and analysis of secondary data sources; and • cross-sectional case studies. There were 20 case study organizations and two pilot studies. The case studies involved undertaking 35 interviews with workplace vocational assessors, collecting teaching and assessment materials and undertaking two focus groups with candidates. The organizations covered private training companies, colleges and larger employers. The majority of the centres were private training providers. The conceptual framework used to underpin the design of the interview questionnaire was derived from an earlier study of Core Skills by Welsh and Canning (2002). This identified the following key elements for investigation: prior accredited learning; guidance, support and progression; design and delivery; assessment; staff development and the conceptualization of generic skills.

Literature Review The literature identifies three distinct methods for designing and assessing Core Skills, as ‘discrete’ units, as ‘signposted’ activities that are explicitly assessed within other subject areas and as ‘embedded’ texts that are implicit and automatically certificated as part of other awards (Canning, 2007a). The Workplace Core Skills units are primarily discrete units. There are also ‘signposted’ Core Skills within accredited programmes in colleges. The Core Skills can be assessed at different levels of attainment: Access 2, Access 3, Intermediate 1, Intermediate 2 and Higher. The ‘embedded’ approach is favoured in Scotland (Canning, 2007b; Scottish Government, 2008) but is gradually losing support as it is claimed that it does not adequately address the needs of a range of individuals (HMIE, 2001). Indeed, there are potential problems with the ‘embedded’ approach as the particular core skills may remain ‘hidden’ or ‘invisible’ to both the student and the employer (Green, Ashton, & Felstead, 2001). However, there is evidence to suggest that learners, teachers and parents are resistant to ‘stand-alone’ Key Skills assessments as they are seen as time consuming and unnecessary and can, in certain circumstances, lead to pupil disaffection (Hayward & Fernandez, 2004). The potential danger here is that generic transferable skills may be associated with a ‘deficit model’ of learning. Green (1998) argues that in comparison with the UK, other European countries spend twice as much classroom time with students on foundation skills. This broader

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vocational education is normally undertaken within a much more clearly defined taught curriculum. Unwin (2000) highlights the different approaches in the design and teaching of Key Skills based upon the notions of ‘integration’ and ‘separateness’. Their study claims that IT and Numeracy are often taught as separate subjects while Communications is integrated within the broader curricula. In contrast, the Quality and Performance Improvement Dissemination (QPID, 2000) study found that IT was the only key skill taught separately but also confirmed that the Application of Numbers and IT often caused the most difficulty for teachers. The QPID study also identified different approaches to the design and teaching of Key Skills based upon occupational areas. More traditional apprenticeship occupations tended to provide a ‘curriculum driven’ model of teaching Key Skills that integrated both ‘on and off the job’ training, while the newer service-based occupations tended to rely more heavily upon an ‘assessment driven’ curriculum model. The sectors also had very different gender profiles. Both studies found that employers, teachers and students preferred Key Skills to be integrated within a broader vocational curriculum. However, concerns were raised about the ability of non-specialist staff to deliver an integrated model of Key Skills provision. This was particularly the case when teaching the Key Skills of Working with Numbers and IT. Given the competence-based nature of Key Skills, there is a danger that assessment will drive the curriculum rather than the development of skills. This was a concern raised in the literature particularly when Key Skills formed part of a broader work-based programme such as Modern Apprenticeships or National and Scottish Vocational Qualifications (N/SVQs). Unwin (2000) found that assessment practices were most effective when ‘natural occurring’ evidence was used within a portfolio-based approach to teaching. However, this often resulted in a time consuming ‘one-to-one’ assessment relationship that required the assessor to both interpret and cross-reference much of the evidence used to support the assessment of the Key Skill. Students and employers were supportive of the work-based nature of much of the Key Skills assessment methodology. However, employers were concerned about the over-bureaucratic processes involved in the verification processes and students disliked the use of computer-based diagnostic tools. These tools were often associated with a ‘deficit’ model of learning. The literature suggests that separate Key Skill assessment within MAs and N/SVQs may lead to lower overall completion rates (Unwin, 2000). However, it could be argued that these work-based programmes already suffered from lower student completion rates in comparison with more traditional academic qualifications before the introduction of Core Skills (Canning, 1998; Canning & Lang, 2004). A range of studies indicate that students undertaking Key/Core Skills are of ‘mixed ability’ with a substantial number having difficulty with basic literacy and numeracy skills. This, it is suggested, leads to problems of motivation and retention on programmes and can result in student disaffection with the formal teaching of Core Skills as a series of separate subjects. Recent research has suggested a need to strengthen guidance procedures when advising and supporting students undertaking Core Skill programmes. In general terms, responses to student needs have been

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‘reactive’ rather than ‘proactive’ (HMIE, 2001). In fact, there is little evidence in the literature of any strategic approach to planning student support and guidance systems for Core Skills within institutions.

Secondary Data Analysis The overall number of registrations for Workplace Core Skills in Scotland over the period 2001–2005 stood at 40,020. This scale of activity is considerable and reflects a growth in demand for this relatively new approach to skills training. In terms of delivery, the majority of Workplace Core Skills are directly linked to the Modern Apprenticeship (MAs) frameworks. The number of MAs have also grown considerably during this period, both within traditional sectors and, interestingly, within the new service-based sectors of the economy. This expansion in the numbers taking MAs has also been associated with high participation rates of women in the care, retail, business administration and health-related sectors. A significant factor here is also the funding of MAs/Workplace Core Skills by the state. These changing patterns of gender participation within the MAs are also paralleled by interesting changes in age participation rates. The MA frameworks now permit relatively more mature workers to enrol in training programmes, particularly within the new service industries. Modern Apprenticeships are offered across a wide range of occupations and are normally taken at Level 3. In particular, the Workplace Core Skills were concentrated around Access 3 and Intermediate 1 levels within the MA programmes. The evidence from our research would suggest that this level of delivery is appropriate to the client group, given their previous experience of studying literacy and numeracy at school. From the ‘snap-shot’ analysis of the data from across the Awarding Bodies, it would appear that males are over-represented at Access 3 and Intermediate 1 levels of Workplace Core Skills and under-represented at the higher levels. Males were also more likely to be taking IT and Numeracy. This data is unsurprising in many ways, given the preponderance of young males on traditional Modern Apprenticeship programmes. However, a positive feature of the data is that women feature prominently across all Workplace Core Skills levels and subject areas. Again, this could be a reflection in the growth of Modern Apprenticeship registrations within the new service-based sectors. Overall, the pattern of delivery of Workplace Core Skills represents a positive balance in terms of gender. A second positive feature of the pattern of delivery of Workplace Core Skills was the distribution of candidates by age. Although the majority of registrations were for those aged 25 and under, a significant number of those participating in Workplace Core Skills came from quite a wider range of age groups, both for males and females. This is a distinct advantage of the Workplace Core Skill portfolio, particularly for those returning to work and/or embarking on life-skills training. Finally, the data suggests that there remains a concern with the level of awards being undertaken by

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the candidates. Although designed to cover a range of different levels of ability, in practice, the overall majority of Workplace Core Skills awards are still achieved at foundation levels.

Cross-Sectional Case Studies Prior Accredited Learning Respondents claimed to be aware of the possibility of using Accreditation of Prior Learning (APL) processes for assessing Workplace Core Skills. In fact, most claimed to have a basic understanding of the ‘Core Skill Profile’ and almost all indicated a willingness to identify candidates’ existing Core Skills through the use of profiling. This is a positive feature of the system that needs to be built upon. However, a note of caution should be sounded. Those using APL believed that the candidates coming from schools had been ‘taught’ Core Skills through the provision of discrete modules. They were not aware that the Core Skills were largely acquired through ‘embedding’ them within the wider school curriculum. Most respondents associated APL with the Accreditation of Prior Certificated Learning (APCL) and not the Accreditation of Prior Experiential Learning (APEL). The former was used extensively through the use of school certification and profiling. This may reflect the younger age group of the candidates on the MA programmes. However, it is a concern that older candidates’ experience is not being formally recognized and taken into account when undertaking the initial diagnostic assessment of Workplace Core Skills. This reluctance to use APEL could possibly be explained by the funding regime and/or the providers’ lack of confidence and training in offering prior accredited experiential learning frameworks. When questioned in more detail about APEL, respondents indicated that they would only consider particular types of evidence for Workplace Core Skills. Specifically, the interviewers discuss three related but distinct domains of experience that could provide useful evidence for Workplace Core Skills: • School-based activities • Work-based activities • Wider social-life experiences. Respondents would use certification for school-based activities, experiential evidence for work-based activities but would not in general accept experiential evidence from wider social and life activities.

Progression There was little evidence of progression between different levels of Workplace Core Skills. Candidates were allocated a Core Skills level depending on the

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apprenticeship framework requirement. This was all that they were expected to complete. We found very few examples of candidates progressing along Workplace Core Skill levels. This may be explained by the funding regime and/or the lack of initial diagnostic assessment. However, it may also be explained by the largely negative experience of Core Skills teaching that the majority of learners encountered while undertaking Workplace Core Skills. According to the students the main reasons for this were the low level of Core Skills required within the apprenticeship framework combined with the younger candidates’ previous experience with school-based literacy and numeracy practices. Although workplace core skill teachers found that candidates were ‘de-motivated’ by Workplace Core Skills, this did not have a significant impact on retention rates (16 per cent withdrawal rates) or, indeed, on the length of time it took to complete the overall awards. One of the reasons for this may be that Workplace Core Skills tended to be left to the end of the Modern Apprenticeship when it came to collecting evidence.

Design and Delivery of Workplace Core Skills The majority of respondents indicated that the design of Workplace Core Skills modules was undertaken by vocational instructors and assessors and not Core Skills specialist staff within institutions. Only a minority of respondents used Core Skills specialists and these were mainly to be found in colleges and amongst the providers offering ‘stand alone’ Workplace Core Skills modules. The respondents were asked to say how the five Workplace Core Skills were used within their training programmes using the following framework: • Discrete delivery • Integrated within a wider programme (explicit) • Embedded within an existing programme (implicit). Although there was missing data involved in the analysis (approximately 16 per cent) the most common methods for designing Workplace Core Skills are given below: • • • • •

Communication (Integrated) Numeracy (Discrete) Information Technology (Integrated) Working with others (Integrated) Problem solving (Integrated).

The Workplace Core Skills of Working with Others and Problem Solving are overwhelmingly designed as integrated/embedded components of a wider apprenticeship framework. Communication, to a lesser degree, is also often integrated within existing frameworks. Whilst IT retains a discrete component often linked

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to the ‘in-house’ availability of computers within training centres, it is largely integrated within the MA frameworks. Numeracy is the only Workplace Core Skill that was found to be offered discretely.

Assessment of Workplace Core Skills Just over half of the respondents indicated that they used diagnostic assessment tools. This mainly consisted of pre-entry tests of candidates for MA programmes and school certification based on profiling. There was no evidence to suggest the systematic use by providers of entry level diagnostic assessments of Workplace Core Skills. The overwhelming majority of respondents used continuous assessment practices when assessing Core Skills. Only a minority of the respondents used summative assessment. Interestingly, most claimed to use reassessment (remediation) practices thus allowing candidates to retake Workplace Core Skills. However, very few candidates seemed to ‘fail’ assessments and there was little documentary evidence of ‘repeat’ assessments. There was no independent assessment of Workplace Core Skills through external examination. The respondents were asked to list the most important assessment methods used for Workplace Core Skills. The most commonly occurring method by far was the ‘weaving of evidence through an existing portfolio’. This tended to occur towards the end of the Modern Apprenticeship and often resulted in additional evidence being ‘bolted on’ to a portfolio (usually at the back). Respondents argued that this ‘naturally occurring evidence’ was appropriate for the collection of evidence on Workplace Core Skills. However, it was difficult at times to see what was ‘natural’ about the process as it appeared often to replicate what already existed within the portfolios.

Conceptualizing Core Skills The respondents were asked whether they thought Workplace Core Skills were • general transferable skills • occupationally specific skills • context/task-specific skills. The majority claimed that Workplace Core Skills were general transferable skills. The interviewers then proceeded to closely question the respondents on the nature of these skills in order to identify specific examples of how Workplace Core Skills were applied in practice. All the examples given were of context-specific skills linked to a particular organization or within an occupation. For instance, • Calculating heat loss from a radiator (service engineer) • Writing a child development record (child care)

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Computer register of children (child care) Calculating colour correction (hairdressing) Computer fault finding on cars (mechanics) Calculating temperatures on fridge/freezer (catering).

The level of understanding of the above tasks was often rather superficial. The broader underlying principles involved were rarely discussed. The assessment processes tended to reinforce this ‘instrumental’ approach to skills. Candidates were often only required to produce evidence of Workplace Core Skills on a sampling basis (two occasions for example), which tended to reinforce an assessment-driven rather than curriculum-driven model of learning. Finally, respondents were asked whether they thought Workplace Core Skills were individual and/or collective competencies. Approximately 16 per cent of respondents believed them to be individual competencies, 22 per cent believed them to be collective competencies and 62 per cent claimed that they were a combination of both. This is an interesting finding as much of the assessment and teaching of Workplace Core Skills is based upon the notion of ‘individual competencies’ that are transferable across occupational boundaries (Boreham, 2004).

International Perspectives What are the international implications of the study? First, it is important to recognize that the search for generic decontextualized skills could, in fact, be a ‘wild goose chase’ and that national cultural dimensions and the importance of the local context may be much more important in designing and teaching core skills. Here comparative international studies (McSkeane, 2006; OECD, 2007) can also provide useful insights into how vocational skills can raise expectations and standards across the curriculum. Above all, it is important to recognize that we need to teach employability skills in a context-dependent and embodied manner that engages learners through shared practices and understanding. Although it is difficult to compare educational systems in different countries (Raffe, 2008) lessons have emerged from the study in terms of the teaching of generic skills. Second, the ‘best practice’ providers in the delivery and assessment of Workplace Core Skills were those which combined employability and/or the upgrading of skills with certification. These organizations tended to • use initial diagnostic tools for assessment, • formally recognize prior certificated and experiential learning, • place the candidates at the appropriate level according to their level of ability rather than the level identified in the MA framework, • deliver an induction course to candidates, • provide individual guidance and support, • have a clear idea of a ‘core’ curriculum planning model,

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• underpin their teaching of Workplace Core Skills, • use integrated and continuous forms of assessment linked to the Modern Apprenticeship framework, • ‘adapt’ Awarding Body materials to support the learning and assessment of their candidates. This group of providers tended to offer a curriculum-led model of Workplace Core Skills that was clearly linked to employability and the upgrading of skills. Certification was then an outcome of this broader employer-based approach to Core Skills. This approach was closer to the notion of ‘expansive’ rather than restricted learning put forward by Fuller and Unwin (2008). In contrast, those providers which concentrated mainly on the certification of Workplace Core Skills tended to • offer no initial diagnostic assessment of candidates, • avoid the use of prior certificated or experiential learning, • place candidates on the Modern Apprenticeship Framework level of Workplace Core Skills irrespective of their level of ability, • provide no induction programme, • offer a very limited amount of explicit teaching of Workplace Core Skills, • ‘bolt-on’ Workplace Core Skills assessment evidence to the end of the Modern Apprenticeship portfolio, • use Awarding Body materials as definitive tools of assessment rather than as a guide to practice. In general terms, those assessment-led providers focused primarily on the certification of Workplace Core Skills and tended to offer candidates fewer opportunities for progression within the Workplace Core Skill framework. This type of learning was clearly based upon a notion of ‘trainability’ and ‘transferability’, which is often associated with an impoverished view of the capabilities of young people (Simmons, 2009). Third, there has been an ongoing debate in the international literature on how to design and deliver intermediate skills (Kraak, 2008; Taylor & Watt-Malcolm, 2007). This normally comes down to whether the generic skills should be taught in an ‘integrated’ or ‘separate’ manner. The data from the case studies tended to reinforce some of these pedagogical dilemmas. Of the five Workplace Core Skills, it was only Numeracy that was taught as a discrete unit. The main reason for this was that vocational trainers found it difficult to find natural occurring examples of numerical activities within particular occupations that could be used within the daily work activities of candidates. The other main Workplace Core Skills subject areas were generally delivered through integrated learning processes that, for instance, combined Communication and IT skills with routine work activities. There were a number of good examples from the curriculum-led providers of such transparent and integrated ‘learning from work’ pedagogies. However, the Workplace Core Skills of Problem Solving and Working with Others were rather more problematic. The

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majority of training providers tended to see them as embedded implicitly in ongoing work activities. As a consequence, the Workplace Core Skills candidates received very little structured training on these topics. Overall, there was limited evidence of the systematic design and delivery of Workplace Core Skills training based upon a shared understanding of the curriculum.

Conclusions In conclusion, I would like to draw out two important themes emerging from the research. First, an interesting aspect of the general debate on Key and Core Skills is whether the skills are genuinely generic and transferable. The universal notion of skills has recently come under critical scrutiny by many observers. In fact, the latest policy documents on the education of 14–19-year-olds in England have dropped the term Key Skills in favour of the notion of ‘functional’ skills. In Scotland, there is a movement away from Core Skills to ‘Essential’ Skills, the latter embracing the wider issues of employability, social responsibility and basic literacies in education (Scottish Government, 2007). So it was interesting to elicit the views of Workplace Core Skill trainers on the intrinsic nature of the skills that they were teaching and assessing. Although the overwhelming majority believed that Workplace Core Skills were transferable and generic in nature, in practice all their examples of such skills were context-dependent and specific to an organization and/or occupation. This is not surprising, however, given that Workplace Core Skills derive their meaning and significance from being local and particular. This, in fact, is what is valuable about them. Employers, generally speaking, are aware of this and will therefore fund these types of skills rather than the more ‘transferable’ ones. Therefore, learning numeracy by calculating heat loss from a radiator or calculating hair colour retention makes absolute sense for apprentices in gas engineering and hairdressing respectively. By attaching particular ‘meanings’ to arithmetic calculations candidates can relate this to their actual work experiences and feel better motivated to complete their studies. This applied context given to simple calculating functions is for many of the students a far cry from the more abstract theoretical mathematics teaching they received in the school classroom. Put simply, generic decontextualized transferable skills do not in fact exist (Canning, 2007b; Warhurst, Grugulis, & Keep, 2004). Second, what does the research study tell us about how to teach vocational skills to novice learners, particular establishing the link between theory and practice? There is a notion here that theory precedes and, in turn, shapes practice. That learning is based upon the use of a coherent body of applied theoretical knowledge and that, for instance, ‘all bricklaying ability depends upon knowledge of physics’ (Clarke & Winch, 2006). However, the case study data would seem to suggest that this is not the case and that the ‘substance of practice’ may have its own internal coherence and logic. In fact, that understanding can be found within the particular and practical where meaning is defined by use rather than an external theoretical logic. This debate is often characterized in the international literature as

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an Anglo-Saxon preference for outcome-based qualifications and, as a consequence, a disappointing lack of interest in theory. This apparent narrowing of the curriculum is often associated with National Vocational Qualifications and competence-based assessment methodologies. However, this critique is far too simplistic and ignores a longstanding philosophical debate in favour of the pragmatic and the intelligible. Here theory is not distinct from practice but contained within it and inseparable from it. It is not possible in this context to separate out ‘propositional knowledge’ as this knowledge already presupposes a set of meanings and practices (Monk, 2005). The vocational aspects of learning can, therefore, be better developed through engaging in the occupational practices of the industry. Put simply, to teach core skills you need to start with the contextualized ‘practices’ that you want to teach and use these multiple and collective experiences to help the student make the necessary connections and insights in order to learn. This ‘useful’ type of learning will normally be active, embodied and particular, and will, over time, provide the necessary ‘understanding’ required to develop expertise in the field.

References Boreham, N. (2004). A theory of collective competence: Challenging neo-liberal individualisation of performance at work. British Journal of Educational Studies, 52, 5–17. Canning, R. (1998). The failure of competence-based qualifications: An analysis of work-based vocational education policy in Scotland. Journal of Education Policy, 13(5), 625–639. Canning, R. (2007a). A history of core skills policy development in Scotland. Scottish Educational Review, 39(2), 138–147. Canning, R. (2007b). Re-conceptualising core skills. Journal of Education and Work, 20(1), 17–26. Canning, R., & Lang, I. (2004). Modern apprenticeships in Scotland. Journal of Education Policy, 18(4), 625–639. Clarke, L., & Winch, C. (2006). A European skills framework?- but what are skills? Anglo-Saxon versus German concepts. Journal of Education and Work, 19(3), 255–269. Fuller, A., & Unwin, L. (2008). Towards expansive apprenticeships. London: TLRP, Institute of Education, University of London. Green, A. (1998). Core skills, key skills and general culture. Evaluation and Research and Education, 12(1), 23–43. Green, F., Ashton, D., & Felstead, A. (2001). Estimating the determinants of supply of computing, problem-solving, communication, social and team working skills. Oxford Economic Papers, 3, 406–433. Hayward, G., & Fernandez, R. (2004). From core skills to key skills: Fast forward or back to the future. Oxford review of Education, 30(1), 117–145. HMIe. (2001). Core skills in scottish further education colleges. Edinburgh: Her Majesties Inspectors of Education. Kraak, A. (2008). Incoherence in the South African labour market for intermediate skills. Journal of Vocational Education and Work, 21(3), 197–215. McSkeane, E. M. (2006). Core skills towards policy and practice. Unpublished PhD thesis, Maynooth, NUI. Monk, R. (2005). How to read Wittgenstein. London: Granta Books. OECD. (2007). Review of National Policies for Education: Quality and equity of schooling in Scotland. Paris: OECD.

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Quality and Performance Improvement Dissemination/DfEE Study Report. (2000). Delivery of key skills in modern apprenticeships, No. 89 November London, DfEE. Raffe, D. (2003). ‘Simplicity Itself’ the creation of the scottish credit and qualifications framework. Journal of Education and Work, 16(3), 94–109. Raffe, D. (2008). The concept of transition system. Journal of Education and Work, 21(4), 277–296. Scottish Government. (2007). Skills for Scotland a lifelong skills strategy. Edinburgh: Scottish Government. Scottish Government. (2008). Evaluation of skills for work pilot courses, Final Report. Edinburgh: Scottish Government. Simmons, R. (2009). Entry to employment: Discourses of inclusion and employability in workbased learning for young people. Journal of Education and Work, 22(2), 137–151. Taylor, A., & Watt-Malcolm, B. (2007). Expansive learning through high school apprenticeships: Opportunities and limits. Journal of Education and Work, 21(1), 27–44. Unwin, L. (2000). Review of key skills. Leicester: University of Leicester. Warhurst, C., Grugulis, I., & Keep, E. (2004). The skills that matter. London: Palgrave. Welsh, H., & Canning, R. (2002). Reviewing the core skills profile. Glasgow: Scottish Qualifications Authority, SQA.

Chapter 12

Literacies in the Learning Careers of Students Richard Edwards and Kate Miller

Introduction The Literacies for Learning in Further Education (LfLFE) research project1 (Ivanic et al., 2009, www.lancs.ac.uk/lflfe) was a 3-year study between 2004 and 2007, which sought to explore the literacy practices associated with learning in a number of curriculum areas in English and Scottish further-education colleges. Colleges were traditionally the providers of vocational education for 16–19-year-olds, but in recent decades have become providers of opportunities from basic to higher education for students aged 16 and above. They are very diverse in terms of what they teach and their student cohorts. Within colleges, there is a significant issue over the literacy capacities of students and the impact on their learning and attainment. This was the focus of the LfLFE project, thus the concern to explore the reading and writing practices associated with learning and assessment in different curriculum areas. However, the project also sought to explore the everyday literacy practices of students of those subjects, the premise being that students often do more outside of education than is imagined and that pedagogic ways to draw upon these literacy resources would enable them to learn more successfully. The project therefore had the innovative premise of enhancing students’ learning by drawing upon their everyday reading and writing practices. In this chapter, we explore one curriculum area within the wider LfLFE project, that of Childcare, where mostly young women are educated to work with very young children. Part of the rationale for the project was to compare and contrast literacies for learning between the English and Scottish college contexts, given the different policy and curriculum contexts. In order to do this, it was decided that we would research Childcare courses across the four different college settings – two in 1 This

chapter arises from work done within the Literacies for Learning in Further Education research project, funded by the ESRC’s Teaching and Learning Research Programme (grant number RES-139-25-0117). It reflects the work of the whole team to whom we are indebted.

R. Edwards (B) School of Education, University of Stirling, Stirling, FK9 4LA, Scotland, UK e-mail: [email protected]

R. Catts et al. (eds.), Vocational Learning, Technical and Vocational Education and Training: Issues, Concerns and Prospects 14, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-1539-4_12,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2011

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Scotland and two in England. Childcare therefore gives us the greatest opportunity to compare and contrast literacy practices in relation to one subject area. The macro-policy initiatives of both England and Scotland position Childcare and Early Years’ Education courses as direct routes into the workplace. These courses are also meant to provide the potential for student progression into higher education. This is part of wider reforms in the labour market to career progression for those who begin working with children in less-qualified positions. College Childcare courses can therefore fulfil a dual role. However, while there are similarities between England and Scotland in relation to overall policy, a major area of difference in colleges relates to the meso-level, in particular in relation to awarding bodies and the curriculum. In Scotland, the Scottish Qualifications Authority (SQA) is the sole, nondepartmental, body responsible for the development, accreditation, assessment and certification of qualifications pertaining to Childcare. The introduction of the Scottish Credit and Qualifications Framework (SCQF) has led to the potential for clear progression for students to higher levels of study. All parties involved – employers, learners and college staff – can track in principle which level of qualification leads to the next, how many credits each qualification has and how they relate one to the other. In England, there is a separation between awarding bodies and curriculum development. While the Qualifications and Curriculum Authority (QCA) provides quality assurance for courses that receive further education funding, there is a plethora of awarding bodies who design, develop and verify qualifications. Consistency of levels is maintained across these qualifications through the regulatory criteria within the National Qualifications Framework (NQF) which is managed by QCA. The QCA regulates and develops the curriculum, assessments, examinations and qualifications. But qualifications are granted by the different awarding bodies. An awarding body must gain recognized status from the QCA before it can propose qualifications for accreditation within the NQF. The complexity arising from the qualifications structure in England therefore differs from the more rationalized Scottish system. The extent to which these differences have significant impact on pedagogic and literacy practices was part of our interest in conducting a direct comparison between the Scottish and English colleges in the area of Childcare. This chapter therefore explores the literacy practices associated with learning Childcare in colleges. We seek to challenge some of the assumptions made around childcare as a subject by examining pedagogy through the lens of literacy. In particular, we seek to challenge assumptions that childcare is an area which can be associated with limited literacy among students. We also highlight the amount of actual and potential mediation of different contexts – college, home and workplace – that is conducted through writing in these courses. In the process, we first expand the notion of learning careers that has been taken up in the study of college students in general (Bloomer, 1997) and among Childcare students in particular (Colley, James, Tedder, & Diment, 2003) to embrace a notion of literacy careers. The concept of a literacy career enhances both research and pedagogy by enabling us to explore the ways in which students come

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to adopt certain forms of reading and writing as ‘allowable’ within their overall learning careers. Second, we explore the curriculum tension in the Childcare area that has emerged from attempting to put in place a career and qualifications structure that enables both preparation for the workplace and educational progression. Our aim then is to not only expand conceptually the notion of learning careers, but also to help illuminate certain issues and debates in the Childcare areas that have emerged from our study of the literacy practices of students. We also offer some observations on the comparisons between studying Childcare in England and Scotland. While there has been much attention given to the literacy practices of young children (e.g. Gee, 2003), particularly in relation to their interactions with digital technologies (e.g. Plowman & Stephen, 2005), significantly less attention has been given to the literacy practices of those who are to work with young children. It is the latter which is the focus of this chapter. The chapter is divided into three parts. First, we provide the conceptual and methodological background of the LfLFE project. Second, we explore the key findings of the project in relation to Childcare as a subject, expanding on the points made above. Finally, we indicate some of the possible implications of these findings.

Background to the Study Literacy is often seen as an autonomous value-free attribute lying within the individual – a set of singular and transferable technical skills which can be taught, measured and tested at certain levels of competence. Such assumptions tend to result in individual deficit views of students’ capacities to engage in, and with, reading and writing (Canning, 2007). By contrast, the LfLFE project worked with the notion that literacies are not an abstract set of skills that can be learnt in isolation from contexts of use, but are developed within meaningful and purposive activity. Thus our use of the term ‘literacy practices’ rather than literacy. We also viewed literacy practices broadly as embracing icon and screen as well as text and page, and the many multimodal artefacts and genres of communication which are to be found in colleges and everyday life, including the use of computers, mobile phones, etc (Kress, 2003). The importance of recognizing the situated and context-specific nature of literacy practices, how they are shaped by the institutional imperatives, epistemologies and cultural practices of the contexts in which they are located, has been demonstrated by work in New Literacy Studies (e.g. Barton & Hamilton, 1998; Barton, Hamilton, & Ivanic, 2000; Lankshear & Knobel, 2003). This research has raised serious questions about the pedagogical integrity of teaching literacy as a set of isolated, transferable technical skills. It has also opened up the everyday through ethnographic exploration, demonstrating that people who may achieve educationally often nonetheless engage in a rich and diverse range of literacy practices associated with activities, such as organizing life, maintaining relationships, finding things out. Literacy is not therefore something that is only developed through formal schooling. It is also learnt through participation in everyday activities.

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A situated view of literacy focuses on the meaningful and practical work people do through textual mediation (the way in which texts are used to achieve particular purposes). Specific forms of reading and writing are engaged with in the attempt to do things. Thus our focus was on literacies for learning rather than the learning of literacy. This situated view has also been used in the elaboration of the concept of learning careers in further education. The concept of learning careers refers to the development of a student’s dispositions to knowledge and learning over time. But that development is not to be understood simply as arising from the determined impact of enduring psychological traits upon dispositions. Rather, dispositions change as the result of the partly unpredictable influences of a variety of social and other factors, themselves mediated through horizons for action (Bloomer, 1997, p. 150, emphasis in original).

The concept of learning careers has developed in the attempt to provide a sociological understanding of the complex interactions between structure and agency, and past, present and future in the development of specific disposition to learning and knowledge. However, what is noticeable is that it does not address the semiotic mediations of these sociological processes. These processes are mediated through the use of a wide range of texts and their associated meaning-making practices. Thus, while the cognitive and material aspects of learning are addressed in the concept of learning careers, the communicative dimensions are overlooked. In our project, therefore, exploring learning through the lens of literacy practices, we started to posit that learning careers are also literacy careers, which develop dispositions towards certain forms of reading and writing in the textual mediation of learning. To undertake this project, we adopted a collaborative ethnographic approach. To this end four university-based researchers worked alongside 16 college lecturers (four in each of the four participating colleges). In each of the participating colleges, two Childcare units at two different levels were researched alongside the four Childcare lecturers who acted as college-based researchers. It was the intention of the project that the units chosen for the research would cover different levels of study, different student populations and different learning settings. However, the practicalities of working in the dynamic naturalistic settings of colleges meant that the final selection became focused more on full-time units and students than we would have liked. Only one of the units came from a part-time programme. Across the four colleges, we looked at four units within the higher level of HNC/Level 3 and 4 units at the lower levels. Each unit consists of approximately 40 h of learning and teaching. The Childcare courses were all categorized as being vocational by the lecturers although at HNC level there exists the option to transfer on to a degree programme. However, as is discussed below, the range and type of literacy practices were not always well matched to the intended vocational routes. Within each unit, we also worked with four students to examine their literacy practices in and out of college. Where possible the students themselves became involved in the process as co-researchers and not simply respondents. However, it was recognized by the team that for many of the students, the use of the term ‘co-researcher’ to represent their involvement was more aspirational than evident

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from practice. Other than the three students who were on the Edexel National Certification in Early Years (Level 3) programme in England, which was aimed at mature students, our student participants were learners aged 16–19 and on full-time courses. With one exception, the 32 students were female. Similarly, all of the Childcare lecturers who worked with the project gathering data were also female. One college had a male head of provision for Childcare and there were male teachers in the departments from which Childcare operated. However, they were usually Social Science teachers or Science-based teachers who taught some aspects of the courses related to health. Colley et al. (2003) found when studying further education that Childcare continues to be a feminized vocational area. It is not within the scope of this chapter to explore this aspect of Childcare provision, but we feel it is worthy of note that there has been a growing drive to improve the status, pay and conditions of those working with children. In three of the four colleges, the programmes we studied were called ‘Childcare and Education’, but in Scotland during a later phase of the research, these course titles were changed to ‘Early Education and Childcare’. This change in emphasis reflects a move to professionalize Childcare work by aligning it with the already professionalized area of Education. Using a variety of interviews, focus group, observational and visual approaches, we collected data on the multimodal literacy practices associated with the teaching, learning and assessment on each of the units and explored the everyday literacy practices both within and outside the college of the random sample of students on each of those units. This data was subject to forms of descriptive and thematic analysis and the outcomes were explored in a one-day workshop in which the university-based researchers and college education Childcare lecturers participated.

Literacies for Learning A range of artefacts and practices were used in the textual mediation of learning Childcare, with their use arising out of a complex interplay of factors. Tutors’ choices of classroom material and assessments were influenced by • • • • • •

the unit descriptors from which they were working, other forms of guidance from awarding bodies, the culture of college departments, the tutors’ professional training and expectations, the perceived demands of the workplace, and the anticipated practices of higher education.

All of these were mediated through the judgement of the lecturer on the approach to be adopted in teaching specific topics in specific ways. Most relied on what we suggest are fairly traditional styles of pedagogic mediation, entailing continual use of a relatively limited range of types of reading and writing. In particular, Childcare

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was distinctive as not only were the students using texts to learn about their curriculum area, but also the teaching and learning of literacy to young children was one of the topics of the curriculum. Across all levels students were expected to engage with a wide range of literacy artefacts. They read overhead transparencies (OHTs), locally and nationally devised handouts, PowerPoint presentations, information sheets, worksheets, magazines, flipcharts, instruction leaflets, commercially produced advisory and information leaflets, internet sites, journals and books. As they progressed through the levels, the patterns of participation changed. Students were increasingly expected to undertake these tasks independently and lecturers were more likely to expect that the students could engage with practices around the texts unproblematically. In addition, the modes and technologies, and genres, styles and designs of texts students had to read changed as the levels increased. At the lower levels students could expect to read more publicly available, multimodal texts like leaflets and magazines, and were less likely to be presented with official or extended texts like policy documents. Pedagogic texts were more likely to be ‘simplified’ by reducing the content to a series of bullet points. This reduction posed challenges for students because the reading had been decontextualized to the extent that it became a list of information to be remembered rather than embedded within wider practices. This process of simplification made it more difficult for students to relate the information to the practical context. In contrast, at the higher levels, students were more likely to be expected to read extended academic or official text with fewer images. Across all levels, reading was perceived to be less of a potential ‘problem’ for students than writing. As a result few lecturers taught or discussed reading practices explicitly, especially at the higher levels. The Childcare courses involved a lot of writing as well as reading. Students were involved in note taking from OHTs, PowerPoint presentations and videos, completing worksheets, drawing spider-grams, preparing presentations and wall displays, writing menus, lists and schedules, producing leaflets and posters, making notes when researching topics using internet or books, writing essays and reports, completing logbooks and designing game shows. As with reading, some of these written tasks embedded in practical activities were invisible in the sense that tutors did not recognize the literacy demands they were making in terms of reading and writing. The variety and extent of literacy practices on Childcare courses was, for the most part, a surprise to the lecturers, who tended to think only of ‘writing essays’ as ‘literacy’. Expecting students to find ‘essay writing’ difficult, special classes were sometimes provided on this issue, usually at Induction, taught mainly by Core/Key Skills teachers. The practice of teaching essay writing in discrete sessions as a set of generic skills which can be transferred later is part of an autonomous view of literacy as decontextualized skills that can be applied and transferred across learning sites. By contrast, some tutors chose to work with the existing repertoires that students brought with them, and to use them as a context for developing a critical awareness of what is involved in writing. At one college, the lecturer encouraged students to bring aspects of their everyday lives into class. For example, she allowed them to play music of their own choice as they worked, and one of the presentations she

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asked them to do was on a subject of their choice which related to their outside interests. This proved to be a good starting point for students to consider the nature of their audience, and clear and attractive ways of presenting material. There was a marked difference between the levels of programmes in the range of literacy practices with which students were expected to engage. This was consistent across all colleges. At the lower levels the college-based researchers built the types of reading and writing which might be used in nurseries and preschool centres into their courses. For example, students were asked to design posters and displays, often in themselves about words, letters and numbers. The college domain therefore anticipated the demands of the projected workplace. Not only were there more practical activities at the lower levels (which might be expected), but perhaps more surprisingly there was also a greater variety of literacy demands. The lecturers’ reasons for adopting this variety were to engage the students in a positive way, to keep them interested in the subject and help them to integrate learning, assessment and the world of childcare. In other words, the lower the level of unit the more diverse the literacy demands made upon students, while the higher the unit level, the more narrowly focused the literacy demands. While variety was seen by the tutors as a motivating force for students, the complexities of developing such diverse literacy practices were not always addressed. In terms of their literacy careers, students were receiving inconsistent messages about what the appropriate forms of writing were. Thus, while the mobility and multiplicity of literacy practices was apparent at lower levels, this increased the complexity the students encountered. Nevertheless, when literacy practices had clear purpose, relevance and authenticity either for their future roles as childcare professionals or for learning, the students didn’t treat them as ‘reading’ or ‘writing’, but as part and parcel of what they were doing. It would seem logical for students’ literacy careers to increase in diversity and complexity as they progress educationally. Starting with the more practical workplaced activities, more academic literacies would be gradually introduced on top of the developing practical and occupational literacies. The research revealed much greater variety from a literacy perspective on lower-level courses than on higherlevel courses. As a result the lower-level students’ literacy careers may be diverse and possibly fragmented, whereas the higher-level students are focused on developing a narrow range of reading and writing, usually associated with educational rather than occupational progression. This does not mean that teachers should limit their curriculum, but that the relevance of literacy practices to students’ futures, and the additional requirements they are placing on students need to be taken into account. Despite Childcare courses being designed to help students to encourage children to learn through play, these practical literacy practices disappeared from the programmes at the higher levels. As the students proceeded through the levels, the variety of texts that they had to read and write diminished. Students at the higher level expected to be reading and writing fewer texts using visual as well as verbal modes of communication. They associated reading magazines and children’s books, and designing posters and leaflets with the lower levels of courses and positioned them as ‘childlike’ or ‘fun’.

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At the higher levels students received a more consistent message about appropriate forms of reading and writing which related to progressing to higher education. There was thus greater consistency in the literacy careers they were being required to develop. This is not to say that students at the higher levels had fewer literacy challenges. They faced different demands with an increased textualization of assessment based upon more extended academic reading and writing rather than work-related activities. The literacy demands of assessment were often additional to any literacy practices that students needed to develop within the workplace, as there was an anticipation of the demands to be faced by students in progressing educationally rather than entering the workplace. These differences in literacy demands between lower and higher level courses were noticed in all four colleges in Scotland and England. Although there were specific characteristics to each course, these were determined more by the specific content of the course and the lecturers’ individual dispositions than by the policy contexts within which they were operating. Childcare courses often also involve placements in work. Placements have particular literacy practices associated with them compared with other curriculum areas, as the job itself includes providing the children with opportunities for the emergence of literacy. In addition to bureaucratic uses of literacy similar to those in any workplace, such as keeping timesheets, updating records and communicating with colleagues, it is part of the job for Childcare workers to engage in reading and writing activities with young children, and to create a literacy-rich environment for them. One important aspect of Childcare work placements was child observations. One English student disliked these more than any other aspect of the course, describing them as ‘boring’. It became clear that what she found boring was not observing the child, but writing up the observation. She said, ‘You have to do twenty and it takes ages to write them up’. This is a case of the literacy practice becoming a demand on top of the task itself. Students of Childcare were also required to mediate between their work placements and their college-based courses through the maintenance of a logbook. While all the students valued the actual placement experience, writing the logbook was seen as a chore by many of them, partly because it consisted of completing proformas. These logbooks differed in format across the qualification bodies but their function was essentially the same. Within the placement, each student was expected to undertake a variety of tasks which covered the range of activities he/she would be expected to meet in a childcare setting. The logbooks were designed to provide opportunities for students to capture this experience: to record what had taken place and to reflect on their own development during placement. For many of the students recording of the activities presented few problems. However, the reflective element caused considerable challenges, as it consisted in moving from a descriptive mode of writing to an analytical mode, a particular genre of writing with which many students were unfamiliar. Thus, the modes and technologies, the genre, and the associated conventions of style and design of the logbooks were not supportive of their purpose.

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In Scotland, the logbook consisted of 50 planned learning experiences (PLEs), 20 observations and 10 reports. Some of the students talked about completing five or more proformas at one time. The physical space of the box in the proforma limited the amount of writing the students undertook, which is in tension with the purpose of writing reflectively which entails more extended text based upon personal learning. These logbooks were designed to be read by the placement staff and/or the college tutor as audiences and then discussed with the student: a participation structure which might have made this a valuable literacy practice. However, all the project students reported that this discussion happened infrequently and, when it did, it covered a number of proformas at one time. It therefore seemed to the students that these documents served no real purpose. Students often repeated similar phrases each week. One student wrote in over half of her PLEs ‘I think my organizational skills could be improved’. She did not refer to her previous notes citing this as a problem, nor did she reflect on how this could be improved. The lecturers commented on the entries lacking a reflective quality, but the support that was offered to students was not having the desired effect. The lecturers thought that as long as the students had a good vocabulary and learnt to write extended text and to spell correctly, they would be able to write reflectively. This skill-based approach to the teaching of writing was inadequate since it did not address key aspects which are entailed in the literacy practice of writing reflective documents such as purpose, audience, processes, content and flexibility and constraints. In particular, both lecturers and students needed a more explicit understanding of what is involved in adopting the roles, identities and values associated with being a reflective practitioner.

Inferences In comparing literacies for learning on Childcare units in four colleges in two countries, there would appear to be more similarities than differences in the literacy practices. Indeed the differences may be as significant within countries as between them, in particular in England where different awarding bodies provide different curriculum contexts within which to operate. As shown in this chapter, there were significant differences between lower and higher level units; other differences appeared to be as much to do with the pedagogic stance of the tutor as any other factor (see Miller & Satchwell, 2006). In our study of Childcare courses, we noted a significant tension between educational imperatives and occupational imperatives in terms of literacy practices, types of texts and types of engagement with texts required by students, especially as they progress to higher levels (Edwards & Miller, 2008). This raises the most fundamental of questions. If Childcare is to enable students to progress in both directions, then the curriculum expectations and pedagogic practices of courses will need to address the issues around what is valued as literacy, and what resources are necessary for preparing students for participation in an increasingly multimodal and

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multimediated world. The research has shown first that, at present, literacy tends to be too narrowly defined, with the literacy practices of practical activities and the workplace going largely unrecognized. Second, it shows that students and lecturers respond well to suggestions for more detailed attention to the different aspects of literacy practices to be incorporated in the enactment of the curriculum, in order to make more explicit the connections to the students’ intended occupation and to their academic development. From an analysis of the data from the project, we identified nine aspects of a literacy practice that lecturers and students can consider when trying to develop literacy careers (Fig. 12.1). When linked to students’ everyday literacy practices, the use of this framework by lecturers in the project produced beneficial learning outcomes for the students participating. These everyday practices tended to be

Who?

Why?

purposeful to the student, oriented to a clear audience, shared, i.e. interactive, participatory and collaborative, learned through participation, in tune with students’ values and identities, agentic, i.e. with the students having control, non-linear, i.e. with varied reading paths, specific to times and places, multimodal, i.e. combining symbols, pictures, colour, music, multimedia, i.e. combining paper and electronic media, varied; not repetitive, generative, i.e. involving meaning making, creativity and getting things done, self-determined in terms of activity, time and place.

What?

• • • • • • • • • • • • •

Aspects of a literacy event or practice

Fig. 12.1 Aspects of a literacy practice

content

purposes

Under what conditions?

languages, genres, styles & designs

flexibility + constraints

How?

modes + technologies

actions + processes

audiences

roles, identities + values

participation

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Innovation in pedagogy is possible based on the characteristics of everyday literacy practices and the manipulation of aspects of these practices to support the literacy and learning careers of students. The implication of the above is that lecturers and curriculum managers could benefit their students’ learning by paying more attention to the literacy practices of the workplace and those of everyday life. The research suggests that when aspects of these literacy practices are integrated into the enacted curriculum at all levels in ways that are consistent with the students’ projections in terms of future work and participation in rapidly changing working and social environments, students benefit. At the same time attention needs to be paid to the appropriateness of educational literacy practices, at every level, so that students can progress in their educational and occupational literacy careers without wasting time and effort on the sort of literacy practices that do not facilitate either. Many of the educational literacy practices around pedagogy and assessment were found to be not well aligned with those of the workplaces for which students were being prepared. Neither were they making good use of the range literacy practices which students were practicing in diverse areas of their everyday lives. The inference of this is that educators need to be aware of the changing semiotic environments in all aspects of students’ lives and consider how these can be drawn on in learning the curriculum, so that their educational practices are not outdated and inadequate in preparing students for their future working, educational and social lives. At the broader conceptual level, this study points to the centrality of semiotic practices to students’ learning careers, and suggests that greater pedagogical consideration of their literacy careers could enhance learning, not only in Childcare courses, but for all students. The literacy practices of their imagined futures need to be scaffolded and modelled. Literacies for learning, literacy careers are fostered not simply by focusing on the development of individual skills, but by increasing the meaningfulness of tasks to students, taking into account that many students are still exploring what they might do as well as seeking preparation and qualifications in a certain subject area. They are also fundamental to learning careers.

References Barton, D., & Hamilton, M. (1998). Local literacies: Reading and writing in one community. London: Routledge. Barton, D., Hamilton, M., & Ivanic, R. (Eds.). (2000). Situated literacies: Reading and writing in context. London: Routledge. Bloomer, M. (1997). Curriculum making in post-16 education. London: Routledge. Canning, R. (2007). Reconceptualising core skills. Journal of Education and Work, 20, 17–26. Colley, H., James, D., Tedder, M., & Diment, K. (2003). Learning as becoming in vocational education and training: Class, gender and the role of vocational habitus. Journal of Vocational Education and Training, 55, 471–498. Edwards, R., & Miller, K. (2008). Academic drift in vocational qualifications. Journal of Vocational Education & Training, 60, 123–131. Gee, J. (2003). What video games have to teach us about learning and literacy. London: Palgrave. Ivanic, R., Edwards, R., Barton, D., Martin-Jones, M., Fowler, Z., Hughes, B., et al. (2009). Improving learning in college: Rethinking literacies across the curriculum. London: Routledge.

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Kress, G. (2003). Literacy in the new media age. London: Routledge. Lankshear, C., & Knobel, M. (2003). New literacies: Changing knowledge and classroom learning. Buckingham: Open University Press. Miller, K., & Satchwell, C. (2006). The effect of beliefs about literacy on teacher and student expectations: A further education perspective. Journal of Vocational Education and Training, 58, 135–150. Plowman, L., & Stephen, C. (2005). Children, play and computers in pre-school education. British Journal of Educational Technology 36, 145–158.

Part IV

Looking Ahead

This is Blank Page Integra

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Chapter 13

Vocational Learning in the Frame of a Developing Identity John Guenther

Introduction The purpose of this chapter is to argue a case for the development of training programmes that deliberately build in identity formation into programme outcomes – rather than relying only on skill formation and/or job readiness. The premise for the argument arises from the author’s observations of learning programmes at a variety of levels over a number of years and as a direct consequence of findings of a major research project. The chapter first considers the literature relating to the outcomes of adult learning programmes and then goes on to review the linkages between learning and identity. A case study is used to highlight some of the findings from his research. Implications and conclusions are offered, which have particular relevance for those developing vocational learning policies and strategies, as well as training providers and practitioners.

Literature Review Vocational Learning Defined While we could define vocational learning in fairly narrow terms around what is sometimes described as the Technical and Vocational Education and Training (TVET) sector, I use the term ‘vocational learning’ in this chapter to encompass the wider sphere of adult learning that relates to learning that occurs in preparation for a vocation, in anticipation of a change in career, for re-entry into the workforce or as part of ongoing professional development. Stasz and Wright (2004) for example, writing within a UK context suggest the following definition:

J. Guenther (B) Cat Conatus, Ulverstone, TAS 7315, Australia e-mail: [email protected]

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Vocational learning can be defined as any activities and experiences that lead to understandings of and/or skills relevant to a range of (voluntary and paid) work environments. In Australia, the MCEETYA Framework for Vocational Education in Schools acknowledges that vocational learning should provide opportunity for students ‘to learn in workplace and community settings’ (DEEWR, 2007: Key element 2: Enterprise and vocational learning), though most states interpret the framework more in terms of work or employment than community (ACACA, 2008).

Successful Outcomes of Vocational Learning A scan of the literature on outcomes of vocational learning or training reveals a high concentration of results around the relationship between training and employment. And this, given the foregoing discussions of definitions, is perhaps not surprising. However, when the search goes deeper and considers what determines a successful outcome for various stakeholder groups a different picture emerges. For individuals success may be defined in terms of graduation, access to a job, satisfaction with what was learned, as well as other job-related benefits – and indeed this is how the National Centre for Vocational Education Research measures student outcomes (NCVER, 2007). For industry successful learning outcomes may be better described in terms of meeting the skill needs of businesses and enterprises, a view reflected by various industry groups (e.g. Australian Industry Group and The Allen Consulting Group, 2006; TAFE Directors Australia, 2007) or it may be about increasing productivity and workforce participation (e.g. Mitchell & McKenna, 2008). For communities a range of outcomes may reflect employment priorities but may also equally reflect social capital priorities relating to building trust, cooperative learning environments and enabling leadership (e.g. Guenther, Falk, Arnott, Lucardie, & Spiers, 2008b; Balatti & Falk, 2000; Falk & Smith, 2003). For governments as a major funder of training, the outcomes are likely to be related to their policy directions, for example transitioning people from welfare to work (Guenther, Falk, & Arnott, 2008a) or ensuring that skill gaps are filled (e.g. Richardson & Teese, 2006) or ensuring that young people move into an appropriate career (Curtis, 2008). Success for providers may be as much about service delivery, organizational efficiency and capacity as it is about outcomes for clients as employers and trainees (Maxwell, Noonan, Bahr, & Hardy, 2004). What this brief overview shows is that successful outcomes are not just about employment and skills. While the role of identity formation is not included in the above overview I return to it after a brief explanation of what is meant by the term ‘identity’.

Identity Identity can be thought of simply as an expression of ‘who I am’. But what shapes this ‘self’ comes from within – psychologically – and from those around

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us – sociologically and anthropologically. Erikson in Identity and the Life Cycle (Erikson, 1980) distinguishes between, ‘ego identity’, ‘personal identity’ and ‘group identity’. These three classifications roughly align with the psychological, sociological and anthropological views. In the case of ‘group identity’ for example historical and cultural roots are embedded in an individual’s identity. Writing in the 1950s, Erikson (1980, p. 20), illustrated the concept with an example from Sioux culture in which he notes that in such an identity, ‘the prehistoric past is a powerful psychological reality’. He describes the ‘ego identity’ as a learned sense of self that is ‘developing into a defined ego within a social reality’ (p. 22). The ‘personal identity’ then is more about an individual’s awareness of himself/herself and others’ view of his/her individuality or ‘selfsameness and continuity in time’ (p. 22). While Erikson’s work is formed on the basis of a psychoanalytic perspective, others have considered identity more from a sociological or anthropological perspective. For example, sociologist Berger (1963, p. 119) suggests that ‘the individual locates himself in society within systems of social control, and everyone of these contains an identity-generating apparatus’. Augoustinos and Walker (1995, p. 98) go as far as to say that ‘the notion of personal identity is a fiction – all identity, all forms of self construal, must be social’. Caution also needs to be taken when trying to overlay understanding of social or individual identity as it is constructed by psychologists or sociologists on top of particular cultural groups where identity may be perceived quite differently. For example in Australia, the term ‘Aboriginal identity’ should be interpreted from an Aboriginal perspective, which may relate more to a sense of ‘belonging to specific extended family groups’ (Bourke, 1998, p. 51) than to self or society. While acknowledging the contested nature of this field of study, there are of course several points of intersection among these perspectives. Elliott (2001), commenting on a sociological view of self-formation in relation to the impact of relationships with people, cultural norms and forms, states, Particularly for sociologists interested in the dynamics of interpersonal interaction, the self can be thought of as a central mechanism through which the individual and the social world intersect (p. 24).

Of particular relevance to this chapter is Erikson’s understanding that identity of individuals changes over the life cycle from childhood, through adolescence into adulthood. Further, the nature of one’s emerging identity is affected by any number of intersecting contributing factors, which include the role of ‘teachers, judges and psychiatrists’ in shaping a young person’s identity. The role of parents as important influencers of young people is of course tacitly included in this list. Erikson (1980) goes on to conclude that if a young person. . . is close to choosing a negative identity, that young person may well put his energy into becoming exactly what the careless and fearful community expects him to be – and make a total job of it (p. 175).

His point is that any number of interventions in a young person’s life can make a difference to this emerging identity and that if professional service providers are not careful, those who are tempted toward deviant or socially non-conforming behaviours may well draw on their experiences to reinforce these negative identities.

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Vocational Learning and Identity The outcomes and outputs of education and learning are seldom described as ‘successful’ in terms of identity formation. That is, the products of training programmes are more likely to be described in terms of what a person can do with his/her new skills and knowledge, as opposed to what he/she can become. The earlier discussion on ‘success’ in learning demonstrated that traditionally, successful learning has been related to outcomes such as employment, skills competence, academic achievement, satisfaction with training, work performance and completions. While these things are of some importance they largely ignore the influence learning has on personal and social identity. Clemans, Hartley, & Macrae (2003) identify a number of adult and community education outcomes, many of which are directly related to identity formation. They place these outcomes under the heading of ‘learning to be: growth in well-being and self-awareness’. They describe these in terms of selfconcept and community identity. Many of the outcomes related to self-concept are described as soft skills, generic, employability skills and more specifically in terms of self-esteem and self-confidence and sometimes in terms of basic literacy and numeracy (e.g. Brown, Hesketh, & Williams, 2003; The Allen Consulting Group, 2004; Curtin, 2004). However, much of the literature sees these employability skills in a fairly limited frame – one in which soft skills are a prerequisite to the ‘real’ learning that occurs in formal education. Billet and Somerville (2004, p. 324) contend that identity, work and learning are indeed an ‘under-appreciated and neglected focus for research, policy and practice in adult learning’. At this point it may be useful to introduce the term ‘identity capital’, which Schuller (in Schuller, Preston, Hammond, BrassettGrundy, & Bynner, 2004b) defines as ‘the characteristics of the individual that define his or her outlook and self-image’ (p. 20). Schuller’s understanding of identity capital is to some extent drawn from Côté’s work (e.g. Côté, 2005; Côté, 2001), which differentiates identity capital from other forms of capital such as human and social capital. While it may be helpful to see identity formation as a benefit or outcome of learning as Côté and others (e.g. Hammond, 2004) do, it is perhaps better to refer to identity as both an asset and an outcome – something that can be both drawn on and built. Schuller, Bynner, and Feinstein (2004a), for example describe the difference: Identity capital embodies or generates returns to the individual, though it is odd to express it in these terms. Self-confidence and self-efficacy are themselves positive assets, but also generate further positive returns because of the way they enable people to function effectively (pp. 15-16).

In other words, when a person engages in learning he or she brings an identity to his/her learning and this is built in the process of learning. Additionally a failure to attend to the individual’s identity capital may lead to short-term competence but may not lead to sustained changes in practices required for long term. Wenger (1998, p. 268) argues that Deep transformative experiences that involve new dimensions of identification and negotiability, new forms of membership, multi-membership and ownership of meaning. . . are

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likely to be more widely significant in terms of the long-term ramifications of learning than extensive coverage of a broad, but abstractly general, curriculum.

The danger is that where practices are embedded in culture and new ways of doing things are taught in order to transform those practices, in the short term conformance to competencies may be achieved; but in the longer term – because the culturally embedded practice is still retained – the individual may well revert to the way they know to be true from their culture. An example of this might be where violent offenders are taught new skills for anger management – and demonstrate that they can use those skills – without a changed identity. Ultimately, the violent behaviours will return in accordance with their enculturated understanding of how to behave. With this literature in mind, the chapter turns to findings from the author’s research, which more broadly considered the role of vocational education and training as a tool for regional planning and management in northern Australian communities.

Findings from Research About Effective Vocational Learning in Northern Australia The research project asked three questions: (1) What are the indicators of well-being across the northern Australian savanna? (2) What is the link between education and learning and capacity-building in savanna communities? and (3) How can education and learning be applied effectively to produce capacity-building outcomes? Using a mixed-methods design, the project began with a statistical assessment of well-being in the northern Australian savanna to answer the first question. This was used as a basis for site selection of four case studies of the effective application of TVET. Three were in the Northern Territory and one was in the State of Queensland. Qualitative data from the cases was analysed using NVivo software to answer the second and third questions and to build a theoretical framework. The findings and discussion presented in this chapter represent a small part of the overall research project. The data used for the research was 103 interviews with 132 respondents, who described 114 discrete training programmes. Respondents were a mix of providers, trainees, industry representatives, government and community stakeholders. Respondents were asked to describe a programme that they considered ‘effective’ and to then explain why they thought so. Out of these interviews a total of 1015 responses were identified that related directly to ‘effective’ programmes. These responses are essentially key extracts from the respondents’ descriptions of effective programmes, coded using NVivoTM and quantized using MS AccessTM , according to one of the six categories: needs; motivators; enablers; delivery aspects; identity aspects; and outcomes. A summary of the 1015 responses is shown in Fig. 13.1. The chart shows that the largest group of responses (24.2 per cent of all responses) related to delivery aspects of training. This

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Fig. 13.1 How respondents perceived key ingredients of effective training programs (n = 1015, multiple responses allowed)

was followed by identity aspects (21.8 per cent); enablers (17.0 per cent); motivators (15.4 per cent); outcomes (14.5 per cent); and needs (7.1 per cent). While the relative strength of perceived effectiveness in terms of ‘delivery aspects’ (which related to content, qualification, delivery and the trainer) may not be surprising, what did come as somewhat of a surprise (given the literature on vocational learning for job outcomes) was the relative strength of the responses related to identity aspects of the training. That is, there were more responses in the interview data that related to effectiveness being related to identity than there were related to outcomes. For example respondents were more likely to suggest that training was effective because of what it did for their self-esteem, awareness of options and selfconfidence, than what it enabled them to achieve in terms of job-related outcomes. In other words, respondents in this research felt that identity aspects of training were more important than what the training actually led them to be able to do. The following case study is designed to illustrate in some detail the extent to which identity contributes to the perceived effectiveness of training. It is just one example of many that shows this.

Case Study: ‘Planning Your Career’ Mining communities in Australia are focused on extracting minerals from the ground. Some communities are fly-in fly-out sites – shift workers only live in town while they are on a shift roster and then fly ‘home’ to where their family lives. Other

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communities are largely residential in nature – workers live in purpose-built towns and their families live with them there. This case study draws on research conducted in one such town in central Queensland. To a large extent mines that support such communities depend on a range of specific trade skills to operate and maintain machinery required for the work. Traditionally in Australia these skills are held by males. While the patterns of employment are gradually changing, females in these communities –many of which are relatively remote – are either not employed or employed part time in a small number of administrative, retail or financial support roles. Many women have a primary role in parenting children and many are actively engaged in community service work. Many are looking for opportunities to gain employment or build skills so that when they eventually return to an urban environment or their children ‘move on’ to further education or employment elsewhere, they have an opportunity to build their own career. In one community an adult learning centre was set up and funded jointly by the mining company and the state education department to assist such women. The centre hosted a number of courses for a variety of purposes. One was called ‘Planning your career’. As part of the research, the coordinator was interviewed and asked questions about ‘what makes the training effective?’ Her responses are shown in an edited version of the transcript, in Table 13.1, below. Several observations can be made from this extract. First, the number of identity aspects recorded is clearly larger than the number of outcomes noted. Second, the progressive identity change from migrant or single parent to skilled parent and contributing community member is woven into the respondent’s commentary. Third, the range of identities noted is not restricted to workplace identities – rather, the identities are related to family life, community life and life in the workplace.

Discussion While it is fair to conclude from the findings of the research described briefly above that identity formation is an important product of vocational learning, does this necessarily have any implications for adult learning practitioners? Should curricula be designed with identity formation in mind? A response to this might surely be, ‘OK, training does produce identity changes in learners but that shouldn’t derail us from focusing our attention away from skills formation’. In response to this critique of the arguments presented it may be worthwhile returning to the literature for a moment. Erikson’s (1980) argument that a failure to pay attention to identity, particularly in young people, could have negative consequences for them and ultimately for society is particularly pertinent here. If we see training as a vehicle to produce skills necessary for industry (as much of the literature seems to suggest) then we miss the point that training is about developing the capacity of people, who have – as the case study highlighted – multiple identities (at home, in the community and at work). Further, if identity change is viewed

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Table 13.1 Examples from transcript that show identity aspects and outcomes as a result of ‘Planning your career’ Transcript extract It’s a long-term programme it goes on for 9 months. There are fifteen participants it’s all free for them. There are ladies whose husbands are working 7-day rosters; there are ladies who are single parents. We have a Russian lady. We have a lady from Switzerland who hasn’t been in town for very long. And I can just see their increase in self-confidence and skills is amazing. I sat in and did some interviews with them, pretend interviews with them, couldn’t believe that they were the same people that I had actually inducted into the course 3 months prior. It was just amazing and obviously it’s a course that’s been tried and true because it’s been around for a long time but it’s one that I can say has benefited people from [this community]. I can see that all individuals, participants, trainees and the community would benefit from more training. Obviously the individuals benefit because it can then improve their ability, self-esteem particularly which we’re seeing with planning your career course, ladies that have been out of the workforce for some time just reinforcing computer skills and growing in self-confidence. They are also helping their children when they go home with their training. So the kids are also – there’s a bit of a flow-on effect there – getting a bit more. Probably the kids are teaching their mums but it benefits the whole of the community because people like that feel more confident in taking roles as the secretary, treasurer, for the local soccer club or the swimming club or whatever. So I can see it as adult training and here computer training has a flow-on effect. We’re also covering a bit in the planning your career course about being self-employed. So it teaches the girls, ‘Well, why can’t I open a shop, why can’t I open a business?’, ‘Why can’t I actually provide some training to someone else? Then I can take on a trainee’. So obviously that’s increasing [the mining company’s] productivity and generally [giving] back to the community again. So I think adult training here is providing a big service.

Identity aspects and outcomes identified Trainees’ identities as migrants, single parents and stay-at-home wives noted. Trainer observes change in self-concept. Trainer observed change in personal identity.

Trainer perceives increase in self-efficacy/capacity and self-esteem Observes increased self-confidence. This leads to identity changes as a parent and greater capacity. Outcome noted in terms of engagement in community groups but it is because of their confidence. Potential outcome: self-employment. Potential return (outcome) for mining company identified.

as a lifelong process that is affected by a combination of transitions through crises, events, experiences, rites of passage, role changes, social enculturation and acculturation processes, which may be ‘constructed’ or ‘discovered’ (Côté, 1996) through any number of interactions, then the training experience of an individual is only one contributor to that process.

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If, as the research findings presented here suggest, identity (trans)formation is an important product of effective training then one of the implications is that, in order to be most valuable, training practices and delivery methods ought to build in strategies that will lead to a reconstruction of an individual’s identity – or at least a challenge to an individual’s pre-existing identity. It is not enough to assume that embedded generic skills included in a vocational training programme will achieve this kind of change. Rather, training and learning approaches that encourage both independent choice, contribute to individual self concept and interdependent ‘contributors to civil society, both locally and globally’ (Côté, 2005), thereby contributing to a collective identity. Further, if identity change is important for the adoption and acceptance of new and better ways of doing things then this strengthens the argument for building or rebuilding an individual’s identity. Failure to attend to identity transformation in some situations will result in short-term compliant competence but soon result in a reversion to old practices as a result of the strength of the individual’s alignment to a pre-existing cultural and social identity. A second implication that emerges relates to the understanding of learners’ identities by training providers as they enter the training experience. The result of not doing this is seen in many one-size-fits-all training initiatives where, for example, unemployed people are expected to transition into work by participating in a training programme. The learning that has arisen out of Australia’s Welfare to Work strategy (see for example Guenther et al., 2008a), suggests that training which addresses the complexities of an individual’s identity and at the same time offers additional support outside of the training environment, is more likely to work than when that complexity is not taken into account. Again in this situation the focus cannot simply be on building skills in an individual but must incorporate a range of personal and social interactions that engender a response in the learner, which says ‘not only can I do, but I can also be’. Taking this idea a step further, a third implication has more relevance for those providers who are working in cross-cultural contexts. In such instances, the onus is on the trainer to first understand the learner’s worldview, which is intertwined with the learner’s individual and cultural identity. Among the barriers that the trainer needs to come to terms with are the learner’s language, his enculturated values, his spirituality and his knowledge of what is right and wrong. Too often, the expectation in mainstream training is that the learner must make the effort to bridge this gap, but if providers are to take the importance of identity formation in training seriously, then surely it should be the other way round. Of course there are time and cost implications of providing training in this way. And often the government-led policy, which drives service provision, does not take this fully into account. Having put these propositions, the challenge now may be to test them with intentional development of programmes in a variety of contexts, to determine (a) how a training programme might differ if identity (trans)formation was an intentional part of the learning process; and (b) whether or not it is more effective than training conducted with skills and knowledge formation as the primary goal. Testing these propositions would require an evaluation framework that first identified a common set of effectiveness measures (initially for participants but later perhaps also for

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other stakeholders). It would then require some careful curriculum development around existing training programmes. Then the training would need to be delivered using both the skills formation and identity formation modes, to similar groups of people. Evaluation of the two programmes could then follow.

Conclusions The focus of vocational learning in Australia has clearly been on skill development with an emphasis on skills for jobs. The literature does not always show these kinds of outcomes are the product of effective training programmes and indeed there is some evidence that employability or ‘soft’ skills are important too. However, with a small number of exceptions, the literature seldom considers the role that identity plays in learning. The research on which this chapter is based shows that, for the 132 stakeholders surveyed, identity aspects of learning were more important than other outcomes, which were mainly related to jobs. What this may suggest is that training focused on skill development alone may be falling short of what learners really need – support for a transitioning identity. Therefore what could be required to meet that need is training delivery approaches that build in identity forming processes, supporting learning that encourages independent choice as well as interdependent contribution to the social and cultural sphere of learners’ lives. Further, delivery that fails to take into account the complexities of individual learners’ identities will undoubtedly be less effective than training that does. In addition, and of particular importance to cross-cultural contexts, the implication of this research may be that trainers may need to gain a deeper understanding of learners’ social and cultural identities – creating the bridge between identities, instead of expecting learners to do this. To test the propositions put in this chapter, it is proposed that two similar training programmes be delivered, one with a focus on identity and the other with a focus on skills and knowledge, and then evaluated.

References ACACA. (2008). Changing schools in Australia. Australian curriculum assessment & certification authorities. Retrieved January 2008, from http://acaca.bos.nsw.edu.au/go/ Augoustinos, M., & Walker, I. (1995). Social cognition: An integrated introduction. London: Sage. Australian Industry Group & The Allen Consulting Group. (2006). World class skills for world class industries: Employers’ perspectives on skilling in Australia. North Sydney: The Australian Industry Group. Balatti, J., & Falk, I. (2000). Community capacity and vocational education and training. Launceston: University of Tasmania. Berger, P. (1963). Invitation to sociology: A humanistic perspective. London: Penguin. Billett, S., & Somerville, M. (2004). Transformations at work: Identity and learning. Studies in Continuing Education, 26, 309–326. Bourke, E. (1998). Australia’s first peoples: Identity and population. In C. Bourke, E. Bourke, & Edwards, B (Eds.), Aboriginal Australia (2nd ed.) (pp. 38–55). Brisbane: University of Queensland Press.

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Brown, P., Hesketh, A., & Williams, S. (2003). Employability in a knowledge-driven economy [1]. Journal of Education and Work, 16, 107–126. Clemans, A., Hartley, R., & Macrae, H. (2003). ACE outcomes. Adelaide: National Centre for Vocational Education Research. Côté, J. (1996). Sociological perspectives on identity formation: The culture-identity link and identity capital. Journal of Adolescence, 19, 417–428. Côté, S. (2001). The contribution of human and social capital. Isuma (Canadian Journal of Policy Research), 2, 29–36. Côté, J. (2005). Identity capital, social capital and the wider benefits of learning: Generating resources facilitative of social cohesion. London Review of Education, 3, 221–237. Curtin, P. (2004). Employability skills for the future. In J. Gibb (Ed.), Generic skills in vocational education and training (pp. 38–52). Adelaide: National Centre for Vocational Educational Research. Curtis, D. (2008). VET pathways taken by school leavers, Camberwell, Australian Council for Educational Research. Retrieved October 2008, from http://www.acer.edu.au/documents/ LSAY_lsay52.pdf DEEWR. (2007). MCEETYA framework for vocational education in schools. Department of Education, Employment and Workplace Relations. Retrieved January 2008, from http:// www.dest.gov.au/sectors/school_education/policy_initiatives_reviews/key_issues/vocational_ education_in_schools/mceetya_framework/mceetya_element_2.htm?wbc_purpose=basic% 23%23%23. Elliott, A. (2001). Concepts of the self (key concepts). Cambridge: Polity Press. Erikson, E. (1980). Identity and the life cycle. New York: W. W. Norton and Co. Falk, I., & Smith, T. (2003). Leadership in vocational education and training: Leadership by design, not by default. Adelaide: National Centre for Vocational Education Research. Guenther, J., Falk, I., & Arnott, A. (2008a). The role of vocational education and training in welfare to work. Adelaide: National Centre for Vocational Education Research. Guenther, J., Falk, I., Arnott, A., Lucardie, D., & Spiers, H. (2008b). Examining learning partnerships in Northern Australia. Adelaide: National Centre for Vocational Education Research. Hammond, C. (2004). The impacts of learning on well-being, mental health and effective coping. In T. Schuller, J. Preston, C. B.-G. A. Hammond, & Bynner, J (Eds.), The benefits of learning: The impact of education on health, family life and social capital (pp. 37–56). Abingdon: RoutledgeFalmer. Maxwell, G., Noonan, P., Bahr, M., & Hardy, I. (2004). Managing better measuring institutional health and effectiveness in vocational education and training. Adelaide: National Centre for Vocational Education Research. Mitchell, J., & McKenna, S. (2008). Productivity and participation enhanced by VET. Elizabeth: Reframing the Future. NCVER. (2007). Australian vocational education and training statistics, Student outcomes 2007. Adelaide: National Centre for Vocational Education Research. Richardson, S., & Teese, R. (2006). A well-skilled future: Tailoring VET to the emerging labour market. Adelaide: National Centre for Vocational Education Research. Retrieved October 2008, from http://www.ncver.edu.au/research/proj/nr4022/Richardson_ConsortiumOverview.pdf Schuller, T., Bynner, J., & Feinstein, L. (2004a). Capitals and capabilities. Centre for Research on the Wider Benefits of Learning. Retrieved February 2007, from http://www.learningbenefits. net/Publications/DiscussionPapers/CapsCaps.pdf Schuller, T., Preston, J., Hammond, C., Brassett-Grundy, A. B.-G. A., & Bynner, J. (2004b). The benefits of learning: The impact of education on health, family life and social capital. Abingdon: RoutledgeFalmer. Stasz, C., & Wright, S. (2004). Emerging policy for vocational learning in England. Will it lead to a better system? London: Learning and Skills Research Centre. Retrieved January 2008, from http://www.skope.ox.ac.uk/WorkingPapers/041657.pdf

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TAFE Directors Australia. (2007). Investing in productivity! Engaging TAFE to accelerate workforce development and job participation. Phillip, ACT: TAFE Directors Australia. The Allen Consulting Group. (2004). Employability skills: Development of a strategy to support the universal recognition and recording of employability skills–A skills portfolio approach. Department of Education Science and Training. Canberra, Retrieved May 2011, from http://www.deewr.gov.au/Schooling/CareersandTransitions/EmployabilitySkills/ Documents/FinalReportAllenConsulting.pdf Wenger, E. (1998). Communities of practice. Learning, meaning and identity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Chapter 14

Mature Adult Learning and Employment Ralph Catts

Introduction For much of the second half of the twentieth century, developed nations have focused on youth for new entrants into the labour market, supplemented by immigrant labour. With a change in demographics resulting from low birth rates in most western democracies, there are now fewer young people entering the labour force. For instance, in Scotland in 2008 there were 65,000 people aged 18 and there will be 54,000 in 2018. The implications are that economic growth will be reduced unless another source of labour can be located and this situation has been commented upon at international levels (OECD, 2006). Hence, maintaining or enabling mature adult employment is not only of critical concern to the well-being of mature workers but also for growth in national economies. With a smaller number entering the workforce from school and college, an increase in the number of mature workers remaining in the workforce, or rejoining the workforce has been identified as crucial to economic growth in all western economies. In most developed economies a substantial number of mature adults are not in employment for many and diverse reasons. Most nations have initiated efforts to engage unemployed mature adults. For example, in Australia this need was identified by government which moved to require long-term unemployed people on benefits to undertake training (Australian Government, 2002). These retraining programmes focus on numeracy, literacy and especially skills in using information technology. One approach to reskilling the workforce is to offer government funds to support mature adults in employment to acquire new skills. This was the thrust of a programme called ‘Skills for Life’ in England which sought to improve adult basic skills with workplace provision. Although this is laudable, and according to Evans, Waite, and Ananiadou (2005) has had success, this widens the gap between the skills of people in employment and those people who are unemployed. While R. Catts (B) School of Education, University of Stirling, Stirling, FK9 4LA, Scotland, UK e-mail: [email protected]

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the credit crunch of 2008–2009 has halted economic growth and led to high levels of unemployment, recovery will depend upon the availability of additional skilled workers. The number of young people entering the labour market will not replace those leaving the labour market and hence another source of labour is required. The options are further migrants to join the workforce or encouraging unemployed mature adults to enter the labour market. Government labour and welfare policies for much of the twentieth century together with congruent social norms and values have meant that mature adults have previously not been encouraged to rejoin the workforce. Public resources have been focused on supporting young people to make the transition into training and skilled jobs. Young men, especially from disadvantaged backgrounds, tend to leave school early and not engage in post-compulsory education or training. Young women from disadvantaged and minority backgrounds also tend to leave school early, taking semi-skilled jobs or caring roles within the family, and then spending decades as carers of both children and elderly relatives. This was the norm in the past for people who are now mature unemployed adults. These people become long-term unemployed mature adults (OECD, 2008, p. 97). For mature women their roles as carers cease when relatives die or dependents leave home. Mature unskilled men become redundant as technology changes lead to demands for higher skills, or when occupational illness or injury mean they are no longer able to work in physically demanding jobs. Previously there had been limited provision for them to re-enter paid employment. In the last quarter of the twentieth century there were moves to change this situation, and consequently many unemployed mature adults now find that a change in government policy is forcing them to undertake training and to seek employment. The consequences are evident in labour force data in all developed economies. For instance, in Australia the proportion of males not in the labour force ranged from 8 per cent to 12 per cent for those aged 25–54 years, but increased to 25 per cent for those aged 55–59, to nearly 50 per cent for those aged 60–64 (ABS, 2003). More than three quarters of women aged 25–54 are in the workforce. However, as with men those no longer in the workforce doubles between 55 and 59 to about 50 per cent, and increases to over 75 per cent of those aged 60–64. This means that for those unemployed adults aged over 55 there is very limited access to workplaces, and hence to workplace training. Previous government policies have not actively encouraged mature adults to return to paid work, in part because in times of economic downturn there is priority for young people who are unable to make the transition from education to employment, but also in part because older people are seen as less able to learn new skills and less desirable as employees. Despite age now being included in anti-discrimination legislation in the UK and other countries, discrimination in employment is still evident. However, increasingly various governments are seeking to encourage mature unemployed people to return to employment through further training. For instance, in the UK the government published a green paper entitled ‘The Learning Age’ (DFEE, 1998) and this was followed by the Leitch Review (2006), which urged ambitious targets for employability, including for mature-age adults. Consequently training for people over 50 is focused on gaining

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new vocational skills as well as new job-seeking skills (DWP, 2009). Likewise, in Australia people over 50 may immediately volunteer for an intensive job search scheme (OECD, 2007, p. 79). Some, but not all, OECD countries make special provision for mature workers, but define different age ranges. For instance Denmark focuses on people over the age of 60, while New Zealand targets people aged 45–49 (OECD, 2007). All however focus on addressing a deficit model in which the ‘older worker’ is considered particularly disadvantaged by low prior education, redundant skills and age discrimination, and hence in need of intensive support. For both those mature adults still in employment, and especially for those who have been long-term unemployed, further education is a necessity to maintain and enhance both skills and the personal capacities needed for employment. However, participation in continuing education declines with age, and especially for those over 45 years as has been noted in many national statistical collections. This has been identified as an issue related to continued employment by several commentators (e.g. Schmidt, 2008). In this chapter, evidence about how to support mature adults to re-enter training and the workforce is presented and the implications explored using the lens of social capital.

Defining ‘Mature Adults’ In order to articulate the learning needs of unemployed mature adults it is necessary to first clarify who is included in this life stage. Various writers agree that reliance on a chronological age is an insufficient basis for defining this stage of life. Clayton (2007, p. 8) suggests that distinguishing life stages is a conceptual tool, and argues that people in the mature adult stage may be as old as 85 if one includes those who are active in retirement. I suggest that it is more helpful to differentiate between people who are potentially still available for full-time work from those who governments no longer expect to be actively looking for paid employment. A small proportion of people continue in paid employment beyond 65, and some politicians and others advocate changes in government policies to enable these people to work without loss of pension and other benefits (Kramer & DePryck, 2008). However, under current policies 65 is a suitable upper limit for the mature adult group. This fits with national statistical collections that usually differentiate between people below the age of 65 and those who are 65 or older. People may enter into a mature adult lifestyle as young as 35, as is the case where there is inter-generational teenage pregnancies leading to people becoming grandparents in their mid-30s. However, it is more common for the mature adult age group to be considered as those aged 45 or older. As noted above, government statistics in Australia show that participation in the workforce, especially for unskilled males, declines markedly from 45, and beyond 50 people who become unemployed are less likely to re-enter the workforce, other than in marginal casual and low-paid jobs. In the UK recent reports have highlighted that older workers who are from ethnic minorities or are disabled are most at risk (Leitch Review, 2006, p. 31).

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In terms of family context, mature adults are at a stage when one’s own parents may well still be alive but possibly more dependent, and when those with children will be meeting with them as young adults. Some people will have been divorced and many of these may have entered a second or third relationship, possibly with additional younger children. They will thus have some of the burdens of responsibility for raising young families, although for most this would be a young-adult experience. Hence the chronological ages of mature adults and young adults may well overlap since some people defer their first family until mid-to-late-30s, while others in this age range may well be starting a second family, or in some cases become grandparents. The lower age range for inclusion in the mature adult category could therefore admit some people in their mid-30s, although more commonly mid-40s would seem to be the likely age for entry into this stage of life. As personal circumstances vary it is necessary to define mature-age adults as fitting at least some of the following profile dimensions, in order to differentiate such people from both the young adult group and the active older adult group. The dimensions proposed therefore are age range, family context and life stage. The age range for mature adults is defined normally as from 45 to 65, but with some people as young as 35 who are seeking to re-enter the labour force, and others up to 75 years of age, still active in the labour force. The family circumstances will vary from those who have never married, those within a long-term relationship, and those in a subsequent relationship. What defines the family context is that people have awareness of both the needs of an older generation (their parents) and also the awareness that they no longer can ‘keep up’ with the younger generation, in terms of physical effort including most sports. In terms of the older generation they are facing the consequences for their lives of the current or pending fallibility of the health of their parents. They also are likely to have children or other relatives in the next generation reaching young adulthood. It is the training needs of this group which is the focus of the research on which this chapter is based. In terms of working life, those who are unemployed may have experienced traumatic disruptions in work, family or health. They may also be encountering difficulties in access to the labour market and may consider themselves, and be considered by others, to be more or less unemployable.

The Issues Mature adults, who are considered as long-term unemployed, can be broadly classified into three categories (Gelade, Catts, & Gerber, 2003). First there are those who have been long-term unpaid carers who either by dint of public policies, through family break-up, or by choice seek to enter the workforce. These people are predominantly women and some may have never worked, having moved directly from education to parenthood, or to caring for aged parents. Others are seeking to reenter the workforce after 5–25 years in carer roles. They include some women in their mid-30s while others may be in their early-to-mid-50s. The second group are

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people who seek to re-enter the workforce through rehabilitation after physical or mental illness or physical trauma. A majority of those in rehabilitation are males and many had previously worked in physically demanding roles. Those with mental health problems may have had frequent loss of employment due to recurrence of their health problems, and may lack the confidence to seek employment because they fear another relapse and the consequences. For some in this category an opportunity to become a volunteer is an important progression toward re-engagement with economic and social activities. The final group are retrenched workers who often have suffered a loss of self-esteem through becoming redundant and discovering that their skill sets are out of date. Some of these people were unaware that their skills were out of date when they left their previous employment and for these people the experience of unemployment is aggravated by a loss of self-esteem as they encounter numerous rejections in their search for a job. Of the three groups, the retrenched older worker is often the most challenging with whom to work because they have, in their view, lost their social identity and resent the thought that re-entry to work will involve confirmation of a loss of status. Their retrenchment can often be characterized as either ‘voluntary redundancy’ or ‘early retirement’. Especially in times of economic downturn ‘voluntary’ or compulsory redundancy can affect a significant portion of the population, and especially mature adults including increasingly women. As Schuller (1997) has noted a return to a full-time position is rarely possible without substantial intervention. Many retrenched workers see enforced retirement from the workforce as a loss, because their negative perspective leads them to be less likely to take part in further education (Schmidt, 2008).

Theoretical Perspectives The notion of being unemployable has typically been considered by governments to be explained by a skills deficit, and has been addressed by proposing competencybased training including the development of information communication technology (ICT) skills (Hancock, 2006). An alternative view is to consider that all unemployed people have capacities and potential for employment which need to be recognized and utilized to foster personal development. These capacities may include competencies in generic skills such as team work, communication skills and problem solving as well as more specific vocational skills. If one defines employability as a psychosocial multivariate construct, then human capital (skills) can be considered as just one of several necessary components required to achieve high employability potential at any age (Fugate et al., 2004). The other components of the construct include individual psychological capacity (self-concept and flexibility), and the locus of career identity (whether the person perceives himself/herself as tied to a firm); and various dimensions of social capital. These latter dimensions have been found to include social support (bonded social capital), and access to networks (McArdle, Waters, Briscoe, & Hall, 2007). ‘Structural and personal factors interact and interrelate, making the search for a single or primary exclusionary factor an

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illusory one. Some non-participants actively chose not to return to learn’, as pointed out by Crossan, Field, Gallacher, and Merrill (2000). Studies in neuropsychology have identified the necessity for people to receive social feedback in order for learning to inform real world functioning (ImmordinoYang & Damasio, 2007). People who live isolated lives due to poverty that has arisen due to traumatic life events, such as divorce or redundancy, lose most or all their social networks and hence lack access to social feedback that can help them relate their informal learning to employment skills. They are unlike people in communities with inter-generational poverty, where coping mechanisms are based around the norm of ‘we look after our own’. The importance of employment and income for well-being is increasingly recognized as important for preventative medicine with the result that in impoverished communities, health services may offer adult education (Government Office for Science, 2008, p. 186).

Research The data which has been re-examined for this chapter was collected in response to a commission from the Australian Government to inform policy and programmes designed to improve the labour market participation of long-term unemployed people aged 45–65. The project was undertaken in four stages which have been described in the project report (Gelade et al., 2003, pp. 33–43). In summary training providers were identified from a range of sources including the National Training Information Service (which recorded registered training providers across Australia), Adult Learning Australia (the peak adult education professional body), the Commonwealth Rehabilitation Service, and Job Network providers. A stratified random sample of 1,204 providers was selected. The sample was boosted for smaller states and to ensure there were sufficient large providers (TAFE Colleges) as opposed to the more numerous smaller community and private providers. In order to be inclusive a national advertisement was placed inviting parties to respond but this did not result in any additional submissions. Parties were asked to respond only if they had programmes which aimed to serve primarily people aged over 45 in return-to-work initiatives. A preliminary survey sought information on the provision and evidence of good outcomes in terms of further education, employment or volunteering. Of the full sample, a total of 476 were contacted by phone, and if not available then by email to invite their responses. Many of the providers contacted indicated that they did not have specific programmes for mature adults, which is not necessarily surprising because up until that stage this cohort had not been a priority for government-funded training, other than in the case of rehabilitation training. There were 93 returns received in the initial 3 weeks from providers with programmes for mature adults, and because of timing constraints the sample for follow-up was drawn from these respondents. A total of 41 sites was selected for follow-up in-depth telephone interviews to gather detailed information on programmes and evidence of success. The selection was again based

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on achieving a balance of organizations by state, region, size and type of provider. It was not possible however to include private (for profit) providers at this stage as none agreed to be included in more detailed analysis. Finally, from the 41 respondents to the telephone interview, 16 sites were selected to participate in site visits to allow interviews with students, and with stakeholders in the community including job centres and other providers. The selection of sites for case studies was purposeful and fulfilled the following criteria: (a) representative of all Australian states (excluding the Northern Territory); (b) demonstrated achievement of 80 per cent of participants moving to employment, further education or volunteering; (c) included ICT skills (an interest of the funding agency); (d) included rural, remote and urban contexts; (e) included disabled and rehabilitation learners; (f) could accommodate our visit in the permitted timeframe; (g) enabled travel to all sites by one or more of the research team in a 1-week period. The site visit protocols were piloted at a regional training provider and observation schedules and interview procedures were amended and finalized. The data were then collected from the remaining 15 selected sites, analysed and reported. A full report is accessible from the site indicated in the bibliography (Gelade et al., 2003).

Criteria for Successful Provision of Re-entry Education The brief for the research was to establish good pedagogic practice for mature adults seeking to re-enter education. The findings were that six criteria were relevant. These were as follows: • self-paced small group sessions with constant positive feedback in an informal environment; • trainers of similar age to cohort who were focused on engaging with each learner, and with building peer support within the cohort; • an emphasis on motivation both to help learners get started and to maintain efforts when setbacks (including external factors) were encountered; • access to workplaces and networks of volunteers, learners and workers; • content that was developed from learners’ prior life experiences, was jargon free (especially in relation to IT) and involved at least initially, small steps, no time pressures and no formal assessment; • economically viable for participants including not only no course fees, but also provision for transport and childcare costs, and travel assistance for work placements.

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The Role of Social Capital What was not anticipated fully in the planning for the study, and was identified but not fully explored in the report for the funder, was the importance of social capital in enabling participants to succeed. Halpern (2005, p. 10) suggests that there are three basic components to social capital, namely networks through which people connect, norms and values which are shared, and sanctions and rewards that help to maintain both the networks and shared values. I include in the concept of social capital those social processes by which people bond with their own kind, link to others in similar life situations, or form bridging links to others in different social networks. Without detracting from the importance of the pedagogic strategies outlined above, we found that there is also a need to create a learning context which enables people to create new social capital. This is because long-term unemployed people who are living in poverty are characterized by a substantial deficit of social capital. Many of the participants described to us the loss of social networks that they had experienced either in becoming unemployed, or when their role as a carer had changed. Three indicative examples are as follows. The first case was a man made redundant when a company went into receivership. He described how he could no longer afford to meet up with his former work mates because ‘you are constantly expected to put your arm in your pocket to buy a round’. He said that in the period of several months before commencing the re-entry course he had not met up with anyone socially because he never knew how much it would cost to have a night out – but whatever it was he could not afford it. This situation only added to what he described as his loss of status because he did not have a job. A similar loss of social networks was repeated by most of the males we interviewed. A second example was a woman with a history of mental illness who had found it difficult to hold down a full-time job. She explained that ‘when I am OK I am fine, but when I get sick they do not want to know’. She had been unemployed for several years and expressed delight that the group were going out to a club where the modest cost was known in advance. She said ‘I will be with friends who understand – I will not have to explain’. This woman had relied primarily on her dad’s company. She described him as supportive both socially and also financially. She said he had bought her a computer when she started the course so she could practise at home. Her dad was the only positive social contact she identified. What was uppermost in her mind when asked about what she had gained from the course was ‘new friends’. A final example was a woman who had cared for a disabled child for over 20 years. During that time she became very well informed about her child’s condition, and claimed that medical practitioners had said that she knew more about the totality of the condition than they did from their specialist perspectives. She was highly regarded and a very determined carer. She had however done this on her own and relied upon a carer pension. Once her child died, the medical networks where she believed she was respected were no longer open to her. Her status among networks of medical practitioners was conditional upon her status as a well-informed carer. Without her disabled child she no longer was included in this network, and

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she had no other networks to turn to because she had been a full-time carer, which meant 24 h per day, 7 days per week. She described her immediate goals as making new friends, and getting a job which she was most definite would not be in a caring role. Her comment was, ‘I have done with caring’. The dearth of social contacts caused by their unemployment, mental health or carer roles combined with profound poverty meant that prior to commencing the course the people we interviewed had virtually no access to social networks through which they could volunteer or gain access to a job. Indeed their social networks were limited to, in some cases, an immediate family member and possibly one or two equally impoverished friends. A critical aspect of the induction of participants was the process that one provider termed ‘laminate therapy’. By this they meant the initial process of enrolment in which the mature adult met the trainer normally around a kitchen table (in this case a laminate table) for an informal discussion. Through this process the provider was able to get to know the person and assess in an informal manner his/her capacities, both in terms of skills and in terms of psychosocial well-being. For the mature adult, most of whom as unemployed people were used to being processed by a series of people in unemployment agencies and in formal learning settings, this personalized approach was the start of a trusting relationship. Most of the people we interviewed were not very trusting of people in roles which could decide whether they would continue their employment benefits. We observed one case where a course participant had been called to the employment office in the middle of the day to attend an interview under threat that her employment benefits would be cut off if she did not attend. The same agency had directed her to attend the course. When she returned the other participants took responsibility for taking her through the material she had missed. It was an illustration of the second process that occurred in the learning context, namely the formation of a social group who were linked together through their common challenge to learn new skills. Several people said that those they had met on their course were the first new friends they had made since becoming unemployed. Thus the training group displayed elements of new social capital and a new level of trust in each other and the trainer. The trainers provided another form of social capital, namely bridging social capital. As local community providers the trainers had built a reputation among employers, and utilized their contacts to help direct people towards work experience and opportunities for employment. Of course this can happen also in furthereducation providers, but normally for those with a much higher level of skill. The credibility of the community providers meant that they could secure placements for people who had been unemployed for a long period of time, but were eager to participate, and willing to learn. Long-term unemployed people were found often to have very little, if any, family support and for many the short-term training group which they joined became an important source of social support. Community providers made special efforts to maintain engagement among members of the group beyond the short-funded training period. Strategies included encouraging them to become part-time volunteers at the centre, and to use the centre as a place to drop in as they made progress in

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further formal courses, volunteering or employment. However, moving beyond the group represented a challenge for some, for whom the security of the centre was their only source of belonging. For these people what had started as new links had become bonding social capital which could either limit opportunities – or provide a platform for success. The providers were aware of this issue and they argued that for some participants this sense of belonging and engagement in a community group represented substantial progress when compared with their former isolated and noncontributing social existence. I noted in particular that for those people with chronic mental illness, the risks they perceived in moving beyond volunteering were considerable. One person explained that ‘no one minds if I need to take a few days out’. The providers also pointed to others who had eventually overcome their fears and progressed into either formal training courses or into paid employment. Methods that were used to foster progression for all participants included using past students as exemplars, and encouraging volunteering with employers to establish links that might, for the individual, overcome prejudice towards older and unemployed workers. These networking methods are important to help mature adults gain access to networks of people through whom they can learn about employment opportunities. The finding that creating social capital is an important factor in the opportunity for long-term unemployed people to engage successfully in training should not be allowed to mask the underlying effects of long-term poverty on the physical and psychological well-being of mature unemployed adults. Financial problems were a common element that impacted the lives of all long-term unemployed people. Their situation involved a number of interrelated issues including low income due to dependency on the benefits system, the high cost of private housing, access to funding for transport, dependency on health and other benefits, and especially the uncertainty of costs incurred in participating in social activities with others who are employed. Even the cost of travel to and from a community centre for training was a strain on the limited finances of some respondents. These findings have also been reported by Crossan et al. (2000).

Social Capital and Social Identity Korte (2007) argues that individuals can derive meaning and stability from belonging to a group and that group norms and values can lead to personal change as the group norms can be more dominant than personal norms, at least within the group setting. For long-term unemployed mature adults the formation of social capital within a group created with the encouragement of a training provider can lead to changes in their social identity and hence changes in their personal identity. To the extent that they ascribe positive attributes to their new group membership, this represents a contrast with the negative self-perception of their capacities and prospects, which most held as unemployed people. However, adoption of a group identity implies a perception of difference from others not in the group, and hence the norms and values fostered as part of the group identity can be a positive or negative influence on their next steps beyond their initial experience of success. Thus

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this retrospective identification of the importance of the formation of new social capital leads to the suggestion that further research is warranted into the effects of new social capital on the personal identity of participants, and the consequences for their progress in terms of volunteering, further education and employment.

Conclusion The dominant paradigm for achieving employability skills has been one of specifying competencies in areas like numeracy, literacy and especially the use of computers (Hancock, 2006). However surveys of employers indicate that they also expect social competencies including communication skills and the ability to work with others. At least among young people, their first job is most commonly secured through an opportunity located by a member of their extended family who is in employment. People who have been living in poverty have lost much of the linking social capital through which they can access opportunities to gain employment. Mature adults in long-term unemployment often lack access to the employment market because they lack linking social capital with people in employment. Their social capital is normally limited to immediate family members and to a very limited circle of other unemployed people. Such bonds will provide some protection and help in their state of poverty, but these bonds can also limit the opportunities for such people to engage beyond their secure bonding social capital. The provision of training for long-term unemployed mature adults is often best developed through the formation of a particularized form of trust between the learner and tutor. This is then followed by learning to form new linking social capital with others in a group leading to the formation of more generalized trust, followed by deliberate efforts to create bridging social capital with people in employment and with employers. Hence for mature adults seeking to return to employment, the formation of new social capital and a new social identity is of equal import with the development of skills, and is a significant contributor to their growth in self-confidence. Curriculum design for return to training and work programmes should explicitly identify the formation of linking and bridging social capital as essential elements. Pedagogical practices must incorporate strategies such as those outlined above in which new social capital can be created. Whether re-entry training is offered in large colleges or in community or private provider organizations, the environment must be conducive to the initial formation of trust with a tutor and the use of a dedicated space in which the learners can feel secure. Hence access to ‘kitchen table therapy’ rather than an impersonal enrolment process is essential. This may explain why for initial re-entry training programmes for long-term unemployed mature adults, no large colleges were able to achieve the level of success observed in the community providers who met the criteria for ‘securing success’. Acknowledgement This chapter draws upon and reanalyses work undertaken jointly with Sue Gelade and Rod Gerber, with assistance from Julian Moore and Peter Nolan. The project was funded by the Australian Government through the then Department of Education, Science and Training (DEST).

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References ABS. (2003). Persons not in the labour force. Canberra: Australian Bureau of Statistics, Publication 6220.0. Australian Government (2002). Intergenerational report. Canberra: AGPS. Clayton, P. (2007). Learning and guidance for older adults, Chapter 1. In P. Clayton, S. Greco, & M. Persson (Eds.), Guidance for life working and learning in the third age. Milan: Franco Angeli s.r.l. Crossan, B., Field, J., Gallacher, J., & Merrill, B. (2000). FE and social inclusion: Understanding the processes of participation. Paper presented at SCUTREA, 30th annual conference, July 3–5, 2000. DfEE. (1998). The learning age: A renaissance for a new Britain. Retrieved May 2010, from www. lifelonglearning.co.uk/greenpaper/index.htm DWP. (2009). New deal. London: Job Centre Plus. Retrieved June 2009, from www.jobcentreplus. gov.uk/JCP/stellent/groups/jcp/documents/websitecontent/dev_016323.pdf Evans, K., Waite, E., & Ananiadou, K. (2005). Adult basic skills and workplace learning: Enhancing skills for Life. Paper presented in the TLRP symposium at the 4th international conference on researching work and learning, Sydney, December 11–14. Fugate, M., Kinicki, A., & Ashforth, B. (2004). Employability: A psycho-social construct, its dimensions, and applications. Journal of Vocational Behavior, 65, 14–38. Gelade, S., Catts, R., & Gerber, R. (2003). Securing success. Canberra: AGPS. Government Office for Science. (2008). Foresight Mental Capital and Wellbeing Project Final Report. London: The Government Office for Science. Halpern, D. (2005). Social capital. Cambridge: Polity Press. Hancock, L. (2006). Mature workers, training and using TLM frameworks. Australian Bulletin of Labour. Retrieved June 2009, from http://www.accessmylibrary.com/coms2/summary_028627755451_ITM Immorodino-Yang, M., & Damasio, A. (2007). We feel, therefore we learn: The relevance of affective and social neuroscience to education. Mind, Brain and Education, 1(1), 3–10. Korte, R. F. A. (2007). Review of social identity theory with implications for training and development. Journal of European Industrial training, 31(3), 166–180. Kramer, J., & DePryck, K. (2008). How silver learners can be silver workers. Thesaloniki: Cedefop. Leitch Review. (2006). Prosperity for all in the global economy – world class skills. Final Report. Norwich: HMSO. McArdle, S., Waters, L., Briscoe, J. P., & Hall, D. T. (2007). Employability during unemployment: Adaptability, career identity and human and social capital. Journal of Vocational Behaviour, 71, 247–264. OECD. (2006). Employment outlook, 2006 – boosting jobs and incomes. Paris: OECD. OECD. (2007). Activating the unemployed: What countries do. Retrieved June 2009, from http:// www.oecd.org/dataoecd/53/41/38976231.pdf OECD. (2008). Quality and equity of schooling in Scotland. Paris: OECD. Schmidt, B. (2008). Perception of age, expectations of retirement and continuing education of older workers. Thessaloniki: Cedefop. Schuller, T. (1997). Modelling the lifecourse: Age, time and education. Bremen: University Press.

Chapter 15

Learning in Working Life: Identity and Workplace Learning John Field

Introduction Biographical research has developed widely across the social sciences, and in recent years has become particularly widespread in the study of adult education (Merrill & West, 2009; West, Alheit, Andersen, & Merrill, 2007). Some British researchers have argued that a biographical approach to workplace learning has considerable potential for integrating individual aspects of learning into social theories of learning (Hodkinson et al., 2004). Other European researchers have, for some years, used life history methods to investigate the formation of occupational identities and examine worker subjectivity (Olesen, 2001; Paloniemi, 2006). So far, though, biographical research has remained very much a minority tradition within vocational education research, particularly in the English-speaking world. In part this imbalance may be due to the nature of the method. Biographical research tends to take the individual’s life course as its focus of concern, and frequently explores issues of subjectivity and meaning. As a method, then, it may be considered poorly suited to the study of vocational learning, which tends to focus either on institutions (firms or colleges) or on occupational groupings (including the professions), and often explores issues of skill transfer and workplace performance. For their part, many biographical researchers have either focused explicitly on the construction of individual narratives, or on the life histories of particular groups of learners. Some have also tended to adopt critical or post-structural theoretical frameworks, which are intended to challenge what some see as the dominant values and positivism of mainstream educational research. This chapter argues that biographical methods may nevertheless be of value in developing a socially situated view of learning in working life. On the one hand, much adult learning takes place in, or in connection with working life. On the other, any strategies for vocational learning, innovative or otherwise, must go beyond the

J. Field (B) School of Education, University of Stirling, Stirling, FK9 4LA, Scotland, UK e-mail: [email protected]

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immediate context of the workplace or training institution. Workers develop and apply their learning across the wider contexts of their everyday lives, and respond to ideas about learning in ways that reflect, and are consistent with, the meanings which they attach to previous experiences of education and training, which of course change over the life course. The method is particularly appropriate to the study of learning in adult life, focusing as it does on changing experiences and understandings as they unfold through the life course.

Learning Lives The idea of lifelong learning has played a prominent role in educational policy since the 1970s. Whereas lifelong learning was initially focused on personal development and growth, it has increasingly become part of a ‘new educational order’ in which the policy emphasis has shifted towards its economic function (Field, 2006). Most existing research on lifelong learning is characterized by an institutional focus in that it studies learning within institutional settings, including colleges and workplace training programmes, or as a function of educational policies and practices. This chapter is based on a contrasting approach. It draws on data from the Learning Lives project, which took a multimethod approach to the study of learning, identity and agency across the life course. We used a broad conception of learning, which includes learning in the context of formal education and work settings, and learning in and from everyday life. While our research included statistical analysis of survey data, it particularly focused on the life histories of individual adults and their learning biographies and trajectories. The core research questions were concerned with examining the interrelationships between learning, identity and agency in their lives. Over a 3-year period we conducted 528 interviews with 117 people (59 male; 58 female) aged between 25 and 84. The interviews themselves consisted of an initial attempt to construct, retrospectively, the participant’s life, followed by further interviews which both reviewed the earlier narrative, and also followed the learning trajectory in ‘real time’. Whereas biographical and life-history methods have been widely used in researching adult and lifelong learning, the Learning Lives project was exceptional in its scale, length and its longitudinal ‘real time’ design, and because it has combined analysis of interview data with analysis of quantitative longitudinal data. In addition we analysed data from the British Household Panel Survey (BHPS). BHPS is an annual panel survey of each adult member of a nationally representative sample of 5,500 British households, involving around 10,000 individuals per wave. This analysis explored patterns of participation in learning in adult life, an area that has previously been studied mainly through cross-sectional surveys. Because BHPS is a longitudinal survey, carried out on an annual basis, it allowed us to analyse flows into, and out of, formal adult education and training (Macleod & Lambe, 2008). These analyses of flows confirmed one of the key findings from

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cross-sectional surveys, in pointing to the central role of work as a key factor determining participation in formal adult learning. In this chapter, I present some key findings from the research, with a particular focus on the ways that people learn through their working lives. The Learning Lives research was centrally concerned with establishing and exploring the place and value that learning has in people’s lives, including their working lives. This chapter summarizes the most important findings and relates them to strategies for improving learning. In particular, I consider the enhancement of learners’ dispositions, learning practices, attainments and opportunities for people to use their skills and knowledge to assert control over their working lives. The research covers both formal and informal learning (Malcolm, Hodkinson, & Colley, 2003). What is often termed informal learning is a ubiquitous part of living, arising out of the experiences of everyday life. It can be significant or insignificant, intended or unintended, and transformative or trivial. Much is often tacit and unrecognized as learning, even by those concerned. In addition, many people participate in formal learning, not just in childhood and youth, but across the lifespan. Participation in formal learning also varies along a spectrum between low and high involvement, depending upon the extent to which the process of learning itself becomes important in the life and self-identity of the person. The project team placed a great deal of weight upon the idea of involvement in learning. Involvement implies that taking part in the learning is immersive and interactive, and involves a degree of agency going beyond what is implied by terms such as participation or engagement. People can engage in learning, yet feel that it is peripheral to what really matters in their lives, or marginal to their sense of who they really see themselves as being. Alternatively, they can value learning as an integral part of their lives, and see it as central to who they are: discovering and mastering new things is a core part of their identity. Our research confirms other studies in showing that most adult participation in formal learning is related to work. It is well established from analyses of cross-sectional survey data that patterns of participation are shaped by a variety of structural factors, and our analysis of BHPS data confirmed this (Aldridge & Tuckett, 2009; Macleod & Lambe, 2007). Yet many of these structural factors are connected to work: there is a steep decline by age, particularly as people approach or enter retirement, and participation varies considerably by occupation and status in work. BHPS data indicate that flows out of learning are very steep among those who leave the workforce, and equally inward flows are strong among those who enter or re-enter paid work (Macleod & Lambe, 2008). Our analysis of qualitative data has complemented these findings, by allowing us to explore the meanings that participation has in different areas of everyday life. As well as showing that work is a major factor in participation, we have further found that much work-related training elicits low levels of involvement. Participation in more general adult education by contrast frequently appears to result in high levels of involvement and is often, but not always, triggered by significant life changing events. Our research also shows that people learn from reflecting upon and thinking

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about their lives, often but not exclusively triggered by life-changing events, some of which may be work-related. It is not possible to make evaluative judgements about strategies for improving lifelong learning, without first making normative judgements about what learning is of value. In particular, our research shows that not all learning is beneficial, and that what counts as valuable learning can differ according to point of view. For example, there are often differences between the value placed upon learning in government policy, and what many people see as valuable in their lives. In general terms, our research shows that people can experience learning as valuable in a range of different circumstances. Learning can help people with the processes of routine living, help people adjust to changed circumstances, provide valuable knowledge or skills, for particular purposes, which can include employment and career change, but also relate to other activities that they value, which may or may not influence their experiences in the labour market; it can contribute to changing self-identity and to the achievement of agency. However, learning for any person or group is always enabled and constrained by their horizons for learning. These horizons depend in turn on the interrelationships between people and their situations. This means that there are always limits on what can be learned, so that strategies for improving learning must vary to meet people’s needs and different circumstances.

Strategies for Improving Vocational Learning It is important to be pragmatic about what counts as a ‘learning strategy’. A working definition is that a strategy for learning involves a planned, coherent approach to providing and/or achieving learning. Such strategies can originate from different types of ‘actors’, such as individual learners: those who teach and advise adult learners; governments, through their policies and funding approaches; and local and regional organizations, in the voluntary, private and public sectors, and encompassing both employers and managers and workers’ own organizations, such as trade unions and professional institutions. The work done within the Learning Lives project suggests four broad approaches to improving learning. Briefly, they are 1. Provision of planned courses, workshops etc. (‘formal’ education and training), 2. Personal support for the learner, which may be professional (career guidance, workplace mentoring, tutoring, provision of learning materials, etc.) or informal (friends, colleagues, family, local community), 3. Enhancing learning cultures, that is, improving opportunities for learning in particular locations, including distributed locations (different areas in the workplace, local community, etc.), 4. Providing opportunities for self-reflection, including talking, writing, thinking about our own life histories and life circumstances.

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From a pragmatic perspective, these often do, and indeed should overlap. Each of these approaches works best when it addresses both aspects of a person’s horizons for learning: the internal and the external. It is possible to develop strategies for improvement using any one of these approaches taken independently, and we consider that next. However, there is often more to be gained by looking at them in combination.

Formal Education and Training We have considerable evidence of the value of formal education and training. Where it is of value, formal education has two overlapping types of direct outcome. The first is the learning of whatever the course was designed to teach. The second is a contribution to personal growth and/or change. Where learners have a low level of involvement, the emphasis is on the former. Where there is a high level of involvement, the former becomes a part of the latter. Naomi Smith, for instance, was a single mother working in a tax office when she decided to take a journalism course at her local college; after the journalism course was cancelled for under-recruitment, she took a short higher-education course: ‘I did social sciences and obviously it was brilliant, it was really stimulating and for the first time I felt I was learning in a place with peers because people had obviously chosen to be there. . . because it’s social sciences I suppose it attracts a lot of people with kinda life experiences as well. I had some really good lecturers and I found the work really stimulating’ (first interview, 16/1/06). Naomi contrasted this with previous training courses, where her fellow learners were reluctant attenders and were either younger than herself or – she felt – took a dim view of her lifestyle. She also found, to her surprise, that she performed well in sociology, a subject she had not taken any interest in before, and less well in psychology, a subject that had long fascinated her. She was even more enthusiastic about an active citizenship programme in her local community centre, which combined practical skills training with group work and visits to the parliaments of Edinburgh, Westminster and Brussels, which led her to become involved in local community politics. For Naomi, and for others in our sample, the social process of learning is often at least as important as what is being learned. We have several cases which show that participation in adult education can lead to high levels of involvement. Such high involvers often take several different courses, over several years. Such periods of participation are often linked to significant life-changing events. However, in some cases, participation in adult education continues periodically throughout the person’s life. On the other hand, many in our sample routinely attend short courses or training events that seem to have little, if any, discernable impact on their identities. Often, these are courses provided by employers, which people can see are relevant to their work, but seem not to touch them, beyond this instrumental purpose. Elizabeth Reid, an auxiliary nurse, had enjoyed school and was generally positive about education and training, particularly if it had some practical application, but

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recalled employer-run induction courses with scorn: ‘I mean your general induction one was just like a day of really sitting in front of a blackboard or, you know, like we had an overhead projector, getting given handouts; you know what they’re like, you kind of switch off after about half an hour and you just never seem to get it again’ (first interview, 06/07/06). However, even though she could see the practical value of skill courses dealing with topics like moving and handling, or dealing with challenging behaviour, she had become far more involved in her learning while at university: ‘I was just really interested in much more, like the study of people in society and why people do what they do and how different things can affect people and influence them and from that kind of level and, you know, societal structures and stuff, and you’ve got your different groups and everything and all the interaction between them and stuff, that kind of thing I was really interested in’ (first interview, 06/07/06). This more involved form of learning led her to a career in social work, an area she had never previously considered. Routine and passive forms of learning, and programmes which involved the more mechanistic forms of assessment of prior learning were particularly unlikely to promote deep learning. When Kathleen Donnelly, a detached youth worker, was sent on a course leading to a Scottish Vocational Qualification, she said that ‘I made up my SVQ, the whole lot of it, in a few weeks. It was easy, it was ridiculously easy’ (third interview, 29/09/06). John Black, who managed training in his large engineering workplace, radically transformed the firm’s approach to SVQs after inheriting what he described as a system of ‘ticking boxes’, claiming that his predecessor had apprentices writing meaningless reports: ‘health and safety, right, he was having them writing a report and he was having them write things like ‘Before I drilled a hole I put my safety glasses on’’ (sixth interview, 03/11/06). Although she was enthusiastic about a later SVQ programme, Naomi Smith found her first SVQ course boring: ‘I just thought it was really, really dull, evidence on work that was already done’ (second interview 12/06/06). Finally, there were those who were sent on training courses while they were unemployed. Billy Milroy, who had fallen out with his brother while they were working together as chefs, remembered leaving his job ‘and after that it was all just vocational courses, just training courses, training for work, eh (pause), just training courses, I didn’t actually get a full time job until 1994’; he took the courses ‘only because I think the benefits office was actually forcing me to take these courses, if I didn’t take them they were gonna cut my benefits’ (first interview, 26/11/04). Vocational courses can also be undertaken voluntarily, usually for a particular purpose – like improving skills with a computer. Peter Noble, a graduate engineer and part-time hard-rock musician, was unusual in opting freely to take a health and safety course, but he judged it solely in instrumental terms: ‘I actually did a health and safety night class off my own back and qualified for health and safety inspector, unfortunately the money in health and safety for all they promote it there is no money in health and safety, every health and safety job I’ve ever seen has been considerably less than other sort of technical or engineering sort of areas’ (first interview, 04/05/2005). It is perhaps significant that Peter’s job is varied, unpredictable and frequently challenging, and he himself identified the extent to which

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this constantly challenged him to develop new thinking and build upon his skills: ‘I’ve a couple of projects coming up which I know I’m going to really enjoy, we’re looking at building some eco schools, using solar panels and wind energy and whatever else and that will be a new direction for me and I will enjoy learning about these sort of new aspects’ (third interview, 04/07/06). Moreover, by the time of his fourth interview, he had also been elected to the national committee of his professional engineering institute. The quantitative data shows that most participation in formal adult learning is associated closely with employment (Macleod & Lambe, 2008, 2007). Much formal learning is therefore likely to be of the low-involvement type. It is less the nature of provision that determines the level of learner involvement, than the interrelationship between that provision, the learner and the broader positions within which the learning takes place. However, high levels of involvement require lengthy periods of participation in one or more courses, so is less likely in circumstances where this is not possible. Where the outcomes of formal learning are only concerned with the acquisition of course content, this is not a problem. But when the hope and/or intention are to make a difference to or to change the learner, short courses alone are unlikely to be successful. For significant personal change, there is a need for longerterm, formal provision that can encourage higher levels of involvement, and/or the short courses need to be integrated into related informal learning in the learner’s life (see below). This finding highlights a contradiction in many current policies towards lifelong learning, which set out ambitious goals of personal change for such provision, mainly associated with gaining employment, but also with increasing social inclusion, whilst focusing primarily on short course provision, and on the acquisition of specified content outcomes, measured by qualification achievement. Policy makers have set ambitious targets for greater employment and social inclusion, while promoting flexibility and upskilling for all. These objectives must entail significant changes in self-identity for many of those people whose life chances the government is hoping to improve. Our research suggests that such personal change is least likely to be achieved through short courses. We have found that the value for adult workers of any formal learning does not depend primarily on the achievement of a qualification (though our evidence includes plenty of cases where this has been valuable and even essential for some people). Many, perhaps most adults, take formal learning provision aimed at a level the same as or below their previous best qualifications. So successful formal learning for adults does not depend on climbing a linear hierarchy of qualifications. A final empirical point is that some groups have specific needs, and these will require targeted provision. Many of these groups are already well known from previous studies, but some are less familiar. Our analysis of BHPS data, for example, showed that a number of groups who are not in the workforce are missing out. This includes young women who had early transitions into parenthood, and as some of this group showed a preference for learning at home, they may benefit from access to targeted and supported online provision. The BHPS analysis also indicated that older adults (54+) do not seem to be catered for at all in the UK skills drive. We also have evidence of formal education and training that had negative effects on people. A lot of the negative

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experience relates to early schooling, but not all. Some derives from participation in formal learning in adult life, which for one reason or another is experienced not only as unsatisfactory in some way, but more fundamentally, serving to ‘switch off’ motivation for any further formal participation. Disturbingly, this included instances where adults were highly frustrated by their experience of working towards a vocational qualification. Our research shows that many adults live successful and fulfilled lives without much participation in formal learning. However, it also shows that many people gain considerably from such engagement. Our research further suggests that current strategies and provision of formal learning in the UK have some serious shortcomings. These include an excessive focus on learning related to employment, which may be counterproductive for workers as well as for others outside the labour market; lack of accessible provision for people who are not currently in employment; limited availability of longer provision that is likely to sustain personal growth through high levels of involvement; an over-focus on content acquisition as demonstrated by qualification achievement; and, particularly in England, a dangerous restriction of funding to hierarchical qualification improvement. If the intention is to build a knowledge-intensive workplace that engages all workers, these limitations should be addressed.

Personal Support We have a lot of data suggesting the importance of personal support in improving learning. This can happen within formal courses, and also in relation to wide ranges of more informal or everyday learning. The support can be from one individual or from a supportive group. It can be professional – career guidance, workplace mentoring, or a tutor on a formal course. It can also be provided through informal contacts, with relatives, friends, work colleagues, local community groups, classmates, etc. Strategies for improving professional personal support in learning can be thought of in three ways. First, all formal learning provision contains an element of personal support, from a tutor or trainer. In addition, some courses also involve further support, for example from a coach or mentor. In either case, this personal support role can be very important. Second, many workplaces provide professional support for learners (in most cases, this especially affects new staff). This can be through an official mentor or more informally, though the day-to-day guidance from more experienced colleagues. Third, there are professional agencies, both government funded and within the voluntary sector, who provide personal support in relation to particular types of situation. Examples include marriage guidance, debt avoidance, psychotherapy and career guidance. At the heart of all these activities is the learning of the clients, usually about themselves in relation to a major personal change or crisis. Our research contains several examples where such support has been very valuable, and suggests that recent attacks on a supposedly growing therapeutic culture are over-stated. Personal support for learning works best when the person giving

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that support can focus on the wants and interests of the client. Attempts to push people into doing things they do not want to do, and the rationale for which they do not accept, often result in avoidance, resistance or strategic compliance. Such learning support also works best when the support and learning are interrelated to other activities and learning in the person’s life. Finally, learning is most successful when the learner trusts and respects the person giving them support. For example, John Black, an experienced specialist engineer who had moved into training himself, was told to job shadow a predecessor; he ‘Purposely didn’t take anything in because the way he was doing things was too complicated, old fashioned and within the department we knew we needed to move on, so he’s now come and gone, I’ve moved in and radically changed things’ (sixth interview, 03/11/06). In other cases, workers had a mentor whom they respected, and were accordingly much more involved in the learning. A serious strategic concern is the very uneven access to such professional learning support, beyond formal learning provision. This is partly a matter of availability, partly a matter of cost, and partly a matter of personal awareness of what such support services can offer, and what the benefits can be. Non-professional support takes place through the family, friendships and communities within which people live. It can be usefully seen as part of social capital. Our sample includes people who have successfully built social networks to help support their learning, and even examples of people who have cut themselves off from what they regarded as inhibiting ties. It follows that such support is best improved through activities directed at improving social networking, and the availability of personal support in a general sense. It also suggests that co-presence can be an important resource for learners, particularly those most at risk of disengagement from learning programmes. This is one part of a strategy for enhancing learning cultures.

Enhancing Learning Cultures A major limitation on the learning of some people is the impoverishment of the learning cultures with which they engage. Any social situation has a learning culture, in the sense that there are always shared norms and values which shape and give meaning to the practices through which people learn in that situation (Hodkinson, Biesta, & James, 2007). Managers and other actors – including trade unions – can make decisions that aim to shape the learning culture in their organization. The enhancement of a person’s learning cultures can be approached in three ways. First, the learning culture of any specific situation can be enhanced. Second, people can be given access to a greater range of situations where learning takes place. Third, people’s networks of social support can be changed and broadened. Within any particular situation, the learning culture can be enhanced in ways that make valuable learning more likely. This can be done by expanding the range of challenges and opportunities within the situation, thus broadening the learning practices that a person can participate in. For example, work can be organized to create new challenges and opportunities, or line managers can adopt an enthusiastic

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and proactive approach to learning rather than a sceptical and obstructive stance. A trade union might offer chances to become involved in leadership roles, as well as playing a part in local decision making. Another way of enhancing a specific learning culture is to increase opportunities for shared and collaborative activity, where participants can learn from each other. This is particularly important in the light of developments in technology-enhanced learning, which may need to be used in conjunction with co-presence. Research shows that learning is more likely to be effective if the many forces acting upon a learning culture are acting synergistically with the learning concerned. For example, workers are more likely to learn cooperation and team work if (i) the labour process requires such cooperation to bring success; (ii) the influential members of the organization are themselves exemplars of cooperation; (iii) distinction within the enterprise is earned at least partly through such cooperation, and (iv) the learners want to become better team players. The learning cultures of different situations differ considerably, even when two situations have the same purpose. It follows that detailed attempts to improve the learning culture of any situation must be situation specific. Furthermore, in most situations, learning is not the prime function. Workplaces, to take an obvious example, exist primarily to produce a particular product or service. It follows that any enhancement of the learning culture will normally be secondary to the achievement of that prime function. Enhancing the learning culture in any situation has to be pragmatic. Nevertheless, this particular approach to improving learning is currently neglected, and much more could be done. Many successful adults already live in a range of situations which combine to provide rich learning cultural variations. However, an important way of understanding the problems faced by the least advantaged sectors of society is that they lack access to this rich variety, in ways that severely limit their learning. We can give two examples from the Learning Lives data. First, when people are not employed, one major situation where learning is possible is removed. The unemployed, homemakers and the retired not only have reduced access to formal learning, they lack participation in the learning culture of work. Second, some people live in stigmatized areas with few opportunities for expansive learning. Most policy and research focuses on issues of poverty, unemployment and health in defining and analysing such communities. However, there are also areas with relatively few accessible situations which provide rich learning cultures. Indeed, such areas are often stigmatized by outsiders in ways that further inhibit attempts to broaden social networks and promote reliance on limited internal resources, of the kind that some social capital researchers refer to as bonding ties (Field, 2005). One way of improving learning in such disadvantaged and stigmatized communities is to expand and sustain opportunities for both informal and formal learning within them. However, there is a major challenge in overcoming a culture of cynicism about the purpose of learning programmes for unemployed people. Billy Milroy, who had been on a number of similar training programmes over the years, when he had been sporadically unemployed, reflected on his most recent experience: ‘Well, to me it just seemed like all the rest of the training courses and ways

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the government can fiddle the job seekers, the unemployment figures, you know, ‘Get him off the bureau [unemployment benefit], get him into college and it’s one less we need to count’’ (third interview, 23/04/2005). That said, Billy had enjoyed the course, and believed it had helped him find work, as a warehouse operative, albeit briefly.

Personal Reflection and Narrative Learning The project has generated extensive evidence of biographical learning, i.e. of ways in which adults learn from their lives. The life-history methodology has helped us to explore the significance of narrative and narration in such learning processes, something we have captured in the idea of ‘narrative learning’. Biesta and Tedder (2009) have clarified the idea of ‘narrative learning’ through the course of this study. Stories and storying are important vehicles for learning from one’s life, and our evidence shows how differences in the ‘narrative quality’ of life stories (i.e. narrative intensity; descriptive-evaluative quality; plot and emplotment; flexibility of storying) are correlated with different learning processes (the ‘learning potential’ of life stories) and differing learning outcomes (the ‘action potential’). There are important differences in the efficacy of life storying, and there appear to be important relationships between styles of narration, forms of narrative learning and agency. Life stories play a crucial role in the articulation of a sense of self which means that narrative learning is also a form of ‘identity work’. In the project, we have defined agency as the (situated) ability to give direction to one’s life. We have found that learning itself may or may not be agentically driven: it can be self-initiated or forced by others, or be incidental. Learning may result in increase or decrease of agency. Increased agency seems to be more obvious and common, but much depends on the extent to which people acknowledge that they have learned something. This is more obvious in relation to formal education, often because qualifications open up new possibilities for action. Yet, experiences of successful learning also impact positively on people’s self-confidence, which in turn can lead to increased agency in many aspects of their lives. The research indicates that the extent to which learning ‘translates’ into agency, depends on a range of factors and also on the particular ‘ecological’ conditions of people’s field of action (Biesta & Tedder, 2008). Decreased agency through learning occurs when people learn that things are too difficult or that they cannot cope, which, in turn, has an impact upon their sense of self. Billy Milroy made a connection between the lack of a job when he finished training as a fork lift truck driver and his subsequent dependency problems: ‘Ay, once my year training was up there were no job prospects on the horizon so I finished with them and that’s I think when I got involved in the drugs’ (second interview, 21/01/2005). The narration of one’s life story is not only an important vehicle for expressing one’s sense of self, but also for articulating and actively constructing such a sense of self. Relationships between identity and learning often become clear at times of crisis and change. People’s major, life-changing turning points often involve a need

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to learn. Learning can then contribute to changes in some dispositions, and thus a person’s identity. It is, however, possible that existing dispositions are so strong that learning and subsequent change in identity do not happen. Our data suggest a widespread ‘need’ for the construction of a (coherent) life story that helps them to make sense and come to terms with their life, although we also have clear evidence of the situated nature of life stories (that they are told and constructed for particular purposes and in particular social settings), and that people often maintain a distinction between a private and a public version of their life stories. The ‘capability’ of learning from one’s life is not fixed but can change over time. We have found that narrative learning operates at the intersection of ‘internal conversations’ and social practices of story telling, which means that for many the (social) opportunities for narrating one’s life story are an important vehicle for narrative learning. Our work is therefore consistent with other studies that emphasize the importance of what some have called a ‘social practice pedagogy’ (Street, 1995), ensuring that learners can contribute their own experiences, grasping the distinctiveness of each learner’s life narrative, and establishing common ground where different people’s narratives can be heard and valued.

Combining Strategic Approaches Often, a successful strategy for improving learning will combine some or all of these four approaches. This is particularly clear in the case of work-related learning. Other research, in addition to ours, shows that the most important factor influencing learning at work is the nature of work itself. This includes but is more than the particular combination of tasks that a worker undertakes. Another study in the Teaching and Learning Research Programme has examined the ways in which the organization of work processes, as well as the work process itself, and the personal relationships that people build within the workplace, help to determine whether workers are involved in ‘expansive’ learning while working or not (Felstead, Fuller, Jewson, & Unwin, 2009). It follows that employers, trade unions or professional bodies who wish to improve learning at work should first focus upon what we have termed the ‘learning culture’ of the workplace. Enhancing this culture might, for example, include providing greater challenges and new work opportunities, increasing cooperative and collaborative working, and modifying working practices which inhibit desired learning. In addition, personal support may be provided through official or unofficial mentoring, and formal courses can also be provided. However, a central problem with learning at work is the tendency to focus only on what the employer values. Where that happens, even the best learning strategies can be counterproductive, from the perspective of the individual worker. For example, mentoring schemes focused too tightly on employer objectives often generate resistance and strategic compliance. They may also obstruct innovation, by entrenching an inward-looking culture that pushes learning into narrow and well-defined channels. In such an environment, helping learners make sense of their own lives may feel more like increased

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surveillance than empowerment. Equally, well-managed and focused mentoring schemes can help learners broaden their social capital and provide support for informal, as well as formal learning.

Limitations to Any Strategy While the Learning Lives research shows that all of these ways of improving learning can work and be beneficial for some people, it also reminds us of vast variations in individual identities and circumstances. No single approach is likely to work for all people all of the time. And, whatever mix of approaches is adopted, there remain central and contested questions about the significance, value and desirability of learning. It is also important to remember that most informal learning is unintentional. This means that when attempts are made to promote particular learning processes and outcomes, there are likely to be additional unforeseen and unintended processes and outcomes, which may sometimes be more powerful than those intended. It is for these reasons that the Learning Lives project endorses approaches from other TLRP research on lifelong learning (Pollard, 2007), in arguing that successful strategies to improve learning are likely to focus on increasing the likelihood of desirable learning in any particular situation, rather than prescribing what should be learned and how.

Conclusions Identity and agency are important but often neglected dimensions of all workplace learning. To say this is not to deny the importance of institutions and structures in shaping opportunities for and participation in learning, whether for work or for other purposes (though in practice, as our data show, employment plays an extraordinarily powerful role in shaping participation in learning). Simple recipes for ‘good instruction’, or ‘standards-based assessment’, may have the merits of clarity and transparency, but they commonly underestimate the complexities of everyday life. Social structures and practices are always both objective (‘out there’) and subjective (‘felt inside’): people’s actions and beliefs will lead them to create or influence practices and norms, and these in turn pose constraints on the behaviour of others. While curricular and assessment regimes can always be planned in fine detail in advance, workers will always experience them in ways that are shaped by their own lived experiences, their values and their interactions with one another. Work-related learning therefore depends on the complex interactions of a number of factors, including the positions, dispositions and actions of workers, who in turn are influenced by their biographies and their previous lived experiences, including their previous experiences of the institutions and structures that shape their working lives. Those who design and deliver vocational training need to recognize this; in turn, they should enjoy the authority to respond accordingly.

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Acknowledgement Learning Lives: Learning, Identity and Agency in the Life-Course was funded by the Economic and Social Research Council, Award Reference RES139250111, and formed part of the ESRC’s Teaching and Learning Research Programme. Learning Lives was a collaborative project involving the University of Exeter (Flora Macleod, Michael Tedder, Paul Lambe), the University of Brighton (Ivor Goodson, Norma Adair), the University of Leeds (Phil Hodkinson, Heather Hodkinson, Geoff Ford, Ruth Hawthorne), and the University of Stirling (Gert Biesta, John Field, Irene Malcolm, Heather Lynch). For further information see www. learninglives.org.

References Aldridge, F., & Tuckett, A. (2009). Narrowing participation: The NIACE survey on adult participation in learning 2009. Leicester: National Institute of Adult Continuing Education. Biesta, G., & Tedder, M. (2008). Learning from life in the learning economy: The role of narrative. In J. Crowther, V. Edwards, V. Galloway, M. Shaw, & L. Tett (Eds.), Whither adult education in the learning paradigm? Proceedings of the 38th annual conference of SCUTREA (pp. 70–77). Edinburgh: University of Edinburgh. Biesta, G., & Tedder, M. (2009). What does it take to learn from one’s life? Exploring opportunities for biographical learning in the lifecourse. In B. Merrill (Ed.), Learning to change? The role of identity and learning careers in adult education (pp. 33–47). Frankfurt-am-Main: Peter Lang. Felstead, A., Fuller, A., Jewson, N., & Unwin, L. (2009). Improving working as learning. London: Routledge. Field, J. (2005). Lifelong learning and social capital. Bristol: Policy Press. Field, J. (2006). Lifelong learning and the new educational order. Stoke-on-Trent: Trentham. Hodkinson, P., Biesta, G., & James, D. (2007). Understanding learning cultures. Educational Review, 59(4), 415–427. Hodkinson, P., Hodkinson, H., Evans, K., Kersh, N., Fuller, A., Unwin, L., et al. (2004). The significance of individual biography in workplace learning. Studies in the Education of Adults, 36(1), 6–26. Malcolm, J., Hodkinson, P., & Colley, H. (2003). The interrelationships between informal and formal learning. Journal of Workplace Learning, 15(7), 313–318. Macleod, F., & Lambe, P. (2007). Patterns and trends in part-time adult education participation in relation to UK nation, class, place of participation, gender, race and disability, 1998–2003. International Journal of Lifelong Education, 26(4), 399–418. Macleod, F., & Lambe, P. (2008). Dynamics of adult participation in part-time education and training: Results from the British household panel survey. Research Papers in Education, 23(2), 31–41. Merrill, N., & West, L. (2009). Using biographical methods in social research. London: Sage. Olesen, H. S. (2001). Professional identity as learning processes in life histories. Journal of Workplace Learning, 13(7/8), 290–297. Paloniemi, S. (2006). Experience, competence and workplace learning. Journal of Workplace Learning, 18(7/8), 439–450. Pollard, A. (2007). The UK’s teaching and learning research programme: Findings and significance. British Educational Research Journal, 33(5), 639–646. Street, B. (1995). Social literacies: Critical approaches to literacies in development. London: Longmans. West, L., Alheit, P., Andersen, A. S., & Merrill, B. (Eds.). (2007). Using biographies and life history approaches in the study of adult and lifelong learning. Frankfurt-am-Main: Peter Lang.

Chapter 16

The Impact of Self-Perception on Vocational Learning Larry Smith and Margaret Kling

Introduction Self-perception is about how we see and value ourselves. It is also about how we see and value the people and events around us, and in turn, how we believe the outside world sees and values us. As a consequence, self-perception is a major determinant of our goals and ambitions, and our beliefs regarding our capacity to achieve them. Self-perception is a component of the broader concept of personal and social identity. Psychologists define ‘identity’ in terms of a bounded cognitive schema – a structure of complex, rich, affectively charged, interrelated concepts about the self . . . [that] . . . contains core concepts and peripheral concepts of the self. Core concepts allow an individual to maintain an enduring personality, and peripheral concepts allow an individual to adapt to various situations (Forte, 2007, p. 168).

As a psychological trait, identity is derived in part from our interactions with and among other people and our social environment (the domain of perception), but it is also derived in large part from neurological processes that occur in our brains (Pratt, 2003). There is a widely held view within the vocational education and training sector that although of major importance, identity theory currently is still too complex and too poorly understood to be of significant practical assistance for training interventions (Brubaker & Cooper, 2000). Self-perception, however, is a much less complex and much better understood notion, and one that can realistically be addressed by all vocational educators to improve the quality of vocational learning. For this reason, the focus of this chapter is on issues and concepts relating to self-perception, rather than on the more encompassing psychological theory of personal and social identity. This chapter analyses and synthesizes the findings of three empirical studies that shed light on the ways in which self-perception impacts on vocational learning. L. Smith (B) Faculty of the Professions, University of New England, Armidale, NSW, Australia e-mail: [email protected]

R. Catts et al. (eds.), Vocational Learning, Technical and Vocational Education and Training: Issues, Concerns and Prospects 14, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-1539-4_16,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2011

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The first study, by Misko, Beddie and Smith, provides evidence that unless people perceive themselves to be competent learners, they generally will not seek to access formal vocational programmes. The second study, by PhD student Margaret Kling, reports on a series of exploratory discussions with seven adult learners, seeking their insights into the impact of self-perception on their learning processes and outcomes. Study three, by Smith and Clayton, highlights the potentially critical role that reflection may play in developing self-perception as a learner, and in turn, in improving learning performance.

A Brief Review of the Literature Much has been written in the field of psychology about self-perception, which generally is seen to refer to notions of pride, self-esteem and feelings of knowing and familiarity (Laird, 2007). Psychologists, however, are divided over whether selfperception is the driver of our behaviour, or whether our behaviour provides us with the information and perspectives from which we construct our self-perception (Gilovich, Keltner, & Nisbett, 2006). The reality is that the argument is somewhat a ‘chicken and egg’ exercise, because what generally operates is a continuous cycle in which behaviour drives self-perception which in turn drives behaviour, as shown in Fig. 16.1. While there is a plethora of research addressing self-perception as a psychological phenomenon, there is a paucity of conceptually sound and methodologically rigorous research regarding the perception of oneself as a learner, and in particular, how that perception influences the nature and quality of learning. The Smith and Clayton study (described later in this chapter), for example, notes the ‘lack of any rigorous longitudinal research’ (Smith & Clayton, 2009, p. 29), while the Australian Position Paper to the OECD on informal and non-formal learning notes that while there have been some excellent research studies undertaken in Australia [on this topic], . . . the number is limited and the questions still to be answered are numerous. In particular, there would seem to be a need for more rigorous quantitative analyses. . . and qualitative longitudinal studies (Misko, Beddie, & Smith, 2007, p. 110).

Self-perception

Feelings

Fig. 16.1 Relationship between self-perception and behaviour

Behaviour

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A consistent theme in the literature is that people often have low self-perception as a learner because they do not appreciate fully the value and extent of what they have learned through life and work experiences – variously referred to as experiential or informal learning. Research by Livingstone (2000), for example, found that the workers he interviewed consistently denied that they had knowledge and skills that he had formally observed them employing in their workplace. Similarly, Hager notes that learners themselves, influenced by prevailing assumptions about education and knowledge, are often unaware of the significance, range and depth of their informal learning (Hager, 1998, p. 533).

In his book The Adult Learner: a neglected species, Malcolm Knowles identified a set of Principles of Adult Learning (or what he termed ‘andragogy’) based on many years of research and observation. A central theme of Knowles’ principles is that the nature and quality of adult learning is strongly influenced by the prior experiences and achievements of the learners, and in particular, by the perception of themselves as learners that those experiences and achievements cultivate. Knowles argued the importance of previous experience and achievement from two perspectives: the power of success as a motivator of learning, and the ‘personal comfort’ associated in applying learning in the context of what is already known and experienced. ‘If the learning experience ignores or devalues the students’ experiences, they perceive this as not rejecting just their experience, but rejecting them as persons’ (Knowles, 1990, p. 56). Knowles also believed that what he termed ‘self-concept’ as a learner is significantly determined by the perceptions that others express about the learner; that is, that much of our self-perception as learners is determined by what we think others think about us. This belief is supported by research by Ryckmann (1993) who found that our self-concept as a learner is related to the regard that others exhibit towards us as learners. Research by Merriam and Brockett (1997) and Kling (2004) reported possible links between past learning experiences and self-perception as a learner, and in turn, between self-perception as a learner and future learning success. Both studies found that self-perception was, above all, critical to the learner meeting the challenge of taking the initial step to engage in a learning event. The findings of a study by Illeris support this view, noting that ‘if something occurs that the individual experiences as defeat, humiliation or other negative experience . . . very quickly a thick wall of defence can be mobilized’ that ensures that the individual avoids engagement in learning (Illeris, 2003, p. 174). Similarly, Ryckmann (1993) concluded that evidence generally supports the proposition that people learn better if the perceived threats in the learning environment are low, and they have sufficient self-perception to ‘take on’ what threats are there. In 2004, Bauer et al. conducted an exploratory study into the relationship between epistemological beliefs and learners’ appraisal of their workplaces as effective learning environments, postulating that ‘adults conceptualize their learning according to their epistemological beliefs’ (Bauer, Festner, Gruber, Harteis, & Heid, 2004, p. 3). Similarly, Chan (2002) conducted exploratory research in Hong Kong

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into the relationship between personal beliefs about learning and learning capacity, and the approaches used for study. The findings of both studies were far from conclusive, but nevertheless, were strong enough to recommend the need for more rigorous research into the influence of self-perception on learning processes and success. A 2003 study by Boud and Solomon reported the interesting finding that vocational learners often do not recognize when they are learning, or indeed, what it is they have learnt. This finding is potentially very significant, because if selfperception is best enhanced by past experiences and successes as a learner, it is of considerable concern that individuals may not recognize many of the relevant learning experiences and achievements they need to enhance their self-perception. In this regard, the role of a trusted mentor to guide learner reflection on prior learning experiences and successes becomes critical. In their study of the recognition of prior learning in Australia, Smith and Clayton found that there was universal agreement among those interviewed that the most valuable part of recognition of prior learning was not the credit granted but rather the confidence and self-esteem they gained by reflecting on what they already had done and learned (Smith & Clayton, 2009, p. 20).

Reflection is ‘the practice of stepping back to ponder and to express the meaning to self . . . of what has, will, or is happening’ (Raelin, 2008, p. 125). It is about understanding and evaluating the contribution to learning of the previous experiences and life situations of the learner (Schon, 1983). Vocational students consistently report that reflection is a powerful way of developing their confidence and selfesteem as a learner (Smith & Clayton, 2009; Whittaker, Whittaker, &, Cleary, 2006). Indeed, Canadian research by Van Kleef (2007) and Arscott, Crowther, Young, and Ungarian (2007) reported that students considered that their perceptions of themselves as learners were major determinants of their future success in formal vocational education programmes. Several research studies have identified that the process of reflection works much better for vocational learning when it is guided by a mentor (Blom, Clayton, Bateman, Bedggood, & Hughes, 2004; Bateman & Knight, 2003; Bowman et al., 2003). The importance of a mentor to a vocational learner during the process of reflection is probably best summarized by the words of an actual workplace learner, quoted in Smith and Clayton: It is amazing how much you really have done and learned in your life, but you’d never realize it thinking about it yourself. There are so many things you just don’t even think about on your own. It was so good having someone probing and probing my memory deeper and deeper. I think that was the best thing . . . no doubts (Smith & Clayton, 2009, p. 20).

In summary, then, a review of the literature suggests that there is a direct relationship between the self-perception of vocational learners and the nature and quality of the vocational learning with which they engage. The literature also provides strong evidence that guided reflection is one of the most powerful processes for improving the level of self-perception as a learner. These findings are well summarized by Velez

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who noted, ‘you cannot effectively motivate students extrinsically who lack intrinsic belief in themselves . . . Self -perception is not a quality given, it is an attitude cultivated’ (Velez, 2006, p. 15).

The Misko, Beddie and Smith Study In 2007, Josie Misko (National Council for Vocational Education Research), Francesca Beddie (a private vocational education consultant) and Larry Smith (University of New England) conducted a series of case studies to inform their report on non-formal and informal learning in Australia, which subsequently became the Australian Position Paper to the OECD. The specific purpose of the research was to identify the factors that encourage people to seek access to formal vocational learning. The case studies involved students, past students, teachers/ lecturers, employers and system administrators involved in both public and private sector vocational learning. Participation in the research was voluntary, but the sampling process was structured to ensure that the group of people finally interviewed was representative with respect to gender, age, geographic location (metropolitan/rural), ethnic background and industry sector. Open-ended questions encouraged those interviewed to ‘tell their story’, focusing on the people, events, opportunities and – above all – ‘feelings’ that influenced their decision to seek formal learning. Thematic analysis of the interview scripts identified that one of the most critical factors influencing individuals to seek access to formal vocational learning is ‘the feeling of self-worth and self-confidence that is developed by an understanding that their life experiences have provided them with important knowledge and skills’ that can help them successfully undertake vocational learning (Misko et al., 2007, p. 110). ‘Rosemary’, for example, is reported as saying I was doing things but there was no recognition inside of me. I was just doing them . . . But then I started to recognise, and I said to myself: ‘Hey look at this! I’ve got all this going for me!’ (Misko et al., 2007, p. 96).

The study also found that improving self-perception as a learner generally involves intentional and often structured intervention by ‘influential others’, particularly teachers, employers and peers. Indeed, the authors found almost no evidence that individuals are likely to initiate processes for improving their self-perception as learners themselves. The case studies suggest that the critical issue for individuals is the risk that they might not be allowed access to formal learning, or that if they were they might subsequently have excessive difficulties with their studies, either of which would undermine an already fragile self-perception. It is also important to note that the authors found no reportable evidence that the issues relating to self-perception as a learner differed on the basis of age, sex, geographic location, ethnicity or industry background. The Misko et al. study, then, provides evidence from an extensive national data bank of interview transcripts that self-perception as a learner is largely derived

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Learning behaviours

Learning experiences

Perception of self as a learner

Willingness to engage in formal learning

Fig. 16.2 Engagement in formal learning

from one’s previous learning experiences and can be significantly leveraged by the intentional intervention of teachers, employers and peers. The study also provided evidence that improving self-perception can be a self-reinforcing process (as evidenced, for example, by Rosemary’s statement: ‘I started to recognise . . .’). These findings are summarized in Fig. 16.2 above.

The Kling Study During 2008, Margaret Kling conducted seven exploratory case studies to inform her PhD research into the relationship between self-perception and vocational learning for people currently undertaking a formal training programme. It should be emphasized that the case studies are exploratory in nature, and were designed to identify key issues and dynamics that could inform a more comprehensive investigation into the topic. The seven learners were all enrolled in the same vocational class: a Certificate IV for Workplace Trainers and Assessors conducted through a private registered training organization. All 11 members of the class had been invited to participate in the study, but 4 declined. The seven participants comprised six males and one female, and were aged between 25 and 50 with a median age of 38 years. One of the participants was an Indigenous Australian, and two were recent immigrants. All of the participants were in full-time employment at the time of the study, and had been required to attend by their employers as part of industry restructure. This latter point is very important, because it means that the group almost certainly included people with low self-perception as learners who might not otherwise have accessed the training programme.

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Over the 6-month duration of the training programme, the researcher conducted informal reflective discussions on a weekly basis with the seven learners, both individually and collectively. Following the approach recommended by Minichiello, Aroni, and Hays (2008) for such groups, Kling promoted story-telling techniques to allow each participant to recount their previous and current learning experiences in a way that was non-threatening in that the respondents essentially chose what they did and did not want to voice. Story telling also allowed the level of self-perception to be highlighted through the actual feelings and activities of the learner. In addition, the researcher occasionally sought more direct feedback from the participants about their progress, with questions such as the following: How comfortable did you feel about your class this week? What did you find interesting or stimulating? What did you find difficult? How did you handle those difficulties? How did you feel about your progress this week? Is it getting easier as you go along? Why do you think that is? The information collected from the series of discussions was subjected to a thematic analysis (Leedy & Ormond, 2005) in which the full range of information was used to identify the common ‘themes’ (sets of related issues, suggestions and perspectives) that sit holistically across the data. This analysis was facilitated through the use of the Leximancer V2.5 software programme. The Kling study identified five overriding factors that appear to have a direct influence on an individual’s self-perception as a learner, and in turn on the quality of vocational learning in which they engage: 1. Positive feedback and reinforcement from the supervisor or employer in the workplace regarding the ability of the individual to learn, apply and problemsolve; 2. Positive feedback from work colleagues and friends regarding successful learning events or application of learned skills; 3. Recognition of prior learning, experiences and achievements into formal vocational learning programmes (that is, easy access to RPL processes); 4. Self-evident success in any activity that requires the application of learned knowledge and skill; and 5. Successful learning outcomes by peers who the individual rates as relatively equivalent in terms of skill and intellect. A major issue to emerge from the study was the extremely inhibiting effect of a fear of failure as a learner, and the subsequent loss of esteem that results. This is a real ‘Catch-22’ situation for vocational learners: in order to overcome fear of failure so they can develop the self-perception to become effective learners, they must achieve learning success, yet the fear of failure disables their productive engagement in learning, thereby inhibiting their capacity to achieve learning success! When Kling asked participants in her study how they thought they may be able to break this cycle, the most common suggestion was the direct intervention of people who they trust and value – such as workplace supervisors or successful colleagues – to work with them in a strong mentoring arrangement.

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Five other issues emerge from Kling’s exploratory analysis that have relevance to this chapter. First, the general perception of those interviewed was that the greater one’s self-perception as a learner, the more likely one is to enter into non-traditional learning environments and processes. In this regard, the increased emphasis on information technology as a teaching and learning tool actually was viewed by a majority of the participants, particularly those over 40 years of age, as something that highlighted their inadequacies rather than promoted effective learning. Second, the theoretical side of vocational learning – including anything that requires rote learning – appears to be the most feared by learners, and thus the one most likely to reinforce a poor self-perception. Alternatively, irrespective of how poor their self-perception might be, most of the respondents suggested that they generally were prepared to give practical learning events a try. Third, the way in which trainers ask questions and respond to answers appears to have a significant influence on self-perception. Self-perception is aroused if the learner feels they can answer a question – at least in part – and if they receive strong positive feedback for what they have to say, even if it is not initially correct. Alternatively, self-perception can be shattered if the learner is asked a question beyond his/her capacity to respond, and receives a curt or even negative response from the person who posed the question. Fourth, self-perception reportedly can be enhanced if the learner sees a personal benefit in engaging in the learning event. Achieving an outcome that is personally beneficial, it seems, may also make us feel more positive about our ability as a learner.

Peers

Work colleagues

Level of positive feedback and reinforcement

Level of achievement as a learner: -‘success’

Employers

Self perception

Willingness to risk failure and loss of status

Willingness to engage in vocational learning

Fig. 16.3 Factors impacting on self-perception

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Finally, change, particularly the continuous and fundamental change currently being experienced in workplaces, can be very destabilizing for learners and very undermining of their self-perception as an adaptive learner – particularly for older learners. The seven people interviewed in the study suggested that for them, selfperception was something that had to be ‘built over time and set in concrete so we can identify what it is we can do and are good at’. In summary, then, the Kling study – albeit exploratory and limited methodologically – suggests that self-perception as a learner is enhanced by positive reinforcement and feedback from peers, work colleagues and employers and personally identifiable success. As the level of self-perception increases, learners are more likely to expose themselves to the ‘risks’ associated with learning, and in particular, the risk of failure. This, in turn, impacts on the level of commitment to learning and on the learning processes with which the learner is willing to engage. The whole process is enhanced if the learner has the strong support of a credible and trusted mentor. These findings are summarized in Fig. 16.3 above.

The Smith – Clayton Study In 2008, Larry Smith (University of New England) and Berwyn Clayton (Victoria University) undertook a research study funded through the National Council for Vocational Education Research in Australia that focused on the experiences and perspectives of people who have used recognition of non-formal and informal learning for access to a formal vocational qualification. The study primarily was based on a series of semi-structured interviews (Borg & Gall, 1989), with the results being subjected to a thematic analysis. Smith and Clayton interviewed 72 learners across six Australian states and the Australian Capital Territory. The age of those interviewed ranged from 19 to 74, with 60 per cent of the sample being between 30 and 50 years of age. Almost a quarter of those interviewed were migrants or Indigenous Australians, and 58 per cent were female. Seven different industry groups were represented in the sample, with the largest contributions being from business (40 per cent) and hospitality and tourism (35 per cent). Of particular interest to the topic of this chapter is that the researchers asked several of the people they interviewed to work with them in constructing autobiographical case studies of their vocational learning experiences. Autobiographical case studies are written in the first person by the individuals themselves, and make a particular contribution to knowledge in that they highlight their feelings and thought processes at critical stages of their journey as learners (Creswell, 2005). Through the autobiographical case studies, participants described in graphic detail what their feelings were about themselves (both generally and as learners) at various times and in a range of circumstances related to their vocational learning. On the basis of that information, the researchers identified four major benefits of participation in the processes of recognition of prior learning (Smith & Clayton, 2009, p. 28). First, it provides older workers or people who had been out of the workforce

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for some time with a lever for effecting life and/or career path changes. Second, as they progressed through the recognition process, almost all of those interviewed stated that they had gained much more confidence in themselves as learners, and much more confidence in their capacity to resolve educational issues on their own. Third, every person interviewed indicated that perhaps the major benefit of having engaged in the process related to the significant increase in self-esteem he/she experienced. Recognition of prior learning allowed them to realize just how much they had already achieved, how much they already knew, and how much they felt they were now capable of doing. It had made them feel much more worthwhile as individuals. Finally, several of those interviewed stated that recognition of prior learning had taught them to use the process of critical reflection as a learning and problem-solving tool, which they considered had directly and positively influenced their subsequent learning and workplace effectiveness. The Smith & Clayton study, then, provides strong anecdotal evidence that selfperception can have a direct and significant influence on the nature and quality of vocational learning. Participants in the study consistently asserted that the greater their self-perception as both people and learners, the more confident they were that they could engage in effective learning, and the more confident they were that they would achieve productive outcomes from their learning. The critical process that emerges from the study for promoting self-perception is reflective practice. Reflective practice is a constructive process that involves interrogating our own experiences to make clear what we already know, and what we already have achieved. By undertaking a detailed investigation of our past, we can significantly improve our self-perception about who we are and what we can achieve by coming to realize that we know and have achieved much more than we previously thought, or would allow ourselves to believe.

Guided reflection: - what is already known - what has already been achieved - understanding of what can do

Support of trusted mentor: - friend - work colleague - employer - teacher

Self-perception: - as a person - as learner

Willingness to engage in learning

Learning success

Fig. 16.4 The relationship between reflective practice, self-perception and learning

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An important issue raised by Smith and Clayton throughout their report is that while reflective practice can be a very powerful process for improving selfperception and in turn engagement and success in learning, it is not something that learners with low self-perception generally will pursue by themselves. On the surface, reflective practice can appear very threatening to a learner, and so the role of a trusted mentor in guiding them through the process becomes critical (Smith & Clayton, 2009, p. 27). In this sense, the term ‘guided self-perception’ might be a more appropriate descriptor of the process. Figure 16.4 above summarizes the key findings from the Smith and Clayton study.

Towards a Model of Self-Perception and Vocational Learning The findings from each of the three studies reported in this chapter have been presented in Figs. 16.2, 16.3, and 16.4 in the form of dynamic models (Hoyle, 1995). A dynamic model is one that not only presents the components of the system or issue under consideration, but also the nature and direction of the interactions among those components. These three models have been combined or overlaid to form a single model of the relationship between self-perception and vocational learning, which is shown in Fig. 16.5 below. It is important to note that Fig. 16.5 is a

Learning experiences: - what is already known - what can already do - achievements and successes

Guided reflection

Positive feedback and reinforcement: - peers - work colleagues - employers - teachers

Self-perception - as a person - as a learner

Willingness to accept risk: - failure as a learner - loss of ‘status’

Willingness to engage in vocational learning

Learning success

Fig. 16.5 A model of the relationship between self-perception and vocational learning

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dynamic, self-reinforcing model: that is, the components of the model interact in ways that reinforce each other. Increasing the level of self-perception, for example, will increase the level of learning success, but that increase in learning success will – of itself – act to further increase the level of self-perception, and so the cycle continues. This is very important when looking to effect improvement, because it suggests that improvements in one part of the model may well result in a snowball effect across the entire model. As previously discussed, validating any model of the relationship between selfperception and vocational learning will require rigorous quantitative and qualitative longitudinal research over several years. Nevertheless, the model presented in Fig. 16.5 supports the findings of contemporary research, is compatible with the theories and discussions in the literature and makes both logical and intuitive sense. As a consequence, it would seem reasonable to use the model to develop recommended strategies for improving the vocational learning experience.

Influencing Learner Self-Perception The findings from the three research projects reported in this chapter, along with the insights gained from the literature, suggest that there are seven key dynamics impacting on the relationship between self-perception and vocational learning: 1. There is a mutually interactive cycle involving self-perception (how we view ourselves and believe the world views us), our feelings (emotions, including motivation) and behaviour (including our engagement in learning); 2. There is a strong, overt and mutual relationship between self-perception as a learner and learning success; 3. Self-perception as a learner is primarily influenced by our knowledge and understanding of our previous learning experiences and behaviours; 4. Self-perception is improved by previous acknowledged success as a learner; 5. Self-perception as a learner is increased by positive reinforcement and support from peers, work colleagues and employers; 6. The greater our self-perception as learners, the more ‘risk’ we are prepared to take with respect to our learning, and as a consequence, the greater our willingness to engage in a variety of learning events and environments; and 7. Guided reflection is the most powerful way of influencing self-perception as a learner. The model developed in this chapter for conveying the relationship between selfperception and vocational learning has two extrinsic leverage points: that is, there are two components which, with external intervention, can positively influence the system. These are guided self-refection and positive feedback and reinforcement – represented by the soft-cornered boxes in Fig. 16.5.

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Several studies have found that while self-reflection is an extremely powerful process that can significantly improve self-perception, the low perception of self initially held by many individuals will act to prevent them from engaging in any meaningful way in an exploration and evaluation of their existing knowledge and skills acquired through past experience. For this reason, the intervention of trusted ‘mentors’ can be critical to assisting the individuals to overcome their initial fears and engage in reflection on their learning achievements. Mentoring, however, is more than being a ‘trusted and caring friend’ – it is a highly developed skill, particularly when it is trying to influence something as fragile as an individual’s self-perception. For this reason, vocational learning systems will need to place an emphasis on formal mentor training, at least for vocational teachers and, one would suggest, interested employers as well. It would also seem important for RPL (recognition of prior learning) assessors to be trained in mentoring skills, because RPL assessment is arguably the most overt process in the training system for encouraging individuals to reflect positively on their past learning achievements. Most people require positive feedback and reinforcement from trusted others to validate the worth of their learning experiences and achievements. If teachers, employers, customers and valued colleagues praise us for what we know, can do or have achieved, we feel much more positive about ourselves as learners and as people. We think and behave much more positively and effectively in the future as a result. Alternatively, if we receive negative external feedback, we quickly retreat into our cognitive shells to protect us from experiencing what we perceive to be public humiliation and loss of personal status. Further, we actively avoid future engagement in learning events because of the fear of repeat failures. It is of particular importance to note that the literature consistently tells us that neutral feedback, or no feedback at all, generally is perceived to reflect a negative assessment of our learning achievements and capability. As a result, it is critical for vocational educators to take a strong formative approach to their interactions with vocational learners, giving them overt praise for what they have achieved, and responding in the most constructive ways possible when learners fail to meet standards or expectations. This is particularly important in the areas of assessment, feedback on task performance and in the way learner questions are answered.

Conclusion How we see and value ourselves, and how we believe the outside world sees and values us, is called self-perception, and it has a strong impact on the nature and quality of our vocational learning. If our self-perception is low, we generally will not risk failure by attempting to engage in formal learning events, particularly as our performance will be observed and evaluated by others. Alternatively, as our perception of ourselves as learners increases, we feel more confident about our capacity to succeed, and so our concerns about possible failure diminish. This relationship is mutually reinforcing: as

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our self-perception increases, our willingness to engage in learning increases and as a consequence our level of learning achievement increases, which in turn improves our self-perception as a learner, and so the cycle continues. A strong implication of this situation for vocational educators is that every effort must be taken to assist learners to improve their self-perception, and that means ensuring that they get regular and appropriate positive feedback on performance – that their successes are recognized and celebrated in ways that improve their self-image and self-belief. The critical process for long-term improvement in self-perception, however, is guided self-reflection – working with a mentor to understand and give meaning to what is already known, what has already been achieved, and as a consequence, what the learner can already do. Reflection is both a starting point and a tipping point for improving self-perception. Unless individuals are genuinely prepared to explore and evaluate their past experiences, no amount of intervention by vocational educators will lever an increase in self-perception, but once the exploration begins, each identified success unleashes feelings of pride and worth that impact positively on self-perception. Reflection is the point at which learners start to acknowledge who they are and what they can do, and to take responsibility for it. It is a passport to effective vocational learning.

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Illeris, R. (2003). Workplace learning and learning theory. Journal of Workplace Learning, 15(4), 167–178. Kling, M. (2004). Recurrent issues in learning: The affect on the future development of adults. Paper presented at the 3rd Asia-Pacific conference on diversity and equity in continuing $education and lifelong learning, Perth, WA: Curtin University. Knowles, M. (1990). The adult learner: A neglected species (3rd ed.). Houston: Gulf Publishing. Laird, J. D. (2007). Feeling: The perception of self. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Leedy, P. D., & Ormond, J. E. (2005). Practical research: Planning and design (8th ed.). New Jersey: Pearson Education. Livingstone, D. (2000). Exploring the icebergs of adult learning: Findings of the first Canadian survey of informal learning practices. NALL Working Paper #10, The Research Network for New Approaches to Lifelong Learning. Retrieved November 6, 2007, from <www.oise. utoronto.ca/depts/sese/csew/nall/res/10exploring.htm> Merriam, S., & Brockett, R. (1997). The adult learner and concepts of learning: The profession and practice of adult education. San Francisco: Jossey-bass. Minichiello, V., Aroni, R., & Hays, T. (2008). In-depth interviewing (3rd ed.). New York: Pearson/Prentice Hall. Misko, J., Beddie, F., & Smith, L. (2007). The recognition of non-formal and informal learning in Australia: Country background report prepared for the OECD activity on recognition of non-formal and informal learning. Canberra: Department of Education, Science and Training. Pratt, M. G. (2003). Disentangling collective identities. In J. T. Polzer (Ed.), Identity issues in groups (pp. 161–88). Amsterdam: Elsevier Science. Raelin, J. (2008). Work-based learning. New York: Jossy Bass/Wiley. Ryckmann, R. M. (1993). Theories of personality (5th ed.). Pacific Grove, CA: Brooks-Cole Publishing. Schon, D. (1983). The reflective practitioner: How professionals think in action. New York: Basic Books. Smith, L., & Clayton, B. (2009). Recognising non-formal and informal learning: Participant insights and perspectives. Adelaide: NCVER. Van Kleef, J. (2007). Strengthening PLAR: Integrating theory and practice in post-secondary education. Journal of Applied Research, 1(2), 1–22. September 2007, Retrieved October 14, 2007, from Velez, J. (2006). Motivating students by cultivating self-worth. The Agricultural Education Magazine, 78(4), 15–27. Whittaker, S., Whittaker, R., & Cleary, P. (2006). Understanding the transformative dimensions of RPL. In P. Andersson & J. Harris (Eds.), Retheorising the recognition of prior learning (pp. 301–319). Leicester: National Institute of Adult Continuing Education.

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Vocational Learning Futures Ralph Catts, Ian Falk and Ruth Wallace

Introduction We have presented chapters each of which contains something innovative or ‘new’ for vocational learning theory or practice. Most chapters present empirical research, while the others summarize or analyse existing research in new ways. Each chapter therefore contributes to the debate about what constitutes ‘new’ or ‘better’ vocational learning and hence has implications for vocational learning and about the provision of systems of technical and vocational education and training (TVET). The question for us to address in this chapter is what these findings suggest about the relevance of current theories of vocational learning. The starting point in this synthesis chapter is the title of the book which concerns vocational learning, not vocational education and training. Learning is about what happens when people acquire vocational skills and knowledge, while the latter has a more systemic flavour. That is, ‘learning’ puts the emphasis on what is done by the individual or group, while ‘education’ and ‘training’ are words denoting the systems within (and without) which ‘learning’ occurs. Successful vocational learning outcomes depend on two factors. The first is the system itself and the ways it is structured, how the system endorses and accredits skills and the degree to which it includes and recognizes learner outcomes. The second, and perhaps the more important, is the quality and success of the learning that occurs during vocational learning experiences. Improving vocational learning outcomes requires us to develop an understanding of what research tells us about two aspects of the learning experience namely what contributes to the nature and structure of the system, how well it caters to the needs of learners, industry and society, and what factors contribute to successful vocational learning. In order to be methodical and indeed transparent about the process we have engaged in through this book, this final chapter draws examples from each of the chapters to illustrate the implications for practice and for theory. The implications R. Catts (B) School of Education, University of Stirling, Stirling, FK9 4LA, Scotland, UK e-mail: [email protected]

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for practice are based on cross-cutting elements that we have identified. These themes are of two kinds: one set is the common themes that predominate across most chapters. The other is the distinctive themes that some authors put forward that are not common across other chapters, but nonetheless are significant for the purpose of this book. The nature of innovation is that it is different from common practice and hence may not yet be the common experience. The themes identified below are intended to throw light on future directions for vocational education systems and for vocational learning, based on the research described in the preceding chapters.

Implications for Theory For the past two decades the dominant paradigm has been the individual competencies framework, and in particular a curriculum model driven by assessment of observable competencies, with pedagogy seen as something that can be bypassed by assessment of competence. This model has driven government policies for TVET in Britain, Australia and parts of the USA and Canada, and has been influential in parts of continental Europe. It is an attractive model for policy makers who adopt a narrow mechanistic conception of competence. The competencies model is assumed to save training costs and to fast track the acquisition of credentials with an assumed consequence for workplace productivity. If the assumptions were found to be correct then there would be enhanced productivity within the TVET system and in addition improved productivity for industry. This model has come under consistent criticism (Illeris, 2007, pp. 134–137; Harris, Guthrie, Hobart, & Lundberg, 1995). These critiques are so well rehearsed that we will not repeat them here, particularly because our authors have focused on solutions supported by evidence, rather than critique of old practices. However, as was mentioned in Chapter 1, some policy makers still persist in attempts to accommodate the changing practices in TVET by striving to extend the definition of individual competence to embrace the application of skills to ‘new settings’ (National Quality Council, 2009). This at least recognizes that the notion of productivity in education and training has to be extended beyond the immediate context in which training (as opposed to learning) is delivered. As several authors have noted, learning to apply skills and knowledge in new settings requires pedagogy that fosters such application. However as Edwards and Miller illustrate a competencies model applies predetermined priorities on what is treated as privileged knowledge in workplace settings. They point out that the use of log books in workplace settings can specify learning outcomes. This approach can restrict both what is valued as learning and also how it is reported. While this approach fits a narrow conception of TVET ‘productivity’, it risks excluding valuable elements of what is learnt about vocation and does not address adequately learning in the workplace. In other words, this does not address the need for recontextualization of learning in order to achieve benefits for the learner and for the workplace.

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As we noted in Chapter 1, Evans, Guile, and Harris (2007) have moved forward the debate on transfer of skills through the development of the notion of recontextualization of knowledge and skills. The four forms of recontextualization advocated by Evans are as follows: • recontextualizing especially academic knowledge through the design of curricula to make it relevant to work; • pedagogic recontextualization through the explicit linking of contexts through teaching; • workplace recontextualization through which applications of knowledge are supported through mentorship; and • learner recontextualization through both shared experiences among learners and also the linking of prior experiences with new knowledge. The notion of recontextualization of knowledge incorporates the notion that learning is not contained within a specific setting such as a classroom, but occurs and also is applied across time and across locations. Several authors have illustrated this expanded sense of the spacio-temporal dimensions of learning. The spacio-cultural dimensions of learning are highlighted by Wallace in relation to the interface of first nation cultural knowledge with that of first world economic culture, and notes that a ‘harmonization’ process is necessary when considering the changes involved in recontextualizing learnings for new contexts. This is also illustrated by Flora and Emery in a similar context. Edwards and Miller noted that ‘many of the educational literacy practices around pedagogy and assessment were found to not be well aligned with those of the workplaces’, while Malcolm cautions about the ways the existing gender-biased system needs to be addressed in recontextualizing an innovative new theorization of vocational education and training. The empirical evidence presented in this book also substantiates the notion of learning as a collective process which occurs in a socio-cultural context (Fenwick, 2009). This collective construction of knowledge is advanced most coherently by Boreham and is also evidenced in various contexts by Catts, Flora and Emery and by Smith and Kling, who also identify that success by peers judged by the learner to be at a similar level of vocational knowledge can also provide encouragement. A useful analysis of vocational learning theories has been provided by Illeris (2002, 2007). He has proposed three dimensions of learning which place adult and vocational learning in a more comprehensive framework than is provided by the competencies movement. As is illustrated in Fig. 17.1, which is drawn from Illeris (2002, p. 237), institutional learning which is what is often equated with the notion of technical and vocational education and training is just one of the three dimensions. The other dimensions are termed collective learning supported by socialization theories of learning, and what he terms practice learning which he suggests is supported by activity theory (Engestrom, Miettinen, & Punamaki, 1999). While Illeris describes these three dimensions as creating a tension field, implying a competition between competing paradigms, our position supports the

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Fig. 17.1 Three dimensions of learning (after Illeris, 2002, 237)

conclusion Illeris adopts which is to seek to position vocational learning theory in the middle of this triangle, implying that it is feasible to draw upon all three dimensions as appropriate to address the current needs of learners. This raises a fundamental question about whether these three dimensions are inter-related and necessary to develop appropriate practice, or whether they represent epistemological choices that are to be made in order to determine appropriate pedagogic practice. Epistemology as applied to knowledge acquisition refers to ways in which knowledge is conceptualized and how it is accessed. Based on the evidence provided in this book, we conclude that the answer is that knowledge acquisition inevitably involves elements of all three dimensions. Hence, in the scholarship required for writing this book, the editors have necessarily engaged in a collective learning approach, drawn on prior knowledge, expressed their values and commitments and interacted in the production of this collection. It is for readers to gauge the competency of the performance across these domains. However, in each chapter the authors more or less illustrate the interaction of the three dimensions of learning, and rather than reiterate their evidence, we invite you, the reader, to reflect on the extent to which this is the case.

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Many of the chapters help us understand what it is about positioning vocational learning in the middle of the triangle that will facilitate innovation in vocational education and training. Field highlights the importance for change in life practices of an intense engagement in learning be it formal or informal, over an extended period of time, and involving social, practical and normally institutional elements. He contrasts this in particular with the short-term approach to much formal vocational learning provision. The innovative themes that we identify below articulate practices that draw upon the three dimensions of learning. In our minds, it is necessary to reconceive TVET as comprising the cognitive, emotional and social dimensions, but what are the implications of this reconceptualization for an innovative yet ‘doable’ way forward?

Implications for Practice: The Emerging Themes The concept of situated learning has been a central theme in discussions about vocational learning in the past two decades. In our view situated learning needs to be defined by connection to place, context, time, culture and language. This has implications especially for the socialization dimension of learning (Illeris, 2002) and requires the concept to be defined across situations by reference to recontextualization (Evans et al., 2007). The importance of viewing situated learning in this wider context is highlighted by reflection on the experience of first nation people in vocational learning. As Wallace indicates ‘there is a need to do better at connecting (institutional learning) to lifelong approaches to learning and local contexts. A connected approach to learning assists in understanding and negotiating ways to work through difficulty, take advantage of opportunities, manage change in capacity poor environments and build sustainability and formalize flexible partnerships’. The dimensions in which to consider the situatedness of learning are articulated by Flora and Emery who extend the metaphor of capitals to identify seven elements of what they term a ‘community capitals framework’. These dimensions include ‘natural capital’ which is of increased importance as we contemplate a sustainable future, a broad and inclusive definition of cultural capital, as well as economic and social capital. They also make explicit the other dimensions necessary for a viable community including infrastructure, political links and of course human capital. The notion of self-directed learning is argued by Göhlich and Schöpf to be a natural extension of situated learning. They conclude that to ‘conduct self-directed learning in an enterprise one needs the active commitment of individuals, appropriate didactic resources, and most importantly the embedding of situated self-directed learning in a broader context of organizational development. In other words the learning must be recontextualized so that it is not seen as a narrow training room function, but rather as part of the work process. The issue of didactic sources includes access to e-learning resources. In the information society, the role of teachers must less and less be one of information

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source, and more the role of information mediator and guide. This is potentially a transformational change in the provision of didactic sources – as substantial in terms of impact as the invention of the printing press. The emergence of access to digital sources of information means every person who becomes information literate can access, evaluate and transform information into their own contexts and disseminate their own learning to others. Wallace and Appo provide examples of the application of e-learning in primarily remote communities and especially in contexts involving Indigenous people. They conclude that learners need to be engaged in the development of culturally appropriate didactic sources. They conclude that e-learning and teaching require acknowledgement, understanding and valuing the different types of prior learner knowledge that exist in any learning situation and the social contexts in which the learners are based. The notion of generic skills has also been a central focus of debate in literature about vocational learning and has been criticized by some who take a particular view of situated learning. Recent writings by Evans et al. (2007) have reframed this debate and Canning provides evidence that supports the notion of recontextualized learning. He concludes that ‘the vocational aspects of learning can be better developed through engaging in the occupational practices of the industry’ rather than derived from a focus on generic skills distinct from contextualized learning. As he argues, ‘put simply, to teach core skills you need to start with the contextualized practices that you want to teach and use these multiple and collective experiences to help the student make the necessary connections and insights in order to learn’. Learning in his view will normally be active, embodied and particular to the context, and this approach will, over time, provide the necessary understanding required to develop expertise in the field. In other words, Canning is arguing for the three dimensions of learning outlined by Illeris, and also for a move away from the notion of transferable skills and towards the notion advanced by Evans et al. of recontextualized learning of vocational knowledge and skills. Boreham confronts the limitations of the curriculum model that focuses on individual competencies and highlights the importance of collective competency for the attainment of skills of relevance to work. He argues that collective competence • is not an objective attribute like height and weight, but is socially constructed; and that • to be competent implies being recognized as such by the members of the community to which one belongs. • For this reason, any analysis of competence must situate competence in the culture of the workplace; and • is context dependent – to be competent is to be competent in a particular setting. This implies that considerations of competence must take into account the complex interactions between the individual and the people and objects with which he/she interacts in the workplace itself. Competence can be an attribute of both individual and collective activity: lone practitioners, teams or entire organizations. Most

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people’s work is a complex of interlinked activities, some of which are performed individually, and some of which are performed collectively. These ideas proffer new ways of thinking about situatedness by emphasizing the social context in which learning is applied. The notion of social and personal identity as a crucial element that motivates and sustains learning is a central theme that has informed findings reported in these chapters. Guenther concludes on the basis of reports from learners that what is needed are ‘training delivery approaches that build in identity forming processes, supporting learning that encourages independent choice as well as interdependent contribution to the social and cultural sphere of learners’ lives’. Hence, like Boreham he concludes that both individual and collective learning outcomes are essential. Perhaps the emphasis that Guenther’s respondents placed on aspects of identity as outcomes of training indicates that the most important outcomes of effective vocational programmes are the enabling effects that result from an increased confidence to engage in informal learning in new social and workplace settings, and the self-esteem which gives people the confidence to learn the competencies they need in new situations. Associated with the notion of social identity is the role of social capital in vocational learning. Several authors present evidence of the implications of identity for a pedagogy that develops and uses social capital both to build a safe learning environment and to enable access to information and skills that are the province of practitioners’ networks. Balatti and Black conclude that ‘the benefits of learning are only realized outside the formal learning context. In other words, they are realized in the interactions that learners have in networks’. However they highlight the potential for other networks, and especially family networks, to be resistant to new knowledge that may change the dynamics within such networks and threaten the power of significant others. The implications for vocational educators are that in fostering formal learning the implications for changing practices in the other networks in which the learner lives and works have to be identified and supported. In other words, recontextualization of knowledge and skills has to be part of the pedagogic practice. The other application of social capital identified by Balatti and Black, and especially focused on by Catts, is the creation of social capital within the group of learners as a basis for providing a secure and supportive environment for learning. People in deprivation are especially in need of such social support as a necessary condition to support vocational learning. Workplace networks are not necessarily equitable environments. As Malcolm reminds us networks can exclude some workers and reinforce systemic discrimination based on gender. Age can also be a basis for discrimination in terms of access to vocational learning and employment opportunities as Catts indicates. Wallace contrasts the culture and social identity of formal institutional providers with the different culture of marginalized communities and highlights the need for institutional providers to respond and accommodate the diverse backgrounds and needs of people in order to respond to their perception of the underlying relationships between themselves and institutions. Smith and Kling argue that a positive self-perception as a learner is normally necessary before a person can engage successfully in formal

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vocational learning. They argue that this generally involves intentional and often structured intervention by ‘influential others’, particularly teachers, employers and peers. They claim that individuals are unlikely to initiate processes for improving their self-perception as learners by themselves. Field points to two contexts in which access to learning is restricted. The first affects those people who are not in paid employment including homemakers and the retired. They not only have reduced access to formal learning, but as jobless people they also lack participation in the learning culture of a workplace. Especially if they are living in poverty their social network may also be restricted as Catts points out. Second, some people live in stigmatized areas with few opportunities for expansive learning. Most policy and research focuses on issues of poverty, unemployment and health in defining and analysing such communities, and formal education provision is normally short term and functionalist, and aimed at so-called work skills. As Field suggests, ‘one way of improving learning in such disadvantaged and stigmatized communities is to expand and sustain opportunities for both informal and formal learning within them’. Several contributors have challenged common understanding of vocational learning. One of the starkest examples of the implications of different knowledge systems is the example of Balinese village life presented by Falk and Surata. They argue that western notions of industry in terms of agriculture, tourism and crafts are all subservient to, and are consequences of the central role that the Balinese form of Hinduism plays in the cultural and social life of the village. The social organization of the terraced rice paddies that derives from the religious culture then provides the community context for vocational knowledge. Falk and Surata provide other examples including a builder whose skills have been acquired from an intense ‘apprenticeship’ which involved no formal TVET system training, but rather the transmission of traditional knowledge mediated by religious ceremony. However, to this the builder adds new methods acquired from informal and largely western sources. Falk and Surata also identified a community leader of ceremony whose status was accredited by her standing in the community.

Implications for TVET Systems There are two areas of implications for TVET systems. One is what happens within the systems and one is what happens outside the systems. While many authors have focused on the implications for learners and for teachers, some have identified implications for the delivery of TVET including curricula and assessment. Kilpatrick et al. have identified the need for an interactive system that adjusts job descriptions and hence training provisions to be responsive to the prior knowledge and the aspirations of the available workforce. Although they found that holistic models for the provision of workplace competencies were less frequent than other models that they identified, they conclude that there will be more need for such systems that involve adjustments from learners, providers and the workplace. The changing nature of

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work has implications for the future of vocational education. Göhlich and Schöpf have illustrated the dramatic shift in the models for delivery of TVET in workplace settings within German industry which was in the past held up as a model for formal workplace training systems and as a contrasting model to the delivery in the Anglo-American off-site training models. Göhlich and Schöpf have described the innovative ways in which training in German industry has become responsive to ‘just in time’ requirements for skills, supported by flexible delivery packages and workplace mentoring. With a shift in emphasis towards continual enhancement and lifelong vocational learning, they argue that the model has become a focused justin-time system determined on an individual and largely informal basis supported in part by e-learning packages. As Malcolm notes ‘a challenge for TVET is how, among such diverse trajectories, durable knowledge can be sustained and validated’. A particular challenge she poses is whether ‘TVET can support organizations in addressing this by raising awareness in vocational education of the need for equitable and networked approaches to developing and sharing knowledge in favour of all parties implicated in knowledge work’. However, as has also been found in the preceding chapters, at least as much if not more vocational learning occurs outside the TVET system as within it. What are the implications of the TVET system for this ‘external learning’? Falk and Surata’s chapter suggests that TVET systems should set up ways of networking with the ‘informal’ TVET system to see what each sector can learn from the other. The success over time of the informal system therefore warrants close scrutiny in order to see what can be done to assist learners in each sector find value and outcome in the other. One obvious example which acts as a precedent is the recognition of prior learning, which stands as an example of the way the sectors can work together. It requires however, the formal system to recognize potential as demonstrated through informal learning, rather than adopting a rigid tick-box approach that is limited to only the practice dimension of knowledge. Other ways that are suggested include an emphasis on situatedness and how the system can manage recognition of this kind of learning, a matter that Wallace’s chapter suggests can happen through recognizing aspects of learners’ identities in practical ways through a harmonization process.

Implications for Assessment and Vocational Credentials The evidence presented in this book confirms that the assessment of individual competency is an insufficient basis for determining vocational learning outcomes. In workplaces competence is not determined only by what pieces of paper one can present, but by how one acts as a team member. It is not to deny that individual competencies may be a necessary component of vocational competence, but we conclude that the capacity to work together and to share competencies is essential for the demonstration of vocational competence. In most day-to-day settings it is the judgment of peers that decides whether a person can be relied upon as a member of a team. Even when a work activity depends upon an individual correctly

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performing a task, it is the judgement of peers that determines competence. To pick up on Boreham’s reference to crew resource management (CRM) the securing of doors on an aircraft, for example, is checked by a peer and it is his/her judgement that decides whether the crew and passengers can safely take off. Boreham has outlined the notion of collective competence and further research is needed into the implications of the findings for the assessment of vocational learning as a socio-cultural and temporal process involving collective learning. Such research may help to finally shift the focus from atomistic individual competencies models to theories of vocational learning and teaching that allow a more comprehensive understanding of how to provide effective outcomes from innovative vocational pedagogy. Some advocates of competency-based assessment of individual performance claim that it is for the workplace to determine whether the other dimensions of workplace competence are satisfactory, but this ignores the dominance in the valuing of individual competence that results from assessing only one aspect of the three dimensions of learning. One element of a more comprehensive model requires demonstrated competence in group processes and indeed the ability to participate in a group assessment of performance of a given task. In terms of the so-called generic skills, team work, communication and group problem solving are all elements that require collective competencies. If it is reasonable to expect that an assessment of individual competencies in a formal situation has some validity for performance in other settings, then equally it should be reasonable to require evidence of collective competence on the assumption that a person who can communicate and work with others in one setting is more likely to do so in another work or community context. If as Smith and Kling, and also Guenther suggest, enhanced confidence to learn and to adjust to new social and workplace settings is one of the most important outcomes of vocational learning experiences, then the challenge for determining how to credential vocational skills is far more complex than is implied by the assessment of individual competencies. In proposing the three dimensions of learning Illeris (2002) does not discuss assessment. We suggest that for vocational learning, assessment should also embrace three dimensions namely competence in practice, cognitive knowledge and collective competence. This then suggests a portfolio approach which would include one or more elements for each of these three dimensions of learning. While this is not amenable to either the assignment of an overall grade, or a declaration of competence based on practice, it would provide the learner, their peers and employers with a comprehensive assessment. As noted earlier in this chapter, our position is to seek to position vocational learning theory in the middle of the three-dimensional triangle. Through positioning the theory at this intersection, it implies that it is feasible to draw upon all three dimensions as appropriate to address the implications for the practice of vocational learning and teaching. In summary we conclude that innovative practice will integrate the three spheres of cognitive, emotional and social in learning practices which harmonize learners’ identities during and after the learning by applying the principles of situated learning found in these chapters.

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Conclusions The call from Cedefop to modernize vocational education and training (Cedefop, 2009) is driven by a desire to ‘maintain Europe’s competitiveness while preserving the European social model, coping with population ageing, reducing unemployment, tackling labour market skills needs and shortages and improving enterprises economic performance’ (Cedefop, 2009, p. 34). One is tempted to ask ‘would you like fries with that’? It is unrealistic to place the onus only on the TVET system to deliver these outcomes. Vocational learning is something people do either because they choose to or because they have to for income reasons, or because ‘that’s just the way it is’ in their situations, as many of our chapters show. And it relates their understanding of learning, knowledge structures, learning identity and the ways those elements are valued. While much vocational learning occurs outside the formal TVET model, as Malcolm observed, informal learning does not always lead to recognition and may result in inequalities where gender or other characteristics are related to the preferred or available forms of vocational learning. Encouraging ways for the systemic and non-systemic sectors to interact will result in better understanding about vocational learning and how to improve its effectiveness. The research reported in this book demonstrates that vocational learning is achieved by people who are enabled to access and use networks where information and skills are accessible. Notwithstanding central specifications of individual competency, people will learn what they wish to learn, and with whoever they choose to learn. Work in the broadest sense of the word is a social activity, and learning to work and to innovate are also normally best done in social contexts, rather than in isolation. We have confirmed that formal TVET models that enable people to develop and to maintain and expand their vocational skills need to be flexible and responsive to the capacities and needs of individuals, who bring to the formal TVET system a range of non-systemic identities and preconceptions all of which need careful learning management and ‘harmonization’, as Wallace puts it. The prescription of individual competencies has run its course, and efforts to renovate the competencies model of TVET by striving to include transfer of skills within a competencies framework simply defeats the central control of ‘standards’ that is the core of a competencies framework for TVET. Modernizing vocational education and training represents a challenge to the dominant TVET paradigm, because TVET systems need to become human systems that respond to and support people so that they can learn what they need to know in order to function effectively in a multitude of roles. The capacity of TVET teachers to facilitate and support learners and to engage with their wider life skills and social contexts represents the core capacity that TVET systems will rely upon to contribute to the achievement of the goals that Cedefop espouses. A responsive and flexible TVET system is an essential part of a competitive economy and, if the values of a civic society are to be retained and renewed in the globalized knowledge society, then vocational learning needs to be liberated from the rigidities of the

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individual competencies model. A significant part of this future flexibility must be a new emphasis on systematic and frequent interactions between formal and nonformal vocational learning sectors in order that both may benefit and grow through innovatory harmonizing practice.

References Cedefop. (2009). Modernising vocational education and training Luxembourg. Publications Office of the European Union, Luxembourg. Engestrom, Y., Miettinen, R., & Punamaki, R.-L. (1999). Perspectives on activity theory. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Evans, K., Guile, D., & Harris, J. (2007). Putting knowledge to work: Project report. London: Institute of Education. Fenwick, T. (2009). Making to measure? Reconsidering assessment in professional continuing education. Studies in Continuing Education, 31(3), 229–244. Harris, R., Guthrie, H., Hobart, B., & Lundberg, D. (1995). Competency-based education and training: Between a rock and a whirlpool. South Melbourne, VIC: Macmillan Education. Illeris, K. (2002). The three dimensions of learning. Leicester: NAICE. Illeris, K. (2007). How we learn (2nd ed.). Oxon: Routledge. National Quality Council. (2009). VET products for the 21st century: Final report of the joint steering committee of the NQC and the COAG skills and workforce development subgroup. Melbourne, TVET Australia.

Author Index

A Adams, D. W., 112 Agar, R., 106 Aldridge, F., 231 Alheit, P., 229 Allison, J., 66 Alto, R., 36, 50 Ambarawati, A., 46 Ambler, M., 114 Ananiadou, K., 217 Andersen, A. S., 229 Andrews, R., 74, 97–98 Antolin-Glenn, P., 87 Argyris, C., 160 Arnold, R., 148 Arnott, A., 34, 206 Aroni, R., 249 Aronson, J., 100 Arscott, J., 246 Ashton, D., 180 Augoustinos, M., 207 B Bahr, M., 206 Balatti, J., 4, 15, 17, 34, 43, 63–74, 206, 265 Baron, S., 65 Barton, D., 193 Bateman, A., 246 Bates, F., 44 Bauer, J., 245 Beddie, F., 244, 247–248 Bedggood, M., 246 Béduwé, C., 4 Behrens, K., 14 Berger, P. L., 12, 207 Bexley, E., 66 Biesta, G., 237, 239 Billett, S., 22, 25, 130, 136, 168 Bjoernavold, J., 147

Black, A., 45 Blackman, R., 168 Black, S., 34, 63–74, 265 Black, S. S., 114 Blake, D., 23 Blom, K., 246 Bloomer, M., 192, 194 Boreham, N. C., 4, 77–90, 186, 261, 264–265, 268 Borgatti, S. P., 74 Borg, W., 251 Bourke, E., 207 Bowles, M. S., 98 Bowman, K., 168, 246 Boyer, E. L., 114 Boyle, A., 98, 105 Brass, D., 74 Brassett-Grundy, A., 66, 208 Bray, F., 130, 134 Bregendahl, C., 114–115, 117 Breiter, C., 147 Briscoe, J. P., 221 Brockett, R., 245 Brown, J. S., 146–147 Brown, P., 208 Brubaker, R., 243 Butler, J., 38 Bynner, J., 66, 208 C Canning, R., 6, 179–189, 193, 264 Casey, C., 114 Catts, R., 1–8, 217–227, 259–270 Chaiklin, S., 146 Chambers, E., 100 Chang, N.-Y., 65 Chan, K., 245 Chapman, S., 167 Child, B. J., 112

R. Catts et al. (eds.), Vocational Learning, Technical and Vocational Education and Training: Issues, Concerns and Prospects 14, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-1539-4,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2011

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272 Christie, M., 16 Clancey, W., 146 Clarke, L., 188 Clayton, B., 244, 246, 251–253 Clayton, P., 219 Cleary, P., 246 Clemans, A., 22, 168, 208 Coleman, D., 65 Coleman, J. S., 66–67 Cole, W. M., 114 Colinvaux, P., 34, 43 Colley, H., 192, 195, 231 Collins, A., 146 Connors, C., 166 Cooper, F., 243 Cornell, S., 115 Côté, J., 208, 212–213 Côté, S., 208 Cozine, M., 169 Crenshaw, K., 15 Creswell, J., 251 Crossan, B., 222, 226 Crowther, I., 246 Cunliffe, A., 168 Curry, C., 106 Curtin, P., 208 Curtis, D., 206 Czarniawska, B., 84–85 D Daft, R. L., 87 Davis, J., 112 Dehnbostel, P., 152 DePryck, K., 219 Descy, P., 1–2 Devos, A., 130 Dewey, J., 66, 74 Dika, S., 65 Dilger, B., 153–154, 161 Diment, K., 192 Djanali, S., 37 Djojonegoro, W., 37, 56 Doherty, C., 34 Dohmen, G., 148 Donne, J., 74 Duckett, S., 166 Duguid, P., 146 Dutt, S., 130 E Edwards, R., 191–201 Eide, D., 84–85

Author Index Elliott, A., 207 Ellis, H. C., 112 Emery, M., 4, 111–125, 261, 263 Engestrom, Y., 261 Erikson, E., 207, 211 Erpenbeck, J., 148 Esselink, B., 128 Euler, D., 152, 161 Evans, K., 3, 6–7, 217, 261, 263–264 F Fairclough, N., 129 Falk, I., 1–8, 14–15, 17–18, 33–59, 64–66, 206, 259–270 Farr, J., 66 Faulkner, W., 132 Feinstein, L., 208 Felstead, A., 135, 180, 240 Felton-Busch, C., 168 Fenwick, T., 130–131, 136, 139, 261 Fernandez, R., 180 Festner, D., 245 Fey, S., 43, 115, 117–121, 123 Field, J., 6, 13, 19, 27, 65, 222, 229–242, 263, 266 Flora, C. B., 4, 43, 111–125, 261, 263 Flora, J. L., 119 Forte, R. F., 243 Franks, P., 167 Fraser, J., 129, 135 Freebody, P., 34 Fugate, M., 221 Fukuyama, F., 17 Fuller, A., 187, 240 Funnell, B., 14 G Gallacher, J., 222 Gall, M., 251 Garlick, S., 168 Gee, J., 193 Gee, J. P., 11–12, 15–21, 28, 129, 140 Gelade, S., 220, 222–223 Geldermann, B., 145, 155–157, 161–162 Gerber, R., 220 Gerstenmaier, J., 146 Giddens, A., 45 Gillard, H., 130 Gilovich, T., 244 Ginnett, R. C., 89 Gladwin, C., 42 Glover, J., 130 Goddard, R., 66

Author Index Göhlich, M., 3, 5, 145–162, 263, 267 Goldberger, S., 167 Golding, B., 64 Gold, M., 129, 135 Gomez Tutor, C., 148 Goodale, B., 168 Gorringe, S., 66 Granovetter, M. S., 74 Green, A., 180 Green, F., 180 Grinder, D. A., 112 Grootaert, C., 17, 19 Gruber, H., 245 Grugulis, I., 188 Guenther, J., 5–6, 34, 36, 105, 205–214 Guile, D., 261 Gustavsson, B., 84 Guthrie, H., 260 H Hager, P., 130, 245 Hall, D. T., 221 Hall, P., 128 Hall, R., 169 Halpern, D., 224 Hamilton, M., 193 Hammond, C., 66, 208 Hancock, L., 221, 227 Hanson, S., 130 Hardy, I., 206 Harris, J., 261 Harrison, L., 53 Harris, R., 260 Harteis, C., 245 Hartley, R., 245 Hassmiller, S., 169 Hattam, R., 13–14 Hays, T., 249 Haythornthwaite, C., 74, 98 Hayward, G., 180 Healy, K., 166 Heid, H., 245 Henninger, M., 147 Heritage, J., 34 Herman, C., 135 Hesketh, A., 208 Hinsz, V. B., 80 Hirabayashi, E., 43 Hobart, B., 260 Hodgson, B., 135 Hodkinson, H., 229, 231, 242 Hodkinson, P., 237

273 Hofstede, G., 88 Hongoro, C., 166 Howcroft, D., 130 Howes, M., 42 Hoyle, R. H., 253 Hughes, E., 246 Hughes, J., 45–46 Hughes, P., 45 Hugonnier, B., 42 Hull, G., 140 I Illeris, K., 260–264, 268 Illeris, R., 245 Isaac, I., 36 Ivanic, R., 191, 193 J James, D., 192, 237 Jewson, N., 240 Johns, S., 165–175 Johnstone, K., 36 K Kalt, J. P., 115 Kammerer, J., 148 Kearns, P., 66, 168 Keep, E., 188 Keltner, D., 244 Khattab, N., 66 Kilpatrick, S., 3, 5, 17–18, 33, 44, 64, 165–175, 266 Kirkup, G., 135 Klieber, F., 153–154 Kling, M., 4, 6, 243–256, 261, 265, 268 Knight, B., 36, 246 Knobel, M., 14, 193 Knowles, M., 148, 245 Korte, R., 5, 7 Korte, R. F. A., 226 Kraak, A., 187 Krakau, U., 152 Kral, I., 33 Kramer, J., 219 Krauss, A., 155 Kress, G., 193 Kuras, M. L., 23 L Labianca, G., 74 Lacey, J., 66 Laird, J. D., 244

274 Lambe, P., 230–231, 235, 242 Lambert, T., 36 Lang, I., 181 Lankshear, C., 14, 140, 193 Lansing, S., 41–42, 45, 53, 58 Laurillard, D., 97 Lave, J., 12, 97, 146 Law, L. C., 146 Lawn, M., 138–139 Lawson, V., 130 Leedy, P. D., 249 Leonard, R., 45, 56 Leont’ev, A. N., 84 Le, Q., 165, 169 Lin, I., 168 Liou, T.-Y., 65 Livingstone, D., 245 Lomawaima, K. T., 112 Lucardie, D., 206 Lundberg, D., 260 Lyles, M. A., 85 M Maclean, N., 77, 81–88, 102 Macleod, F., 230–231, 235, 242 Macrae, H., 208 Malcolm, I., 127–140 Mandl, H., 146–147 Marginson, S., 66 Marshall, C., 14 Marshall, G., 46, 50 Maxwell, G., 206 McArdle, S., 221 McDermott, R., 166 McDonald, R., 98 McDowell, L., 130 McKenna, S., 206 McPake, B., 166 McSkeane, E. M., 186 Meagher, G., 166 Mehra, A., 74 Mendieta, E., 15 Merriam, S., 245 Merrill, B., 222 Merrill, N., 229 Miettinen, R., 261 Millar, P., 34, 165, 169 Miller, C., 99 Miller, J., 6, 45 Miller, K., 191–201 Minichiello, V., 249 Mirchandani, K., 131

Author Index Mische, A., 87 Misko, J., 244, 247–248 Mitchell, J., 206 Mitev, N., 130 Mohr, B., 155–156 Monk, R., 189 Morrison, E., 167 Muktasam, I., 46 N Narayan, D., 17, 45 Nisbett, R., 244 Noonan, P., 206 Norman, D. O., 23 Nussbaum, M., 130 Nyhan Jones, V., 17 O O’Callaghan, K., 98 O’Dea, K., 166 Olesen, H. S., 229 O’Neil, E., 167 Onyx, J., 45, 56 Ormond, J. E., 249 Owen, W., 43 P Pacza, T., 169 Paetzold, G., 161 Pakoa, F., 14 Paloniemi, S., 229 Pashen, D., 168 Patrick, I., 46 Pavlova, M., 130 Pea, R., 146 Plat, M., 87 Plowman, L., 193 Polestico, R., 36 Pollard, A., 241 Pongratz, H. J., 145 Portes, A., 67–68 Pratt, M. G., 243 Preston, J., 66, 208 Pringle, R., 39 Print, M., 65 Punamaki, R.-L., 261 Putnam, R. D., 17 R Raelin, J., 246 Raffe, D., 179, 186

Author Index Rauner, F., 146 Reinmann-Rothmeier, G., 147 Rennie, J., 14 Richardson, H., 130 Richardson, J., 105 Richardson, S., 166, 206 Rickes, M., 152 Robert, K. H., 82, 84, 87 Rogalski, J., 87 Roos, J., 85 Rosenberg, M., 25 Rossman, G. B., 14 Routley, G., 165–175 Ryckmann, R. M., 245 S Sassen, S., 130 Satchwell, C., 199 Sausele, I., 158, 162 Scardamalia, M., 147 Schaber, E., 105 Schaeler, R., 128 Schein, E., 87 Schein, E. H., 161 Schmidt, B., 166, 219, 221 Schoen, D., 160 Schon, D., 246 Schuller, T., 65–66, 208, 221 Schwenck, C. R., 85 Scott, D., 11–12, 15 Searle, J., 14 Seddon, T., 22, 25, 168 Sepe, J., 42 Severing, E., 145, 155–157 Showstack, J., 167 Simmons, R., 46, 187 Singh, K., 65 Sloane, P. F. E., 153–154, 161 Slocum, K., 85 Smith, D. J., 166 Smith, L., 243–256 Smith, P., 4, 6, 23 Smith, T., 206 Smyth, J., 13–14, 65 Solomon, S., 168, 246 Somerville, M., 136, 208 Spiers, H., 206 Stahl, T., 145 Stasz, C., 205 Steele, L., 169 Stein, W. J., 114

275 Stephen, C., 193 Stone, W., 45–46 Strawn, C., 66 Street, B., 240 Surowiecki, J., 34 T Taylor, A., 187 Tedder, M., 192, 239, 242 Teese, R., 206 Tennant, M., 169 Te Riele, K., 13 Tett, L., 66 Tiemeyer, E., 154 Tuckett, A., 231 Turnbull, B., 14 Twigger-Ross, C., 16 U Ungarian, L., 246 Unterhalter, E., 130 Unwin, L., 181, 187, 240 Uzell, D., 16 V Van Kleef, J., 246 Velez, J., 246–247 Von Krogh, G., 85 Voß, G., 145 W Waite, E., 217 Walker, I., 207 Wallace, R., 1–8, 11–29, 36, 95–109, 259–270 Warhurst, C., 188 Warren, D., 43 Waters, L., 221 Watt-Malcolm, B., 187 Weber, M., 161 Weick, K. E., 83–84, 87 Welsh, H., 180 Wenger, E., 12–13, 16–17, 97, 146, 208 West, L., 229 Wheelahan, L., 66 Whitelegg, E., 135 Whittaker, R., 246 Whittaker, S., 246 Wignell, P., 14 Williams, S., 208 Willis, P., 65 Winch, C., 188

276 Winkler, K., 147 Woo, L., 167 Woolcock, M., 17, 19, 45 Wright, S., 205 Wulf, C., 150

Author Index Y Young, M., 105, 246 Z Zirfas, J., 148, 150, 154.

Subject Index

A Agency, 13, 18, 25–26, 108, 112, 117, 120, 130, 194, 223, 225, 230–232, 239, 241 Apprenticeship, 49–50, 77, 135–136, 181–182, 184–185, 187, 266 Assessment, 6, 28, 67, 73, 78, 102, 105, 107–108, 136, 179–181, 183–187, 189, 191–192, 195, 197–198, 201, 209, 223, 234, 241, 255, 260–261, 266–270 Assets of ability, 162 Australia, 3, 14, 33–34, 55–56, 65, 74, 95–96, 99, 102–103, 166–169, 171–172, 206–207, 209–211, 214, 217–219, 222, 244, 246–247, 251, 260

Ceremony, 40, 48–49, 51–52, 57, 266 Childcare, 191–199, 201, 223 Community, 4–5, 12–29, 34, 41, 43–44, 46–50, 53–54, 63–67, 74, 79, 95–99, 101–109, 111, 114–120, 122–125, 147, 165–169, 171–172, 174–175, 206–209, 211–212, 222–223, 225–227, 232–233, 236, 263–264, 266, 268 Competence, 1, 4, 54, 77–90, 102–103, 107, 145, 149, 152–153, 156, 159–160, 181, 189, 193, 208, 213, 260, 264, 267–268 Co-production, 23–24, 26–27, 29, 97–98, 107–108 Cultural assets, 117

B Bali, 35, 38–42, 45–48, 50–52, 54–56 Bottom-up, 35–36, 41–44, 52–54, 56, 59, 152

D Dialogicity, 161 Digital technologies, 97, 109, 193

C Capital built, 114, 117–118, 121, 123–124 financial, 117–118, 120–122, 124–125 human, 3, 64, 66–67, 114, 116, 118–122, 124–125, 221, 263 identity, 208 social, 3, 7, 17–18, 21, 33–34, 40, 43–47, 52, 54, 56, 58, 63–68, 73–74, 114, 116–119, 121–125, 206–208, 219, 221, 224–227, 237–238, 241, 263 Career careers, 78, 170, 191–201 path, 165–167, 171, 173–174, 252 learning, 78, 191–201

E Ecosystems, 43, 167, 169–170, 172 Ecotone, 34, 44 Education adult, 11–12, 14, 25–28, 105, 222, 229–231, 233 adult learning, 7, 34, 65, 205, 208, 211, 217–227, 229, 231, 235, 245 formal, 11–15, 17, 20, 24–28, 96, 168, 208, 230, 232–236, 239, 266 Educational institutions, 11–15, 17–21, 23–24, 26–28, 37, 66, 98, 109, 114, 156, 171 Employability, 186–188, 208, 214, 218, 221 skills, 186, 208, 227 Enacted learner identity, 14, 17–18, 22, 24

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278 Experience/s/d, 3–7, 11, 13–28, 44, 49, 54, 63–69, 71–74, 83–85, 87, 95–97, 99, 105–106, 108–109, 112–113, 119, 128, 133–134, 136–140, 146, 149, 151, 154, 156, 161, 182–184, 188–189, 198–199, 206–208, 212–213, 220–221, 223–226, 230–233, 236–241, 245–249, 251–256, 259–264, 268 relatedness, 161 G Gender, 5, 13, 15, 25, 41, 54, 56, 63, 112, 127–140, 179, 181–182, 247, 261, 265, 269 German Germany, 136, 139, 145–148, 151–152, 161 TVET, 145–162 Globalization, 127–132, 135–136, 138–140 Grassroots, 34–35, 43–44, 53–54, 56 H Health, 14, 64–65, 71–73, 116, 121, 124–125, 165–175, 182, 195, 220–222, 225–226, 234, 238, 266 I Identity aboriginal, 207 enacted learner, 14, 17–18, 22, 24 change, 211–213 cultural, 5, 35, 137, 213 formation, 205–206, 208, 211, 213–214 group, 207, 226 individual, 44, 207 learner, 14–15, 17–18, 20, 22, 26, 28 male, 133–134 personal, 207, 212, 226–227, 265 theory, 6 resources, 16, 18–19, 26, 44, 64, 66, 68–74 school based, 19 self-, 84, 231–232, 235 situated, 15 social, 4–5, 7, 208, 213, 221, 226–227, 243, 265 transformation, 213 tribal, 112 VET, 127–140 work, 135, 137–138, 140, 208, 239 Individualism, 79 Indonesia, 33, 35–39, 50–51, 55–56

Subject Index Industrial colonization, 41 Informal vocational learning, 2 Innovation, 1–8, 33–59, 108, 118, 125, 151, 159, 168, 175, 201, 240, 260, 263 Interactive Field/s, 44, 57–59 Interactivity, 34, 36–47, 50, 52–53, 57, 59 J Job Training, 114, 181 K Knowledge economy, 1, 96, 129, 131–132, 139 work, 26, 127–140, 267 based skilled work, 162 L Learner enacted identity, 14, 17–18, 22, 24 identity, 14–15, 17–18, 20, 22, 26, 28 Learners disenfranchised, 11–17, 23–28 disengaged, 13, 15 mature adult, 217–227 Learning flexible, 96, 99–100, 102, 107 formal, 2, 11, 20, 25, 28–29, 54, 72, 74, 147, 150, 158, 222, 225, 231, 235–238, 241, 244–245, 247–248, 251, 255, 265–267, 269 careers, 78, 191–201 networks, 35, 43–44, 47, 59, 71 lifelong, 13–14, 63, 66, 72, 147, 166, 230, 232, 235, 241 support, 34, 147, 158, 162, 237, 261 pedagogical theory, 148–150 recognition of prior learning (rpl), 246, 249, 251–252, 267 self-directed, 5, 88, 146–158, 161–162, 263 situated, 2, 12, 28, 95, 97, 109, 146–148, 151, 157–162, 263–264, 268 social constructions of, 14 vocational, 2–8, 33–35, 37–38, 40, 42, 47, 50, 52, 56, 105, 111, 116, 119, 124, 134–135, 138, 179, 205–206, 210–211, 214, 229, 243, 246–256, 259–270 workplace, 5, 130, 229–242 Literacy, 6, 15, 34, 63–66, 70–73, 96, 102, 105, 181–182, 184, 191–201, 208, 217, 227, 261

Subject Index Localisation, 127–129, 131–135, 137–139 Localiers, 128–129, 135, 137–138, 140 M Margins, 44, 66, 138 Mature adult learners, 217–227 Micro level interactions, 46 N Native american/s, 86, 111–125 Networks, 4, 7–8, 12, 17, 19–21, 23, 27, 29, 35, 40–41, 43–45, 47–49, 53–54, 57–59, 63–74, 78, 86, 103–104, 113, 118, 147, 221–226, 237–238, 265, 269 Numeracy, 6, 34, 63, 65, 179, 181–182, 184–185, 187–188, 208, 217, 227 P Participation, 1, 14–16, 19, 21, 24–26, 46, 64, 67, 70, 102, 107, 148, 168, 182, 193, 196, 199–201, 206, 219, 222, 230–231, 233, 235–236, 238, 241, 247, 251, 266 Partnerships, 11–29, 66, 74, 78, 97–99, 102, 106, 168, 170–171, 263 Patterns, 52, 70, 87, 100, 118, 131–132, 136, 160, 162, 182, 196, 211, 230–231 Pedagogy pedagogical learning theory, 148–151 pedagogical practice, 71, 116, 157, 227 Performativity, 4, 33–59 Performative, 160–161 Policies, 1, 27, 34–35, 42, 44, 50, 205, 218–220, 230, 232, 235, 260 Process-oriented perspective, 154, 162 Program effectiveness, 175, 209 Psychology, 222, 233, 244 R Recognition of prior learning (RPL), 246, 249, 251–252, 255 Re-entry, 185, 205, 221, 223–224, 227 Relatedness, 43, 161 S Situated learning, 2, 12, 28, 95, 97, 109, 146–148, 151, 157–162, 263–264, 268 vocational learning, 47 Situational perspectives, 159

279 Skills core, 179–189, 264 key, 180–181, 196 shortages, 3, 24, 101, 167, 169, 174–175, 269 Social capital, 3, 7, 17–18, 21, 33–34, 40, 43–47, 52, 54, 56–58, 64–69, 73–74, 114, 116, 118–119, 121–125, 206, 208, 219, 221, 224–227, 237–238, 241, 263, 265 constructions of learning, 14 identity, 4–5, 7, 208, 213, 221, 226–227, 243, 265 relationships, 67 Socioeconomics, 73 T Teamwork, 77–78, 80 Ties bonding, 19, 45, 57, 238 bridging, 19, 21, 46 linking, 21, 45–46 Top-down, approaches, 55 Tribal College, 111, 113–122, 124–125 U Ubak System, 42, 44 V VET TVET System, 1–2, 8, 33–59, 168, 260, 266–267, 269 Vocational vocational education, 1–2, 5–6, 18, 36–37, 65–66, 90, 96, 99–100, 105, 112, 115–119, 125, 134–135, 140, 145–147, 149, 151–155, 161–162, 169, 179–189, 191, 205–206, 209, 229, 243, 246–247, 251, 259–261, 263, 267, 269 vocational education and training (VET), 1–2, 36, 65, 77, 90, 96, 99, 134–135, 147, 149, 153–155, 161, 169, 205, 209, 243, 259, 261, 263, 269 vocational learning, 2–8, 33–35, 37–38, 40, 42, 47, 50, 52, 56, 105, 111, 116, 119, 124, 134–135, 138, 179, 205–206, 210–211, 214, 229, 243, 246–256, 259–270 W Workforce development, 95–109 Workplace learning, 5, 130, 229, 242, 246