Beyond the Boundaries: a Transdisciplinary Approach to Learning and Teaching : A Transdisciplinary Approach to Learning and Teaching 9780313084126, 9780897899161

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Beyond the Boundaries A Transdisciplinary Approach to Learning and Teaching EDITED BY DOUGLAS KAUFMAN, DAVID M. MOSS, AND TERRY A. OSBORN

PRAEGER

Westport, Connecticut London

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Beyond the boundaries: a transdisciplinary approach to learning and teaching / edited by Douglas Kaufman, David M. Moss, and Terry A. Osborn. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-89789-916-4 (alk. paper) 1. High school teaching—United States. 2. Education, Secondary—Curricula— United States. 3. Interdisciplinary approach in education—United States. I. Kaufman, Douglas, 1963- II. Moss, David M. III. Osborn, Terry A., 1966LB1607.5.B49 2003 373.1102

2003045766

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data is available. Copyright © 2003 by Douglas Kaufman, David M. Moss, and Terry A. Osborn All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, by any process or technique, without the express written consent of the publisher. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2003045766 ISBN: 0-89789-916-4 First published in 2003 Praeger Publishers, 88 Post Road West, Westport, CT 06881 An imprint of Greenwood Publishing Group, Inc. www.praeger.com Printed in the United States of America

The paper used in this book complies with the Permanent Paper Standard issued by the National Information Standards Organization (Z39.48-1984).

10 987654321

From Doug For Garry and Leigh From David For Tom Glover, an artist and philosopher who thinks and lives beyond the boundaries From Terry In memory of Mabel H. Osborn

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Contents

Illustrations

ix

Acknowledgments

xi

1

Going beyond the Boundaries David M. Moss, Terry A. Osborn, and Douglas Kaufman

2

Educational Foundations: Building a Case for Communication Arthur Costigan

3

Not-So-Foreign Languages: The Critical Inquiry Approach to Moving beyond Disciplines Terry A. Osborn

33

The End of Science... and Where Other Disciplines Begin: Exploring the Nature of Science David M. Moss

47

4

1 13

5

Rethinking Secondary Mathematics Teacher Preparation Alice F. Artzt and Frances R. Curcio with Alan Sultan and Tara Wachter

6

Don't Mourn; Organize! Transdisciplinary Social Studies Education David Gerwin

81

Reading the World and Writing to Learn: Lessons from Writers about Creating Transdisciplinary Inquiry Douglas Kaufman

97

7

69

VIII

Contents

8 Transdisciplinary Approaches in the Education of ELLs Mileidis Gort

117

9 Murals as Interdisciplinary Teaching Rikki Asher

131

10 Learning to Let Go: Student Participation in the Development of an Integrated English Curriculum Wendy J. Glenn

145

11 Where Do We Go When We Step beyond the Boundaries? Douglas Kaufman, Terry A. Osborn, and David M. Moss

155

Index

167

About the Contributors

171

Illustrations

FIGURES 3.1 The Critical Language Inquiry Cycle

40

7.1 A "Backward" Focus for Interdisciplinary Learning

103

7.2 Using a Discipline as a Lens of Discovery

105

7.3 Using a Discipline to Learn the Discipline

106

7.4 A Transdisciplinary Model of Learning

110

9.1 The Procession Mural

143

TABLE 7.1 Jacobs's (1989) Flight unit associations

100

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Acknowledgments

We are grateful to many who have contributed ideas and advice as we assembled this text. Timothy Reagan, Thomas DeFranco, Robert Lonning, and Thomas P. Weinland have been supportive and laid a significant amount of groundwork in the area we hope to build upon. Our colleagues in the Department of Curriculum and Instruction are a wonderful and supportive group of scholars with whom it is an honor to serve and teach. In addition, our students have provided us with countless sources of inspiration, and we wish them the best in their professional endeavors. Marie Ellen Larcada at Greenwood Press was particularly helpful in navigating the particulars of publication. Finally, we wish to thank our spouses and families: Jennifer, Rebecca, Emily, Korina, Dina, Joshua, and Juliana.

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Chapter 1

Going beyond the Boundaries David M. Moss, Terry A. Osborn, and Douglas Kaufman

Excitement builds in the waning weeks of the school year. The 10th grade students have been looking forward to the outdoor ecology unit since their teacher first mentioned it months ago. Until now, students have methodologically worked their way through their biology text, beginning with the introductory chapter on cells. They have covered the sections on animal physiology, including earthworms and frogs, and have studied the various systems of the human body. This unit will be different. Breaking free from the confines of their class, students will have the opportunity to examine their schoolyard environment and apply what they have learned throughout the year by pursuing their own questions. Pressed for time this late in the year, the teacher is unable to do everything she would like but is committed to giving these students a memorable experience to finish off the year. She knows that because students will be exploring questions of interest to them in their everyday environment, they will likely be motivated and see relevance in their work. As an added bonus, she anticipates that classroom management issues will be kept to a minimum. They begin their work by drawing a map of the school yard. The teacher insists that the map must be to scale, and she sees a nice connection with mathematics. In fact, she recalls from a professional development day that mapmaking directly supports the social studies curriculum as well, so all the better. Next, she has the students catalogue the major plant species by name and frequency. She decides to input this data on a spreadsheet to tie in nicely with the scope and sequence of the district's technology goals. Of course, once that data is on the computer, it can easily be graphed—more math. At some point for homework, she'll require students to read the pages from the text that deal with the various biomes of our planet, and then they can look for similarities between their local environment and the other

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ecosystems around the world. If it weren't so late in the year it would have been exciting for her students to write letters to other students who actually live in those far-off places and to see what life is like for them. The English and social studies faculty surely would have been happy with that idea. Who knows? They could have even received a letter written in another language that could have been translated in cooperation with the foreign language department. For their final project, students will be required to write and present a conservation plan for the school designed to protect its precious outdoor resources. They will get practical experience in writing and presenting their ideas in a real-world context. This teacher is quite certain that this integrated unit will be one that students will remember for years. There are decidedly many positive facets of the final unit of the school year presented in this vignette, particularly the active nature of the lessons and the numerous connections across the curriculum. Yet, let us delve deeper into the various notions embedded within it so that we can begin to consider the underlying premises. First, time emerges as a critical factor. The teacher laments the fact that a unit such as this comes at the end of the year, and it is implied that the basics must be covered before students can adequately apply their knowledge. The challenge of never being given enough time to do what we would like to do with our students plagues all educators, but none more so than those who view their curriculum as something to be covered. Moving beyond the coverage-of-curriculum mentality portrayed in this passage would surely be a positive step, and we must be prepared to take that step—in fact, a great leap—if we are to foster meaningful educational reform. Progress demands that we view curriculum development from an entirely fresh perspective, one that moves beyond a compilation of information and skills to be methodically delivered to students. Perhaps the notion of educational reform that we propose in this book is best characterized by shifting the emphasis away from teaching and toward learning. Within the brief vignette, the benefits of this shift are readily apparent to the teacher in terms of both increased student motivation and relevance. This teacher has already covered the so-called basics and finally feels ready to "let go" by encouraging her students to pursue their own questions. She anticipates that this more student-centered approach, defined by student-driven questions, will minimize issues of classroom management. This teacher also sees numerous possibilities to bridge science with other subject areas in an added effort to help her students get the most from their experience. As she considers this unit, the teacher looks for as many tie-ins as possible with other subject areas. She also envisions that this approach will increase student motivation and relevance by making the discipline of science seem more authentic and connected. The teacher associates this notion of connectivity with importance and meaning.

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These strategies are common in schools today, but what we ask can students really learn what we ask them to learn from an integrated curriculum perspective? How are the individual disciplines portrayed? What does the level of integration throughout the curriculum imply about the nature of knowledge? Curriculum is a complex and multifaceted concept. Yet, most people would likely define it by merely reciting the predominant subjects taught in public schools: English, science, mathematics, and social studies. To a lesser extent we might expect individuals to identify areas that are believed to supplement the so-called core subjects, including classes in world languages, art, and music. Regardless, the concept of curriculum is often synonymous with the catalogue of familiar classes experienced by untold numbers of students over the years. Professional educators would certainly provide a richer description of curriculum along a number of dimensions. In addition to the listing of subjects that comprise a typical school day, high school teachers would assuredly identify those ubiquitous three-ring binders that hold the units and lessons they will teach. They would cite the elements that underpin the products of curriculum as well, including state and national standards and assessment frameworks. Given the recent trend toward curriculum integration, it is likely many professionals would also outline what is commonly known as an interdisciplinary approach, describing themes and connections designed to cut across various subject areas. Ultimately the process of curriculum development itself would surface, for many educators have served on curriculum committees charged with the laborious task of creating, updating, and aligning educational practice in response to the latest educational trends. Given the reality of high-stakes testing, many teachers would also likely report on the technical challenges of compiling materials and producing consistent documents so that everyone in a given school would be on the same page. Although such a range of responses is not necessarily inappropriate, given a reform-minded approach, they are troublesome. Curriculum is more than a sum of its parts and the associated technical process of assembling the material. It is more than a means of ensuring a pathway for standardized and simplistic accountability. It should represent the dynamic whole of the human experience. Although commonly thought of as existing only within the domain of schooling, it is much, much more. We do not dismiss the logistical dimension of what it takes to create curriculum materials as trivial or unimportant. Nor do we reject the pragmatic necessity of a well-articulated blueprint for facilitating learning. However, we believe that, at its core, curriculum is as much about philosophy and epistemology as it is about product and process. In fact, it may be inappropriate to distinguish among these concepts at all, as they are one and the same. Perhaps the most critical question with regard to curriculum centers on the notion of the value or worth of knowledge. Without addressing the

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issues underlying the normative implications of what we ought to teach, curriculum development as an enterprise is usually relegated to merely a technical undertaking. The resulting products of this technical effort are destined to foster a coverage-of-content mentality common to so many classrooms today. Without a philosophical compass, the process offers no guidance to answer questions of what is most important to teach and why. Without pondering these critical questions of importance and meaning, attempts to create an interdisciplinary approach can compound the danger: the multiple subject areas may overwhelm the curriculum, creating a territory of content so vast that the learner has no time to learn the skills needed to navigate the territory, much less to explore the landscape itself. Content becomes a list of facts to be checked off, rather than knowledge that is useful within the larger context of social coexistence. Knowledge transcends individuals, cultures, and even time, and yet it shapes and is fully shaped by each of them. Therefore, we must proceed from the perspective that we cannot teach others everything they might need to know, although it seems current educational reform movements are designed to do that very thing. We believe that there must be a critical shift in the way we approach curriculum. Much has been written on the notion of integrated/interdisciplinary curriculum as well as curriculum in general. In preparing this manuscript, we reviewed numerous books that provided "practical" advice for teachers and curriculum specialists interested in developing interdisciplinary curriculum. To discuss them here in a semblance of literature review would be counterproductive; they are too numerous and the overlap in their message is significant. Indeed, the practical is not our primary focus. We might more effectively make our point by discussing the antecedent to all of these modern editions, Ralph W. Tyler's Basic Principles of Curriculum and Instruction (1949), which offers a blueprint for curriculum design that many have followed. More than a half century since its publication, this book is still perhaps the most influential book ever published in the area of curriculum—for better or worse. Much of what we take for granted in terms of curriculum design, such as the relationship between objectives and evaluation, is clearly delineated in this influential work. Even the very nature of how most curricula are set up and organized can be traced to ideas outlined in this book. Clearly, this publication has made a significant contribution to education, and we do offer a critical perspective not on what it asserts in terms of curriculum development but on what we deem an insufficient philosophical core. Early in Tyler's self-described rationale and procedures for instructional programs is a section titled "The Use of Philosophy in Selecting Objectives." It is in this deceivingly straightforward section of the book that we ground our primary concern. Within the nine paragraphs of this brief section, Tyler outlines the utility of a philosophical perspective as it

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5

guides curriculum development. Perhaps overly concerned with the alignment of one's core beliefs and curriculum objectives, he essentially ignores the epistemological and normative foundation upon which all human experience, including curriculum, is based. What he states seems reasonable for the most part, and even prudent, and we certainly advocate that the development of curricular materials should be consistent within one's philosophical stance. Curriculum, however, is much more than merely a technical enterprise where one plugs in various elements to achieve a final product. In fact, we argue that without a clear and wellarticulated set of beliefs about learning and teaching grounded in one's ethos regarding the role of education in society, we cannot adequately address the most significant question about the value of certain knowledge. Although in his work Tyler notes that a statement of philosophy should "define the nature of a good life and a good society" (p. 34), he is unwilling to commit to any underlying proposition, such as democracy, as contributing to those notions. He seems to want to avoid the inherently messy aspects of curriculum and knowledge in favor of a veneer of order and organization. In his work, the most challenging and rewarding aspects of curriculum are repressed in favor of the nuts-and-bolts approach to the compilation and alignment of materials. We propose that it is only through the rich exploration of one's beliefs that the full value of curriculum can emerge. The real work of curriculum lies in the challenge of elucidating one's beliefs about how individuals learn, which knowledge has worth, and what role schooling has in society. It is upon this foundation that curriculum is built. Then, and only then, should the task of "selecting] a group of a few highly important, consistent objectives" (p. 33) commence. Consistent with the technical framework of Tyler, a great number of publications focusing solely on the technical aspects of curriculum development surfaced in the 1980s and 1990s. Despite concurrently significant advances in curriculum theory, there existed (and still exists) an all-toofamiliar gap between theory and practice. An influential publication that specifically deals with an integrated approach to curriculum is the edited work of H.H. Jacobs (1989) titled Interdisciplinary Curriculum: Design and Implementation. Within the third chapter, David Ackerman discusses various intellectual criteria, which he describes as sort of a "series of tests" (p. 26) to be applied to a proposed theme for an integrated unit under development to determine its worth. Within these various discipline-based validity criteria, he specifically addresses the notion of a metaconceptual bonus that occurs as one thinks beyond the disciplines. He describes this bonus as the whole being greater than the sum of its parts, an acquired perspective that moves beyond the disciplines in ways impossible through a compartmentalized approach to teaching and learning. This notion of thinking beyond the disciplines is our principal aim; however,

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we would never characterize it as a "bonus." Instead, this thinking beyond the boundaries best represents the core of learning—the very nature of knowledge itself. Although learning can sometimes best be facilitated by focusing on one perspective or facet of knowledge, it is imperative that we do not lose sight of the whole, as it often is the key to such critical notions as relevancy and meaning. It is grounded within this notion of a holistic perspective that we propose to move beyond the familiar term of interdisciplinary and toward the concept of a transdisciplinary curriculum. Historically, the nomenclature underpinning an integrated approach to curriculum has favored the term interdisciplinary. More recently the notion of a thematic approach to connote the spanning of disciplines has also become popular. Jacobs (1989) catalogues several terms that represent what she describes as nuances of interdisciplinary approaches. Within this short list resides the designation transdisciplinary, and we certainly make no claim to have coined this terminology. Meeth (1978), in fact, used the term a quarter century ago. Still ringing true, Meeth's article notes, "In spite of the many efforts to define interdisciplinary studies, the answers continue to confuse more than satisfy" (p. 10). He describes four hierarchical levels, including cross-disciplinary, multidisciplinary, interdisciplinary, and transdisciplinary. Cross-disciplinary is viewing one discipline from the perspective of another. The slightly higher multidisciplinary level involves several disciplines focused on a problem or issue. At this level, each discipline contributes "its own knowledge or approach to the theme with no attempt to integrate or interrelate ideas" (p. 10). Perhaps this term best applies to the approach outlined in the vignette at the start of this chapter. Even higher still is the concept of interdisciplinary, which distinguishes itself from a multidisciplinary approach by attempting to integrate the contributions of several disciplines. Within this interdisciplinary perspective, a harmonious relationship is sought among the various disciplines. At the highest level exists the notion of transdisciplinary, which is truly beyond the disciplines. Meeth writes, "Whereas interdisciplinary programs start with the discipline, transdisciplinary programs start with the issue or problem and, through the process of problem solving, bring to bear the knowledge of those disciplines that contributes to a solution or resolution." Meeth proved to be prophetic in his statement that transdisciplinary programs are the most difficult to teach; the ideal underlying the transdisciplinary notion has all but disappeared in favor of those lower on the hierarchical scale. Given the traditional organizational structure of schools by subject area, this is to be expected. We conceptualize transdisciplinarity in ways similar to Meeth and extend the concept as we emphasize that all human knowledge is by its very nature holistic; to artificially, and often arbitrarily, carve it up will assuredly present certain difficulties in the context of formal educational

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institutions. That is, the notion of a transdisciplinary approach is fundamentally different than a cross-, multi-, or even interdisciplinary perspective. To bring to bear the knowledge of one discipline in the course of addressing a question or problem naturally invokes the concept of the whole, as the disciplines are inexorably bound together. A transdisciplinary way of knowing illustrates a pivotal move away from the individual parts toward a multifaceted whole—even if only one facet of knowledge serves as the primary focus of instruction. Consistent with this view, subjects in school can no longer be portrayed as isolated content areas in which the memorization of subject-specific material takes precedence. Instead, the discipline is defined as a perspective—a way of looking at the world that contributes to a more complete understanding of it. Connections, perspective, and relevancy should be explicit elements of all teaching and learning. To further illustrate a transdisciplinary way of knowing, we propose the following tenets: • Disciplines are a human construct, and curriculum has artificially divided knowledge into digestible chunks to deliver it to students. As a result, subjects (disciplines) exist as an organizational structure for the institution of formal schooling and serve to maintain the status quo. • Each discipline provides a narrow, bounded perspective on knowledge and experience that illuminates one or more facets of the dynamic whole but cannot illuminate the whole by itself. Consequently, multiple disciplines are required to elucidate the whole. • Learning is by its very nature transdisciplinary—teaching in secondary schools is typically disciplinary. Thus, reform is needed with regard to the way we approach curriculum, pedagogy, and assessment. Although a transdisciplinary perspective goes beyond the traditional boundaries of curriculum, this approach to learning and teaching requires that significant effort be placed in understanding the nature of each discipline individually as well as in terms of the whole. To facilitate learning from the perspective of the whole, we must understand facets, or disciplines, to a deeper extent than may be required if we were to approach teaching from a single-subject perspective. If one teaches from solely an isolated disciplinary perspective, the boundaries and limits of that field become less important. For example, there is a common recognition among most subject area teachers as to the boundary of their discipline as defined by the scope of the curriculum. From a traditional perspective, to integrate across the curriculum is characterized by covering subject matter material from an area of the curriculum outside your own. It becomes a matter of choice whether to remain within the bounds of one's own specialty or not. For individuals to consider questions and issues effectively through a transdisciplinary way of knowing, they must first understand

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the nature of the disciplines in order to purposively choose the appropriate facets of knowledge to be brought in at a particular time. To make this informed decision requires a rich understanding of many facets as well as how each facet relates to the whole. To this end, this volume includes separate chapters that are disciplinary-based and serve to explore the nature of these selected facets of knowledge, as well as the connections among one another. In the following chapter, titled "Educational Foundations: Building a Case for Communication," Arthur Costigan continues our exploration of disciplinary boundaries. Within this chapter, he makes the case that philosophical, cultural, and practical boundaries exist within our educational system and that crossing these boundaries is an opportunity for conversation that will advance learning and teaching. He notes that the culture of subject-based and isolated academics has been both prevalent and consistent over the past century. Drawing upon the work of Dewey and present-day scholars, Costigan offers a thoughtful look at a realworld initiative that attempts to span the disciplines. He concludes that within teacher education, foundations courses may provide the best opportunity to initiate discourse in this area and that cross-boundary conversations are essential, given the complex and diverse realities of schooling today. In chapter 3, "Not-So-Foreign Languages: The Critical Inquiry Approach to Moving beyond Disciplines," Terry A. Osborn discusses language education, reviews select approaches for preparing teachers to work beyond the disciplinary boundaries of foreign language education, and offers a process of critical pedagogy for the foreign language classroom. This process, the Critical Language Inquiry Cycle (CLIC), is explored within the context of learning and languages. He concludes that the CLIC can achieve multiple objectives by decentralizing curriculum development while responding to the need for critical language awareness. The result, Osborn concludes, will lead to meaningful integration of disciplines in the language classroom. Chapter 4, authored by David M. Moss, is titled "The End of Science ... and Where Other Disciplines Begin: Exploring the Nature of Science." Moss introduces science as a way of knowing, which he explores within the context of science learning and teaching. The multifaceted and complex nature of science is defined and described as the principal precursor to the development of scientific literacy. Grounded in the notion of project-based instruction, Moss argues against the false dichotomy of content versus process while outlining a vision for science education reform from a transdisciplinary perspective. Co-authored by Alice F. Artzt and Frances R. Curcio with Alan Sultan and Tara Wachter, chapter 5 is titled "Rethinking Secondary Mathematics

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Teacher Preparation." Written from the perspective of teacher educators, this chapter describes an innovative preparation program for teachers of secondary mathematics—a program designed collaboratively by math educators, mathematicians, educational psychologists, and language educators. Beginning with the initial design of this program, the authors describe how it moves beyond traditional disciplinary boundaries on a variety of levels. The authors make use of student voices and vignettes in this chapter to bring to life the challenges and successes of this creative approach. Chapter 6, "Don't Mourn; Organize! Transdisciplinary Social Studies Education," written by David Gerwin, portrays social studies itself as a discipline without clear boundaries in that it is the study of our collective human past. Gerwin argues that we must not exclude anything that may be relevant to our understanding of our past, which includes virtually everything that has ever happened, and that all the disciplines may be part of social studies in that way. Discussing national standards for social studies and drawing upon firsthand experiences, Gerwin discusses the challenges and benefits of bringing to life an integrated approach to learning and teaching. Authored by Douglas Kaufman, chapter 7, "Reading the World and Writing to Learn: Lessons from Writers about Creating Transdisciplinary Inquiry," takes a critical look at interdisciplinary curriculum. Kaufman explores the all-too-common dissonance that emerges as a result of tension between the subject-specific content and the whole. Drawing primarily upon the work of Donald Murray and Donald Graves, he proposes to close the gap between theory and practice by focusing on a process of finding answers to questions instead of the relentless pursuit of content knowledge as an end in itself. He concludes that observing and thinking are acts that transfer into every discipline, giving rise to an authentic transdisciplinary approach. In chapter 8, "Transdisciplinary Approaches in the Education of ELLs," Mileidis Gort describes the challenges of meeting the needs of secondary English language learners (ELLs). She argues that the structural rigidity of a typical departmentalized secondary school is unsuited to many ELLs due to a broad range of diversity issues. Although noting that no single approach works in all contexts, she offers several research-supported strategies that may best serve ELLs. Dr. Gort concludes that we must fundamentally change the way we approach curriculum and schooling to provide adequate and equitable opportunities for all students. In chapter 9, "Murals as Interdisciplinary Teaching," Rikki Asher describes the many benefits that result from the meaningful connections between art education and other disciplines. She notes that educational models that serve to break down typical school compartmentalization can foster critical-

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thinking skills as students explore the deep relationships among the areas of content. She provides a rich description of a unit of instruction designed to alter students' perceptions of immigration through mural making. Incorporating oral history, research, dance, and cooperative learning, a public work of art was produced as a result of this innovative project. In chapter 10, "Learning to Let Go: Student Participation in the Development of an Integrated English Curriculum," Wendy Glenn advocates that with courage, trust, and the willingness to expect the unexpected, true integration is possible. She notes that the boundaries of secondary school departments are artificial and that students can best experience the complexity of authentic problem solving when connections are made across disciplines. She discusses her personal journey as a classroom teacher, where she initially pre-planned all aspects of various integrated units and then moved to a model in which student input significantly shaped her junior-year American Literature curriculum. She concludes that only by letting go, from a curriculum perspective, was she able to help students discover the real-world applications of traditional literature, encouraging them to make connections with several disciplines not typically present in English classrooms. The final chapter of this book is co-authored by the editors, Doug Kaufman, David M. Moss, and Terry Osborn. Resulting from their hallway conversations, this chapter addresses the following questions: How much content area knowledge do teachers need to have to approach teaching and learning from a transdisciplinary perspective? How do we best prepare a transdisciplinary teacher corps? What impact does assessment have on curriculum and a transdisciplinary perspective? What does a school look like from an organizational perspective to foster a transdisciplinary perspective? What benefits do we see from a literacy perspective as an outcome of transdisciplinary teaching and learning? The chapter descriptions make it clear that this volume is not a "how to" or a technical manual for curriculum development. Our purpose is to reopen a meaningful dialogue within the context of curriculum and school reform. It is conceived as a philosophical engine for change. Prior to dealing with the technical issues of organization of curriculum, this book can be utilized to help address the critical question of the value of certain knowledge. To deal effectively with the practical dilemmas that will certainly arise as one moves to implement the notions discussed herein, we must first address the theoretical conflicts. This takes time. We are at a point in history when the agenda of school reform leaves little time for such paradoxes and problems. We move too quickly from one trendy aspect of schooling to another. As a result, curricular improvement initiatives often seem uninformed and may lack real substance. Our hope is that together these chapters provide insight into the whole from the per-

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spective of parts we know as disciplines. Let the serious dialogue continue. REFERENCES Jacobs, H.H. (1989). Interdisciplinary curriculum: Design and implementation. Alexandria, VA: ASCD. Meeth, L.R. (1978). Interdisciplinary studies: A matter of definition. Change, 10, 10. Tyler, R. W. (1949). Basic principles of curriculum and instruction. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

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Chapter 2

Educational Foundations: Building a Case for Communication Arthur Costigan

EDUCATIONAL FOUNDATIONS AS A STUDY OF BOUNDARIES Any medieval scholar would be quite clear about the building blocks of his educational system. First would be the trivium of grammar, rhetoric, and dialectic. Second would be the quadrivium of arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music. At first, to our twenty-first-century sensibilities, this system seems a curious arrangement of subject boundaries. The medieval scholar, however, would be quite clear that his educational system was inherently logical, as it indeed was, being based on Aristotle's categories. The medieval scholar could explain to us exactly how, in his system, rhetoric differed from dialectic, or how music was directly related to astronomy, or how grammar was as much about spoken eloquence as it was a means to interpret written texts—meanings not immediately apparent to us today. By contrast, the building blocks of our educational system today seem to us to have some natural, internal, or organic logic, when on reflection, the arrangement of our disciplines may be rather haphazard. For instance, we might have some trouble explaining to the medieval scholar how sociology differs from anthropology or cultural studies. We might have difficulty explaining how history is a separate category from writing, or how English is different from women's studies, or how mathematics is separate from science. This chapter makes the case that there are a number of philosophical, cultural, and practical boundaries in our educational system, and that examining and crossing these boundaries is an opportunity for an educa-

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tional conversation that can assist the practice of interdisciplinary teaching and learning. A conversation about these boundaries is necessary if we are to move from a generalized consensus that interdisciplinary studies are appealing in some vague way, to a more coherent and useful understanding of interdisciplinary possibilities. This chapter examines the boundaries prevalent in the Academy today: (1) boundaries of commonsense and constructivist educational orientation, (2) boundaries of artificially construed subject disciplines, and (3) boundaries between schools of education and schools of arts and sciences. This chapter acknowledges that there already is much unconscious boundary crossing in schools, such as in deliberately manufactured disciplines such as high school social studies, or as in a college-level program of gay and lesbian studies or a university-wide writing project involving all departments. Nevertheless, most attempts at deliberate boundary crossing have failed (Ravitch, 2000), most glaringly in the century-old progressive school movement, which generally has not taken hold in the hearts and minds of teachers, students, or the public (Johnson, Farkas, & Bers, 1997; Johnson & Immerwahr, 1994). It does seem to be fair to say that most educators on the secondary and university levels feel that crossing boundaries of subject, discipline, and method into interdisciplinary practice is somehow beneficial; but most often we lack a coherent articulation of what the boundaries are, whether they should be crossed, and, if so, how they should be crossed. Once the "what" and the "should" of educational boundaries are examined, the "how" of interdisciplinary education can then gain surer footing. Furthermore, for those of us who come from the perspective of teacher educators, this chapter argues that interdisciplinary possibilities in teaching and learning are best initiated and grounded in educational foundations courses. VINCE: INSTINCT FOR THE INTERDISCIPLINARY IN A HIGH SCHOOL SOCIAL STUDIES CLASS A recent class taught by a talented young high school teacher helps frame the discussion of boundaries and opens a way into understanding a definition of interdisciplinary studies. Vince is a talented first-year teacher of social studies in a high school in a poor area of New York City. Vince is a former football player, volunteers his time teaching in a kindergarten, and is known as a thoughtful and engaged teacher. He graduated from a small liberal arts college close to New York City. The high school in which he started teaching is troubled, one that is labeled by the chancellor as a school under registration review. Vince's newly appointed principal, Harris, speaks of Vince as a talented and "first-rate" first-year teacher, but Harris is concerned with good instruction in his school in an era of increased accountability and high-stakes testing. Such pressures on new

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teachers and principals like Harris and Vince are typical in New York City schools (Costigan, 2002). When Harris enters Vince's class, he sees the students wandering around the room with pads of paper or notebooks in hand and looking at the walls. On the walls are taped pages of newsprint with English letters and Egyptian hieroglyphics written or drawn on them in magic marker. There is much noise and the students are talking in pairs and in groups. The students seem to examining the English words and hieroglyphics, writing in their notebooks, and then writing on the newsprint taped to the wall. After about 20 minutes of this, Vince tells the students to take their seats, and he asks them what they have learned. They discuss the differences between "picture language" and "letter language." This conversation turns into a general discussion of Egyptian culture. Vince asks the students what they know about Egypt. The students relate that they know about pyramids and mummies and that the king was named Pharaoh. Several students who had identified themselves as African American relate that Egypt was predominantly a "Black-African culture." Another brings up the fact that Egyptians invented the airplane. Vince has an uncomfortable smile on his face and tells the students, "OK, open your textbooks to page 349 and read the chapter about the Egyptians. Maybe we can get some answers to our questions there." After about five minutes of reading, the students, with their uncanny ability to know when the bell is about to ring, begin packing their books and materials into their bags. As the bell rings, Vince shouts after the class, "Be sure to answer the five questions at the end of class for homework." Later in the day Vince sits with the principal and talks about his lesson. The principal focuses on the activity in which the students read newsprint on the walls. Harris comments that the students seemed very engaged with the process and asks Vince what was going on. Vince explains that the previous night's homework was to have the students translate their names into hieroglyphics based on information in the textbook. When they entered the room earlier in the day, after he had "gotten them settled down," he directed their attention to 10 quotations—5 in English, 5 in hieroglyphs—on the newsprint on the walls. The students were directed to go to each taped piece of newsprint and translate its hieroglyphs into English or vice versa. They were to copy the translation into their notebooks and then sign their name in hieroglyphs on the English newsprint, or in English on the hieroglyphs, before moving on to the next of the 10 quotations. Vince's lesson brings up many issues and presents many problems from an instructional viewpoint, but the discussion with his principal involves not methodological issues relevant to social studies but educational issues relating to the foundations of education. The principal is impressed with the students' overall involvement and engagement in translating and

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signing their names; yet he does not understand, and Vince cannot clearly articulate, how this exercise is relevant to the state-mandated social studies curriculum. Furthermore, they both wonder how the highly engaging and enjoyable activity prepares the students for the upcoming state examinations. They wonder how such an activity fits in with the normative social studies curriculum. The principal liked the way the students interacted, but neither he nor Vince could articulate how such interstudent discussion and conversation philosophically constituted a best practice in learning. Both Vince and the principal were troubled by several students' comments that ancient Egypt was primarily a "Black-African" culture that was related in some way to the experiences of African Americans, and neither Vince nor Harris knew how sensitively to address the statement that Egyptians invented the airplane. Additionally there was reading and writing in the class; but, not being English or writing teachers, neither Harris nor Vince felt competent to evaluate how effective these writing and reading strategies were. Whereas the conversation between Vince and Harris could be viewed as a social studies methods conversation, closer examination reveals that Vince and Harris conducted a foundations conversation. The discussion was philosophical and interdisciplinary, focusing on the benefits of an exploratory, cross-disciplinary, constructivist activity that involved reading, writing, doing, translating, communicating, investigating, and exploring prior beliefs and knowledge. Harris and Vince's conversation was not primarily about whether Vince's classroom practices were effective, for they seemed to be in some vague way. Rather, the conversation was a philosophical struggle to identify the parameters of subject-based instruction. Harris and Vince could not articulate whether this appealing, but problematic, interdisciplinary class was any better than a more traditional lecture. Although Vince's lesson had several intuitive interdisciplinary aspects, neither Vince nor Harris had the ability to understand or assess the validity of such an interdisciplinary approach. CONSTRUCTIVIST VERSUS COMMONSENSE IDEOLOGY The difficulty Vince and Harris have in evaluating the lesson lies chiefly in their inability to view the lesson through one of two contrasting ideological lenses, now at least a century old. For instance, when John Mayher, a professor of education at New York University, set out to write a book on educational linguistics (J. Mayher, personal communication, November 1990), he discovered that the educational concerns and discontinuities were nothing new. Like many before him, he discovered that the field of education could be divided into two discontinuous camps. The first, which Mayher terms the commonsense approach, is assumed as the norm

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in such policy statements as A Nation at Risk (National Commission on Excellence in Education, 1994). The commonsense approach is espoused by writers such as E. D. Hirsch (1988); policy-makers such as William Bennett and Chester Finn, respectively the former Secretary and Assistant Secretary of Education; economists such as Dale Ballou and Michael Podgursky (Ballou & Podgursky, 1999); and organizations such as the Heritage Foundation and the Thomas B. Fordham Foundation (McAdoo, 2001). This subject-based, transmissive approach accepts the typical education apparatus of lecturing and testing typically found on the secondary, college, and graduate levels, one that continues to be replicated despite the efforts and interventions of many schools of education (Wideen, MayerSmith, & Moon, 1998). This approach typically devalues teacher education programs and is in favor of allowing candidates with strong subject backgrounds to teach with no specific preparations in educational foundations or methodology The commonsense approach is what most Americans typically know about education, with an emphasis on mastering the subject disciplines, teaching by transmitting facts, or lecturing, and with a perception of students as passive receptors of information (Mayher, 1990; Wideen et al., 1998). This commonsense, transmissive, or traditional orientation is normative, and the recent profusion of increased and high-stakes testing of students on all levels reflects the dominance of this approach (Costigan, 2001,2002). The second camp, proponents of what Mayher (1990) terms an uncommonsense approach, embraces those educational attitudes that stem from the progressive, constructivist, or student-centered tradition. Yet, the way in which this alternative approach is typically defined tends toward vagueness. "The keystones of uncommon sense," Mayher states, "are learners going beyond the information given; language being learned in use; the power of narrative in learning, in memory, and in development; the normally creative use of language; and a focus on learning, not teaching" (1990, p. 3). The uncommonsense approach is often termed constructivist, which Brooks and Brooks (1993) attempt to explain as "not a theory about teaching. It's a theory about knowledge and learning. Drawing on a synthesis of current work in cognitive psychology, philosophy, and anthropology, the theory defines knowledge as temporary, developmental, socially and culturally mediated, and thus non-objective" (p. 1). Because most teachers, students, and parents—those most concerned with education, if you will—have a similar traditional conception of schools (see Johnson, Farkas, & Bers, 1997; Johnson & Immerwahr, 1994), all based on an overwhelming commonsense experience (Britzman, 1984), it seems clear why the public, as well as subject-oriented academicians, have not embraced or understood the progressive, constructivism, or uncommonsense orientation of student-centered education as presented in many

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schools of education. Even among the educational research community, some researchers see an uncommonsense reform movement as having failed (Ravitch, 2000). One attempt to clarify this pedagogical discontinuity, one that stems from the wide street of structural discontinuity, is to see the structure of subject disciplines as a chief factor in creating boundaries, the acknowledgment and examination of which may provide a bridge for interdisciplinary conversations. In 1930, John Dewey attempted to explain to the Harvard educational community the chief obstacle he had seen in during almost 40 years of attempted educational reform. Dewey explained that a chief cause of "educational confusion" was the division of knowledge into the "doses and chunks of a ready-made subject-matter," which leads the student into passivity. Dewey complains, "It is all too common to hear students... say in reference to some subject that they 'have had it.' The use of the past tense is only too significant. The subject is over and done with; it is very much in the past" (quoted in Archimbault, 1965, pp. 424-425). Although subject disciplines do remain the chief organizing factor in high schools and colleges, there are signs that attempts have been made to begin interdisciplinary studies. With the social changes and increasing complexity of society since the 1960s, and with the increased diversity and numbers of those entering and remaining in school at the high school and college levels, there have been some attempts to provide expanded educational opportunities. Powell, Farrar, and Cohen (1985) write of the "shopping mall high school" in which students can choose from courses based on a variety of curricula based on traditional disciplines, contemporary issues, interests, and popular culture. On the university level, the interdisciplinary studies of the 1970s in liberal arts and humanities have, in a sense, been superceded by cross-disciplinary studies such as feminist (and, later, women's) studies; Black (and, later, African American) studies; gay, lesbian, and transgendered studies; and others. Even those who remain in the traditional subject-based categories of English, math, and science have a vague sense that these are imperfect limitations at best and that interdisciplinary approaches are a good, if vague, ideal. Nevertheless, as Cuban (1984), Mayher (1990), and many others have pointed out, breaking boundaries through interdisciplinary studies remains suspect. Recently, a major academic journal published one academician's response to an account of an interdisciplinary or constructivist learning center approach. His words express a typical response to interdisciplinary attempts: "In the end, what I have learned... from this article is that Teaming centers' is whatever anyone wants it to be, even an excuse not to teach, and that learning-centered policies are used to diminish and devalue educators both financially and professionally" (Lucata, 2001).

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The student-centered, interdisciplinary practices advocated by Dewey and Kirkpatrick more than 100 years ago have not taken hold (Ravitch, 2000) and continue to be seen as "soft," "touchy-feely," and "Mickey Mouse" (Sobelman, 1996). Most academicians have a vague sense that on the secondary and even the college level, distinguishing math from science or history from writing is inherently problematic. But such distinctions do remain steadfast, despite our sense that such distinctions are imperfect. The chief cause of discontinuity between interdisciplinary desire and mistrust of interdisciplinary process lies in an inability to converse not only across the wide street of education versus academic disciplines but across the primary methodology of each side of the constructivist-commonsense divide. Furthermore, those of us involved in teacher education and preparation face immediate and practical issues. An honors student in humanities or women's studies cannot teach in a public school because there is no license for these areas, and she does not have enough credits listed as "ENG." to meet the requirements for initial state certification. A successful high school teacher with an M.A. in history or an M.S.Ed, in social studies education cannot change licenses and become an elementary teacher because she does not have enough credits in "common branches." Such practical discontinuities are the result of academic understanding that is not only structural but philosophical. A constructivist could argue that the methodology of teaching first grade differs little from that of teaching a graduate course in that the teacher values learning by discovery, student interaction and exploration, a project or multidisciplinary approach, and an orientation that attempts to bring the outside in so that learning in school reflects learning as it takes place in life (Dewey, 1890). The fact remains that these terms are not part of a mutual conversation between commonsense, subject-based teachers from the arts and sciences and uncommonsense constructivist teachers speaking in the tradition of Dewey in many schools of education. This ideological divide is the most basic conversation that should be initiated in foundations courses. DIALOGUE A N D RESISTANCE: AN INTERDISCIPLINARY EXPERIMENT IN AN EDUCATION PROGRAM While Vince and Harris may be unconscious constructivists, moving across the boundaries of subject disciplines, this does not mean that those of the constructivist orientation—typically found in schools of education—have any secret to initiating interdisciplinary learning for their students. An example exists on the college level within the Department of Secondary Education at Queens College, which has attempted to begin an

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interdisciplinary conversation through the Lincoln Center Institute (LCI). The institute, part of one of the premier cultural institutions in the world, has provided education students in the humanities with access to highquality dramatic, artistic, musical, and cultural experiences. This program is an attempt to show educational students in art, English, language studies, and social studies how the visual and performing arts can be integrated into their subject disciplines and can become an integral part of their classrooms. Through this collaboration with LCI, education students have seen performances of Julius Caesar and The Iliad, classical Chinese opera, African American dance, storytelling, and Irish folk music, as well as many visual and sculptural resources at local art museums (see Asher & Costigan, in press). Underlying this collaboration with LCI is the secondary education department's commitment to a model of constructivist education that stresses the teacher as a coach who enables his or her students to actively construct knowledge rather than to allowing them to be passive receivers of information. In line with Dewey's writings early in the twentieth century, this collaboration is an attempt to create learning environments that reflect learning as it exists in the real world and to create in the classroom a place where the student "lives" (Dewey, 1890). The Queens College secondary education department sees these cultural and artistic experiences as essentially involving all of the subject disciplines and as able to engender a true interdisciplinary conversation. A visit to the Socrates Sculpture garden, a reclaimed industrial dumping site on New York's East River, provides an example of how LCI experiences have opened up an interdisciplinary conversation. One crisp fall day, a group of English, art, music, physical education, and language students were looking at a group of 15 large, white coffee cups hovering on slender steel rods at various heights above the tide pool of Hallet's Cove on the East River. Slowly the cups were becoming submerged one by one in the incoming tide. Some of the cups near the tide line were black with algae; others that were never exposed to high tide were pristinely white. The group of 10 students discussed possible interpretations of this contemporary sculpture. David, an English student, stated that the black and white cups could represent racism. He explained that the white cups high above the tide symbolized white privilege, and the algae-covered black cups near the water symbolized African Americans getting "submerged" in American culture. This was a tense moment for the group, which had not experienced multicultural or anti-bias talk as an accepted part of the curriculum. As witnessed in Vince's class, teachers and students often go out of their way to avoid such talk (see Tatum, 1992). Several students challenged this interpretation, stating that it was "reading too much into this piece." About 10 minutes later, the group reached the consensus that this sculpture probably was not about racism or privilege.

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In a later classroom discussion, the students came to understand how important the sculpture was in bringing to the forefront learners' understanding of race and class, as well as how race and class were issues that could be brought into a interdisciplinary conversation. Traditional subjectisolated academic practices often silence these kinds of conversations (Tatum, 1992). The students also began to discuss how controversial themes such as race and class could be brought into subject-based classrooms as a normative part of their practice. Lowenfeld and Brittain (1975) argue that interdisciplinary art experiences provide an excellent opportunity to reinforce creative thinking across disciplines and provide the means by which students can develop their imaginative and novel ideas without censorship. In another experience, at the Noguchi Museum, education students from various disciplines were looking at a sculpture of a fountain, carved from rock by Irish- and Japanese-American artist Isamu Noguchi. After attempting to interpret the sculpture, the students were led to reflect on Noguchi's work as presenting both Eastern and Western aesthetics in art. This experience instilled in the education students a strong desire to learn more. In a reflective assignment about the visit, an art student, Linda, wrote, "Some of my students are born of dual nationalities. They can identify with the artist as having to have handled similar problems to their own. The dual heritage of the artist would relate to my students' personal experience." Although these few examples cannot reflect all the rich experiences of LCI-sponsored events, they do show that such experiences can engender a multicultural discussion among education students from various disciplines. Continuing on the previous four years' collaboration with LCI, graduate students at Queens College in the 2002 academic year will view Queens Museum's impressive 1964/1992 model of all five boroughs of New York City. This scale model of New York City depicts every building in the city, along with all of New York's streets, waterways, parks, and points of interest. Roughly as big as four basketball courts, this impressive model contains building representations on a scale of one inch to one hundred feet; it can be viewed at many levels from a spiral platform with a glass floor. Within the Queens College-LCI program, English, social studies, and language education students will use the model to develop lessons that are based on their subject discipline but that also make use of an interdisciplinary approach to access insights gained from the perspectives of other content areas. While the LCI interdisciplinary collaboration has had many successes, it has also met much resistance that illustrates how the subject-based educational structure inhibits interdisciplinary discussion. First, the LCI program's initial implementation through methods courses rather than foundations courses reveals that the foundations level is not typically

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viewed as the place where interdisciplinary discussion should be initiated. Second, during the program's four-year existence to date, several teacher education programs have removed themselves from the LCI collaboration because of the time required to plan for and attend events. Several education professors have expressed strong resistance to the entire process, and educators in math and science programs in particular maintain that the demands of their content-area courses leave no space for such interdisciplinary experiences. Thus, resistance to interdisciplinary collaboration in this program indicates that both the subject-area focus of education courses and the structure of the Academy inhibit interdisciplinary experience. The greatest resistance to the LCI collaboration, however, is frequently voiced by students. Brigitte, a student in her early 40s, married with two children, articulates clearly typical student resistance: I don't care if it is departmental or not, it simply is not fair! I am going to school and teaching, and this is not what I need to learn. I need to know how to control a class. I need management skills so that I can teach them English. The pressure is on to teach them enough English so that they can pass the tests, and I want to get reading and writing through to them. During this outburst, the other students in the class agreed with Brigitte. She was asked, "If the arts are not worth allotting time for, even with our busy schedules, what does this say about our commitment to using the city and the arts as part of our students' education?" Another education student, Joseph, explained that in his experience, trips were not really a part of his education; he did not see how museum visits could dovetail into the teaching of a subject. Other students in the class anticipated the problem of getting administrators' permission for outside trips that are frequently seen as frills not central to the curriculum. In addition, with increased high-stakes testing in New York City, many students voiced concern about finding the time for such excursions. This resistance indicates the strong convictions these education students have about subject-based teaching in classrooms. Whereas most students did find LCI activities meaningful once they were involved, they frequently had trouble conceiving of education beyond what Britzman (1984) calls their "implicit institutional biographies—the cumulative experience of school lives.... All this contributes to well-worn and commonsense images of the teacher's work" (p. 443). This implicit academic biography leads teachers to replicate an understanding of education the way they experienced it (Wideen et al., 1998). Typically that experience is stereotypical (Webber & Mitchell, 1996), with an understanding of teaching as a simple and mechanical transfer of information for students to memorize (Richardson, 1996). It seems that this implicit biography ulti-

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mately values subject isolation and fosters within education students some resistance to an interdisciplinary understanding of education. Certainly it is the province of educational foundations to begin a conversation about this understanding. THE WIDEST STREET An old joke with many permutations goes something like this: "What is the widest street in town? Why, it's the one that separates ABC University's College of Arts and Sciences from ABC University's School of Education." For various historical reasons (Ravitch & Vinovskis, 1995), the academy separates English from English education and differentiates psychology from applied psychology, to name two of many examples. Since this dichotomy's origination late in the nineteenth century (see Karier, 1986; Kliebard, 1995), one richly documented consequence of this separation is that schools of education have, since their inception, had very low status in the educational hierarchy (Clifford & Guthrie, 1988; Ravitch, 2000). By the mid-twentieth century, writers and researchers were maintaining that teacher education was an educational wasteland (Bestor, 1953) and that teachers were essentially "mis-educated" (Koerner, 1963). Conant (1963) maintained that professional education in methods prohibited teachers from getting a deep and broad academic, or subjectbased, education. By the mid-twentieth century a popular conception of education as "Mickey Mouse" became prevalent (Sobelman, 1996, p. 4). As discussed below, shapers of public policy and researchers continue to be generally critical of all teacher preparation programs, viewing them as little more than a waste of time (Laitsch, 2001; Thomas B. Fordham Foundation, 2002). Despite nearly centuries-old criticism of schools of education (Ravitch, 2000), those teaching in such institutions often do hold that they have participated in a conversation that their subject-based colleagues are just beginning. Recently, a workshop for new professors at a large urban public university set the scene for much discussion of a better way to teach students. New professors from various subject disciplines spoke of innovative techniques: the use of student portfolios, the concept of writing as a process for implementing editing by student peers, the use of reflective or metacognitive writing to understand better the processes of math and science, and the use of exploratory talk that allows students to discuss concepts in an open-ended and nonjudgmental way before the professor provides information through a lecture. During the discussion of these teaching techniques, one new professor of educational foundations was overheard saying to a new professor of educational psychology, "You know, they're just beginning to talk about learning in a way that we've known for years." Although this anecdote suggests that constructivists

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and educationalists are having a certain conversation which is only beginning in the subject-based academic world (Ravitch, 2000), this anecdote is given not to show a superiority on either side but rather to illustrate that, despite various boundaries and divides, much overlapping of approaches is beginning to occur. Still the boundaries remain, but this discontinuity in itself invites examination and discussion (Darling-Hammond, 2001; Rodriguez, 2001). So-called educationalists are very familiar with the minority status of their field (Ravitch, 2000), but subject-based educators also need to be aware of a body of research that criticizes the ability of the subjectbased academic system to engage students, on both the secondary and college levels. Beginning in the 1960s, social researchers and social and academic critics such as Bronfenbrenner (1970), Coleman (1963), Freidenberg (1963), Goodman (1960), and Kenniston (1960), to name a few, saw the structure of teaching and learning in high schools and colleges as irrelevant, meaningless, and alienating to the students it was supposed to educate. Yet a critical discussion of the effectiveness of subjectbased education has not continued as a strong strand of investigation after the social changes of the 1960s and 1970s (Gaines, 1990), despite current indications that the discipline-based structure continues to be at odds with young people's abilities and interests. Particularly from a social science perspective, ongoing research explores how secondary schools fail to engage adolescents' considerable interests and abilities or to prepare them for a meaningful adulthood (Csikszentmihalyi & Schneider, 2000). Given the ever-increasing necessity of a college education, many students may have no idea how to negotiate the current subject-based academic system. Such a system may actually be a boundary, or gate, that keeps students out of deep engagement with subject disciplines rather than assisting them to gain access to higher studies (Rose, 1986). Regardless of how the academics view the educationalists (or vice versa) across the wide street, empirical evidence from groups such as Public Agenda suggests that the subject-based academic system, while providing some students with a means of social and economic advancement, provides them with no love of any subject-based discipline (Johnson, Farkas, & Bers, 1997; Johnson & Immerwahr, 1994). Even among education students, learning is understood as taking place socially with family and friends rather than within the official curricula of school (Costigan, 2000). Educational foundations is a place where the discontinuity of the educational wide street can be directly addressed. To begin a true interdisciplinary discussion, not only must the wide street between the world of education and the subject-isolated arts and sciences be bridged, but there must also be conversation regarding the ways in which the communities on each side of the street approach teaching and learning.

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CROSSING CULTURAL BOUNDARIES This chapter so far has made the case that despite resistance and difficulties, interdisciplinary teaching and learning does take place across various academic boundaries. However, as these boundaries still very much exist and are, in fact, quite resilient, the question remains how we, from our perspective as teachers and teacher educators, can best address boundary crossing so that it leads to interdisciplinary studies. The proper forum to initiate such a conversation is in the first courses any future teacher is likely to take: educational foundations. Traditionally these foundations courses have been a place to discuss the societal, historical, and philosophical issues in education—in short, why we construct curricula as we do in the United States, how our academic structures are organized, and how education fits in with our democratic form of government. Furthermore, because all subject-based education students have to take foundations, it seems an ideal place to initiate a discussion among future math, science, English, physical education, and other subject-based teachers about the history, culture, and philosophy of education as it has developed in the United States. Unfortunately, the prospect of initiating such discourse during foundations classes gives rise to two problems, from an interdisciplinary perspective. First, because foundations must cover the vast areas of history, philosophy, and culture, not to mention the introduction of factors such as federal and state laws, there is no particular reason any course has to institute an interdisciplinary conversation any more than it has to include a neo-Marxist understanding of education or discuss the influence of unions on public education. Foundations simply is too broad an area to permit the proper focus. Second, there would be no particular requirement to continue an interdisciplinary conversation after the first one or two foundations courses, as education students move into their subjectbased methods courses. However, recent developments in education in the United States make a less-bounded educational conversation particularly valuable and make a foundations-based interdisciplinary conversation particularly salient. In summarizing recent changes in an education department at a large private urban university, Sobelman (1996) makes the point that the focus of educational foundations has not been static in the past 100 years in which such studies have existed. In the early and middle parts of the twentieth century, educational foundations was tied to the how-to of subject-based methods courses. Yet, by the latter half of the twentieth century, a study of the historical, social, and philosophical foundations of education came to be seen as separate from the study of subject-based methods. At the end of the twentieth century, both state education departments and schools of education recognized some issues as central to all subject disciplines and properly relegated these issues to foundations courses. The central issue in

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education has been the increasing linguistic, national, and cultural diversity of the student population since the 1980s, a fact that permeates all subject disciplines. Since the 1980s, many states such as New York have required that all education programs document how they address the needs of students from homes where English is not spoken, students with handicapping conditions, students of ethnically and culturally diverse backgrounds, and students who are gifted and talented. In addition all [teacher education] programs were to demonstrate how they provided their students with an understanding of methods of assessment, and how they assessed their prospective teachers. (Sobelman, 1996, pp. 8-9; see also NCATE, 2000; State Education Department, 2001) The recognition of increased diversity in students goes through, and beyond, considerations of how best to teach math, science, or literacy and seems implicitly to demand an interdisciplinary approach for all teacher candidates: Teacher candidates must have a thorough understanding of professional and pedagogical knowledge... to facilitate student learning for all students. They reflect on their practice and make necessary adjustments to enhance students' learning. They know how students learn and how to make ideas accessible to them. They consider school, family, and community contexts in connecting concepts to students' prior experience. (NCATE, 2000, p. 3) In addressing an increasingly diverse body of students—in the borough of Queens in New York City, roughly 50 languages are spoken—it would seem necessary that math, science, history, and English teachers should at least talk to each other about best practices in education that go beyond the limits of subject boundaries. In addition, the state of New York, as well as national teacher education program certifiers (see NCATE, 2000), mandates an additional course in language literacy and culture to address the "multilingual, multicultural, and cross-cultural understandings" (Queens College, internal memorandum, August 28,2001; see Sobelman, 1996, p. 8) that affect teaching and learning. As we have seen, discipline boundaries are vague and more slippery than we typically assume, and teachers such as Vince almost unconsciously take an interdisciplinary approach. There is a reason, however, that accreditation agencies ask that all subject-based teacher candidates must "work with students, families, and communities;" must learn to recognize that, as future teachers, they may need to adjust their own dispositions; and must be "able to make such adjustments" (NCATE, 2000, p. 3). The underlying reason is that although the learning population is increasingly diverse, the teaching population is not:

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The typical candidate for teacher education in the United States and Canada is a White, Anglo-Saxon, lower- or middle-class female who has grown up in a suburban or rural area. She is monolingual in English, has traveled very little beyond a 100-mile radius of her home, and has attended a local college or university close to her home. She hopes to teacher average, middle-class children in a community similar to the one in which she grew up. (Wideen et al., 1998, p. 141) Despite a discontinuity between an increasingly diverse body of students and a relatively homogeneous body of teachers, foundations courses must address another interdisciplinary issue. The culture of subject-based and subject-isolated academics in the United States has been remarkably consistent over the last hundred years, and various interdisciplinary reforms can be considered isolated hybrids of the norm (Cuban, 1984). Other research (Langeman, 2000; Ravitch, 2000) maintains that most attempts at educational reform have been ineffective and that teachers, parents, and students are resistant to almost all educational change (Johnson, 1995). There is strong evidence that such discipline-based and subject-isolated thinking remains remarkably persistent in conceiving of teaching and learning (Britzman, 1984). Education students, preservice and beginning teachers, secondary educators, and the community at large frequently have a simplistic, traditional understanding of the craft of teaching: a teacher simply standing at the head of the class, handing out subject-based information for students to memorize (see Richardson, 1996; Webber & Mitchell, 1996; Wideen et al., 1998). This conception of teaching and learning simply is not adequate to address the educational need of the United States today. RESTARTING INTERDISCIPLINARY CONVERSATION Given the diverse and quickly changing political, linguistic, and cultural landscape of the United States, it is unlikely that secondary- or college-level teachers will be able to maintain a conception of teaching and learning that is subject-isolated. For instance, teachers of Spanish now are challenged to conceive of language acquisition and competence as directly related to cultural issues, emigration patterns, and the diverse cultural landscapes inhabited by Spanish-speaking groups. Teachers of English now are teachers of literature in translation, as well as teachers of an increasingly rich body of Latino, Africana, or women's literature. Social studies and history teachers are very much teachers of writing and thinking who value a multicultural perspective. Process writing, reader-response criticism, and authentic and portfolio assessment have become not uncommon in traditional subject areas of the arts and sciences. All subject-based teachers have come to deal with a world in which knowledge is increasingly seen as socially construed and nonobjective (Mayher, 1990).

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From a historical perspective this chapter has maintained that all subject disciplines have come to be relatively artificial distinctions, certainly with none of the logical hierarchy of the medieval trivium and quadrivium. Educational foundations courses provide an opportunity for a more intensive and extensive interdisciplinary discussion across these boundaries. This discussion has not typically been intensive in the one or two foundations courses that education students are required to take, nor has the interdisciplinary discussion been extensive because education students typically quickly move from foundations to subject-isolated methods courses. However, multidisciplinary conversations can improve the current reality of teaching and learning in the United States, particularly as it addresses increasingly diverse ways of making sense of the world. First, from the perspective of teacher education models, foundations must initiate an investigation into the various boundaries that limit teaching and learning, and these boundaries must be examined so that the natural instincts teachers have for interdisciplinarity is developed in a logical and coherent manner. Secondly, the interdisciplinary discussion must continue as students move from their one or two foundations courses into their subject-based education courses. This is particularly essential because all disciplines are mandated by states to address the increasingly diverse economic, linguistic, and cultural communities in which they are taught. Students from various disciplines who begin an interdisciplinary conversation must be allowed to continue this conversation in a rich way in their subjectbased methods courses. In short, many of the subject-discipline boundaries that have developed in the academy are simply unhelpful, whether those boundaries are philosophical, related to the constructivist-commonsense orientations; whether they are across the "wide street" of arts and sciences and schools of education; or simply whether they are across the boundaries of subject disciplines that are increasingly unhelpful for teaching and learning. Like the medieval trivium and quadrivium curriculum that became increasingly antiquated in light of the "new learning" typified by thinkers and writers such as Erasmus, the subject-bound curriculum in the academy today shows signs of being inadequate to reflect rich possibilities of teaching and learning. Subject-based teachers are discovering constructivist practices, just as constructivist practitioners are challenged by a politically driven movement of increased accountability and high-stakes testing. This chapter advocates that the current boundaries be acknowledged and that a more coherent and lucid conversation take place. These crossboundary conversations are particularly necessary in light of the more complex and diverse realities of teaching and learning in the United States today. For those of us in teacher education, these conversations and the issues they represent must be central to our foundations courses, and

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w a y s m u s t be found to p e r p e t u a t e these initial conversations b e y o n d f o u n d a t i o n s courses a n d into the discipline-based m e t h o d s courses.

REFERENCES Archimbault, R. (Ed.). (1965). John Dewey on education: Selected writings. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Asher, R., & Costigan, A. (in press). Art and the city: A case for collaborative education. New York: Teachers College Press. Ballou, D., & Podgursky, M. (1999). Reforming teacher preparation and licensing: What is the evidence? Teachers College Record. Retrieved September 2003 from http://www.tcrecord.org Bestor, A. (1953). Educational wastelands. Urbana: University of Illinois. Bronfenbrenner, U. (1970). Two worlds of childhood: U.S. and U.S.S.R. New York: Russell Sage Foundation. Britzman, D. (1984). Cultural myths in the making of a teacher: Biography and social structure in teacher education. Harvard Educational Review, 56(4), pp. 442-456. Brooks, J.G. & Brooks, M.G. (1993). The case for the constructivist classroom. Alexandria, VA: Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development. Clifford, G.C. & Guthrie, J.W. (1988). Ed school: A brief for professional education. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Coleman, J. S. (1963). The adolescent society. New York: Free Press. Conant, J. B. (1963). The education of American teachers. New York: McGraw-Hill. Costigan, A. (2000). Education students present their learning histories. Unpublished dissertation, New York University. Costigan, A. (2001, September). "It's like nothing you prepared us for": Emerging teachers' perceptions of high stakes testing. Paper presented at the annual conference of the British Educational Research Association, University of Leeds, UK. Retrieved September 9, 2003, from Education-line database at h t t p : / / www.leeds.ac.uk/educol/documents/00001860.htm Costigan, A. (2002, Spring). Teaching the culture of high stakes testing: Listening to new teachers. Action in Teacher Education: A Journal of the Association of Teacher Educators, 22(5), pp. 35-42. Csikszentmihalyi, M., & Schneider, B. (2000). Becoming adult: How teenagers prepare for the world. New York: Basic Books. Cuban, L. (1984). How teachers taught: Constancy and change in American classrooms, 1890-1980. New York: Longman. Darling-Hammond, L. (2001). Reforming teacher preparation and licensing: Debating the evidence. Teachers College Record. Retrieved September 9,2003, from http://www.tcrecord.org Dewey, J. (1890). The school and society. Chicago: University Chicago Press. Freidenberg, E. (1963). Coming of age in America: Growth and acquiescence. New York: Random House. Gaines, Donna. 1990,1991. Teenage Wasteland. New York: Random House. Goodman, P. (1960). Growing up absurd. New York: Random House Hirsch, E.D. (1988). Cultural literacy: What every American needs to know. New York: Vintage Books/Random House.

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Johnson, J., Farkas, S., & Bers, A. (1997). Getting by: What American teenagers really think about schools: A report from Public Agenda. C. Perry (Ed.). New York: Public Agenda. Johnson, J., & Immerwahr, J. (1994). Pirst things first: What Americans expect from the public schools. A. Kernan-Schloss (Ed.). New York: Public Agenda. Karier, C. J. (1986). The individual, society and education: A history of American educational ideas (2nd ed.). Urbana and Chicago: The University of Chicago. Kenniston, K. (1960). The uncommitted: Alienated youth in American society. New York: Delta (Dell). Kliebard, H. M. (1995). The struggle for the American curriculum: 1893-1958 (2nd ed.). New York: Routledge. Koerner, J. (1963). The miseducation of American teachers. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Laitsch, D. (2001, August). How states are responding: Legislation enacted in 2001. Policy Perspectives: Examining Public Policy Issues in Teacher Education, 2(6). American Association of Colleges for Teacher Education. Langeman, E. C. (2000). An elusive science: The troubling history of educational research. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Lowenfeld, V., & Brittain, W. L. (1975). Creative and mental growth (6th ed.). New York: Macmillan. Lucata, P. (2001, November 16). Do students benefit when professors adopt a "learning centered" approach? [Letter to the editors]. The Chronicle Review [section two]: The Chronicle of Higher Education, XLV7I(12). Mayher, J. (1990). Uncommon sense: Theoretical practice in language education. Portsmouth, NH: Boynton/Cook. McAdoo, M. (2001, January 24). Any warm body? The United Federation of Teachers: Reality Check. Retrieved September 9, 2003, from http://uft.org/index. cfm?fid = 203 National Commission on Excellence in Education. (1994). A nation at risk: The full account (3rd ed.). Portland, OR: USA Research. National Council for Accreditation of Teacher Education (NCATE). NCATE 2000 unit standards. Retrieved May 11, 2000, from http://www.ncate.org Powell, A. G., Farrar, E., & Cohen, D. K. (1985). The shopping mall high school. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Ravitch, D. (2000). Left back: A century offailed school reforms. New York: Simon and Schuster. Ravitch, D. & Vinovskis, M. A. (1995). Learning from the past: What history teaches us about school reform. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press. Richardson, V. (1996). The role of attitude and beliefs in learning to teach. In J. Sikula, T. Buttery, & E. Guyton (Eds.), Handbook of research on teacher education (2nd ed., pp. 102-119). New York: Macmillan. Rodriguez, E. (2001, August). The search for qualified teachers. Policy Perspectives: Examining Public Policy Issues in Teacher Education, 2(6). American Association of Colleges for Teacher Education. Rose, M. (1986). Lives on the boundary. New York: Penguin. Sobelman, M. (1996). Weaving a richly textured course: Developing "Inquiries into Teaching and Learning" [Monograph]. New York: New York University.

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State Education Department, The University of the State of New York. (2001). Proposals 2001; 3915-3922. General requirements for all programs MST and advanced certificate programs—initial certification. New York: Author. Tatum, B. (1992). Talking about race, learning about racism: The application of racial identity development. Harvard Educational Review, 62(1), 1-24. Thomas B. Fordham Foundation. Retrieved June 4, 2003, from http://www.edexcellence.net/ Webber, S., & Mitchell, C. (1996). Drawing ourselves into teaching: Studying the images that shape and distort teacher education. Teaching and Teacher Education, 12(3), pp. 303-313. Wideen, M., Mayer-Smith, J., & Moon, B. (1998, Summer). A critical analysis of the research on learning to teach: Making the case for an ecological perspective on inquiry. Review of Educational Research, 2(53), pp. 130-178.

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Chapter 3

Not-So-Foreign Languages: The Critical Inquiry Approach to Moving beyond Disciplines Terry A. Osborn

THE NATURE OF THE LANGUAGE CURRICULUM There could be an understandable tendency among language educators to view the discipline of language education as the one example of a truly interdisciplinary discipline. This claim could be supported by the argument that no subject can be taught without language. We can point to a number of issues discussed in the language class, such as great artists and scientists of the countries where the target language (language being taught) is spoken. As part of our courses, we also commonly teach political science, cuisine, drama, film, literature, cultural studies, history, mathematics, and even English grammar. We tend to group all the facets of language education into one of five categories: speaking, reading, writing, listening, and culture. As Kramsch (1993) explains: One often reads in teachers' guidelines that language teaching consists of teaching the four skills [reading, writing, listening, and speaking] "plus culture." This dichotomy of language and culture is an entrenched feature of language teaching around the world. It is part of the linguistic heritage of the profession. Whether it is called (Fr.) civilisation, (G.) Landeskunde, or (Eng.) culture, culture is often seen as mere information conveyed by the language, not as a feature of language itself; cultural awareness becomes an educational objective in itself, separate from language, (p. 8) Though there is great rhetorical appeal to the concept of language as the interdisciplinary discipline, in fact such a line of logic is fallaciously conflating the discipline-defined subject(s) of study with the medium of study. Certainly the medium of language in learning is not limited to a

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language class. However, the science of learning is not limited to science classes, the history of learning not limited to history classes, the art of learning not limited to art classes, and so on. I begin this chapter with a discussion of the realm of language education as defined by the authorities in the field. Then I briefly review some approaches to conceptualizing and preparing teachers to work beyond disciplinary boundaries of foreign language education. Then, I discuss the development of critical educational studies in foreign language education, after which I outline my suggestion to begin the Critical Language Inquiry Cycle (CLIC), a process of critical pedagogy in the foreign language classroom. Finally, I explore how the CLIC in the foreign language classroom can inform interdisciplinary work in our unique educational setting. Standards for Foreign Language Learning: Preparing for the 21st Century, often simply referred to as the ACTFL standards or the five Cs (i.e., communication, cultures, connections, comparisons, and communities), represents a collaborative effort of American Council of Teachers of Foreign Languages (ACTFL), the American Association of Teachers of French, the American Association of Teachers of German, and the American Association of Teachers of Spanish and Portuguese. It is also relevant to put into context what the ACTFL standards are meant to be, as an excerpt from Standards for Foreign Language Learning explains: The standards do not describe the current status of foreign language education in this country. While they reflect the best instructional practice, they do not describe what is being attained by the majority of foreign language students. The [ACTFL standards] will not be achieved overnight; rather they provide a gauge against which to measure improvement in the years to come. (National Standards in Foreign Language Education Project, 1996, p. 25) The standards then are written to serve as a regulative ideal for practitioners and planners who are currently in practice. The standards' authors themselves acknowledge this in two places: in their statement that "standards have defined the agenda for the next decade—and beyond" (p. 15) and in the acknowledgments as the authors thank "the collaborating organizations and the Board of Directors for demonstrating the power that professional unity can achieve" (p. 5). Undoubtedly, the standards have had tremendous impact on the field. Solomon (1997) reported on preliminary results of a national survey regarding local curricula changes due to the introduction of the ACTFL standards: almost half of the surveyed schools responded that their curriculum had changed due to an awareness of the standards. The standards call for language learning to occur among the five areas of communication, communities, cultures, connections, and comparisons. Stemming from the argument that the elements are woven together in the

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curriculum with learning strategies, other disciplines, cultural knowledge, and critical thinking skills (to name just a few examples), the standards explicitly set five goals as paramount for students. Students should (1) communicate in languages other than English, (2) gain knowledge and understanding of other cultures, (3) connect with other disciplines and acquire information through them, (4) develop insight into the nature of language and culture, and (5) participate in multilingual communities at home and around the world (National Standards, p. 9). The standards play a significant role in setting an agenda for language education. However, language educators as well have sought ways to move beyond the disciplinary barriers of the classroom, in terms of pedagogy and instructional content (Biron, 1998; Gehlker, Gozzi, & Zeller, 1999; Osborn, 1998; Overfield, 1997). These trends reflect the values offered by the framers of Standards for Foreign Language Learning: The conscious effort to connect the foreign language curriculum with other parts of students' academic lives opens doors to information and experiences which enrich the entire school and life experience. Those connections flow from other areas to the foreign language classroom and also originate in the foreign language classroom to add unique experiences and insights to the rest of the curriculum. (National Standards, 1996, p. 49) Regarding the collegiate level, perhaps the most extensive volume related to interdisciplinary endeavors involving the language classroom is Languages across the Curriculum: Interdisciplinary Structures and Internationalized Education, edited by Kecht and von Hammerstein (2000). A number of contributing authors to this volume outline issues that are germane to our consideration here. Byrnes (2000) notes that curriculum renewal is experiencing an epiphany of late in the foreign language field, arguing that many departments have replaced a primarily philological or literary focus with what has been called a Cultural Studies approach. Second, departments attempted to expand a narrow disciplinary orientation to cross-disciplinary, at times even interdisciplinary, perspectives, involving not only the content foci of diverse fields such as anthropology, sociology, education, history, politics, and economics, but also their diverse methodologies and standards of scholarship. And, finally, the Languages Across the Curriculum movement and, more recently, various models for content-based language instruction (CBI) responded to broad changes in our field and society at large, often by at least rhetorically reasserting the inherent linkage between language, literature, and culture, (p. 155) Swaffar (2000) criticizes the predominant approach of primarily teaching spoken language at the introductory level of language courses and then utilizing short texts in the second year. She points out that "besides failing

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to provide students with content and discursive continuity, that hierarchy illustrates few applications of context as bearer of meaning... textbook passages in beginning classes seldom link reading selections to the learner's knowledge base in other disciplines" (p. 125). Leaver and Bilstein (2000) argue that content-based instructional programs tend to bring to light complex trade-offs in language development among issues of accuracy, fluency, and strategic and linguistic competence. Finally, Berman (2000) draws on the notion of cultural literacy, though rejecting its neoconservative call for an American consciousness, to advocate a "curriculum based on a foreign cultural literacy [the rationale for which] is the urgency of cultivating an international knowledge among American students, otherwise at risk of slipping into a great-power parochialism" (p. 73). In other cases, foreign language educators attempt to draw on other models of language education, notably that of Teachers of English to Speakers of Other Languages (TESOL) or bilingual education, to meld variety in content and language. Dual-language instructional programs, for example, have as a foundation "a complex mosaic involving theory, research, and discourse from several different areas of scholarship and inquiry" (Lessow-Hurley, 1996, p. xii). Preparing language teachers to work using interdisciplinary frames can be especially challenging, though in our teacher education program in the Neag School of Education at the University of Connecticut, we have a close relationship with the Glastonbury, Connecticut, school district and have been able to give the teachers hands-on experience in developing interdisciplinary learning materials for students. A year prior to receiving their master's degrees, student interns in our integrated bachelor's / m a s ter's program work with Christine Brown, the coordinator of foreign languages for the district and past president of ACTFL. The students and faculty collaboratively developed curriculum enhancements that began with framing questions posed by students as "grand questions" and then developed units that addressed those questions through the medium of the foreign language (C. Brown, personal communication, September 4, 2002). THE ROLE OF CULTURAL MEDIATION IN LANGUAGE TEACHING A growing body of literature points to another important issue in the consideration of interdisciplinary approaches in language education. The study of foreign language education in the United States from a sociocultural and critical perspective has experienced significant growth in recent years, though language educators in TESOL have an established tradition of this kind (see the Autumn 1999 TESOL Quarterly for a dedicated issue on critical approaches to TESOL). Regarding foreign language, Ortega

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(1999), for e x a m p l e , explored ideological a n d structural constraints in foreign l a n g u a g e e d u c a t i o n in this setting. Roca (1999), explaining the limitations in Florida's a t t e m p t s to articulate a foreign l a n g u a g e policy in higher education, c o n c l u d e d that "the failure of foreign l a n g u a g e e d u c a t i o n in the U n i t e d States is often b l a m e d on p o o r p e d a g o g y a n d unqualified teachers, w h e n in reality p a r t of the p r o b l e m is systemic, the result of politics, p o o r p l a n n i n g , a n d p o o r policies" (p. 304). H e r m a n ' s (2002) historiog r a p h i c t r e a t m e n t of the profession n o t e d that the foreign l a n g u a g e teaching profession w a s in the ticklish position of doing cross-cultural analysis while extolling the culture of the United States as, in the end, supreme. In addition, study of material considered hazardous to impressionable children and youth would have to be avoided; all study must work toward the creation of an American culture and loyal American citizens. Finally, all practically oriented language instruction should be in the service of American economic and political goals abroad, (p. 15) My own work in sensitizing teachers to elements of foreignness within the foreign l a n g u a g e c u r r i c u l u m i n c l u d e d the following assertion: In effect, by assuming that all non-English languages are somehow related to that which is foreign, language educational endeavors serve to reinforce a language identity by default. Though challenges to English as an official language are often mounted, within the realm of commonsense, the national and official languages of the United States are both, and only, English. Nondominant-language speakers are thereby marginalized as the media of their expression take on a devalued position. A student who chooses to adopt the view of the dominant culture, therefore, is put in a position of assimilating linguistically. Further, those students who speak American English as a native language are firm in their beliefs that English is the language of the United States. (Osborn, 2000, p. 87) Reye's (2002) discussion of her o w n experiences as a s p e a k e r a n d teacher of Spanish h a s a d d e d to the literature, as h a s her call for a reform of lang u a g e curricula along the lines of authentic m i g r a t o r y experiences. Tollefson's (2002) e d i t e d v o l u m e on l a n g u a g e policy in e d u c a t i o n includes Wiley's (2002) analysis of l a n g u a g e rights in a U.S. context. T i m o t h y Reag a n a n d I h a v e a t t e m p t e d to b r i n g the issues s t u d i e d from the perspective of critical t h e o r y to the attention of l a n g u a g e e d u c a t o r s in The Foreign Language Educator in Society: Toward a Critical Pedagogy, a r g u i n g that we take as a given that foreign language education in American public schools is largely unsuccessful at producing individuals competent in second languages. We also take as a given that this lack of success is not due to any particular methodological or pedagogical failure on the part of foreign language teachers.... These factors alone do not, and cannot, however, explain the overwhelming nature of our failure to achieve our articulated goals. Rather, in order to explain why foreign language edu-

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cation is relatively unsuccessful in contemporary American society, we need to look more critically at the social, political, cultural, historical, and economic context in which foreign language education takes place. (Reagan & Osborn, 2002, p. 2) These critical insights, as well as the standards, have fueled a growing interest in curriculum development in the field. CURRICULUM DEVELOPMENT At this point, I will explore how the CLIC can achieve multiple objectives simultaneously. It can decentralize curriculum development, respond to the increasing need for critical language awareness in the curriculum, and it can lead to the meaningful integration of disciplines in the language classroom. In the United States, approaches to both developing and understanding curricula typically utilize a hierarchical view of the curriculum development process. Though these approaches do emphasize the importance of the connections and recursiveness inherent in the curricular process, they unfortunately also present a serious challenge to understanding the development, implementation, and evaluation of democratic, and especially critical, approaches to curriculum. Martel illustrates this point when noting that there is a sense today that ideas, institutions, and political structures resting on the vertical [hierarchical] axis represent a deficit model of human organisation. Largely products and constructs of the Western world and of its political culture, like the Nation-State, products exported with Western Europe's historical worldwide displacement of its internal competitions and wars, they are not adapted to meet the budding axial shift [to collaborative/horizontal frames]. They are not structures based on peace and sharing. On the contrary, they are based on competition and even warfare. (2000, p. 154) Martel's point can be applied to the issue of curricula and curriculum development in the broader sense, since the process or construct of curriculum development as now practiced in foreign language education in the United States is a construct and product of the Western world and its intellectual tradition. As a result, a critical approach to foreign language education will involve the decentralization of the curriculum and instructional reform process. Therefore, language educators at all levels will have a significant voice in a critical reformation of the field. A METALINGUISTIC KNOWLEDGE BASE Critical insights into foreign language education suggest that the curriculum will need to move beyond the formula of "four skills plus cul-

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ture" to include issues of the ways in which languages function in a sociocultural context such as the U.S. democracy. A partial list of issues that would need to be explored includes • • • • • • • •

the social context of language use, the nature and implications of code switching and code mixing, bilingualism and multilingualism as individual and social norms, ideology and language, issues of language standardization and linguistic purism, the concept of linguistic legitimacy, the historical development of language, and the nature of literacy and the concept of multiple literacies (see Reagan & Osborn, 2002).

Though traditionally such issues have been dealt with only in sporadic ways in foreign language classrooms, based on the understanding and comfort level of individual teachers, changes in curricula could include the investigation of such issues through the use of a critical language curriculum. As part of the critical language curriculum, I propose the implementation of the CLIC. CRITICAL LANGUAGE INQUIRY CYCLE The CLIC is based on a critical approach to qualitative research. Qualitative researchers view the truth as holistic, consider the researcher's values intrinsic to the research process, and acknowledge the evolving nature of research questions and activity. The CLIC does not presuppose an overly specific research question nor a particularly predictable outcome. It is a process of exploration that can be entered into by students and teacher together, in their individual contexts. It consists of four phases, as illustrated in Figure 3.1. Informed Investigation The investigation begins or continues the cycle. It presupposes that some information precedes the gathering of additional information. For a beginner's language class, it may involve a simple question to start the process: "How do languages vary?" Students then begin to explore the possible variations of language as seen in their own communities. They can expand that lens from a town to a state or region or country using the Internet and other resources. Once they have gathered a quantity of data sufficient to proceed to the next level, students and teachers begin the phase of inductive analysis.

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Figure 3.1 The Critical Language Inquiry Cycle

Inductive Analysis The process of inductive analysis is described b y E r l a n d s o n , Harris, Skipper, a n d Allen (1993): A newborn has an amazing capacity for gathering and analyzing an array of data. He or she comes into the world knowing virtually nothing and is bombarded by tastes, smells, sights, and sounds. Conclusions emerge as he or she begins to understand and relate to the immediate world. For instance, a smile or chuckle is an appropriate response to an adult making an absurd face or repeating nonsensical phrases. A cry will get dinner or a diaper change. As time goes on the young child begins to use language to classify the unstructured experiences that surround him or her. Words, phrases, and gestures help in communicating with others and in reinforcing the conclusions drawn about the environment. This natural inductive analysis—or constructing meaning from a multitude of heterogeneous, specific data—is often stifled in the formal educational process and must be relearned for most adults, (p. 80) I n d u c t i v e analysis is a process w h e r e b y o n e a t t e m p t s to m a k e sense of p h e n o m e n a in themes, categories, t r e n d s , or similar related p a t t e r n s .

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Returning to our example of language variation, students may find that languages do come in variations. Perhaps they will see the patterns as "correct" and "incorrect" language varieties. Though linguists would reject such categorizations of rule-governed language varieties, such issues can be explored in subsequent phases. Tentative Conclusions The tentative conclusions phase would involve articulating the patterns in such a way that we can then examine them for the biases we each hold. Returning to the language varieties example, perhaps the conclusions would be as follows: Some speakers of the second language (L2) in our community speak following the rules we learn in class. Some speakers of the L2 speak in ways not following the rules we learn in class. The articulated tentative conclusions then are examined in terms of critical pedagogical insights. Specifically, one seeks to deconstruct the meanings we attribute to various concepts and seeks to illuminate ideological influences in the conclusions through the process of mutual critical reflection (MCR). Mutual Critical Reflection Mutual critical reflection in the CLIC begins with the acknowledgment that the tentative conclusions reached are not objective but valueladen. MCR begins with teacher-student dialogues exploring our own privilege, power, and powerlessness. In the example at hand, teacher and students may discuss the role of the school in defining what constitutes correct or incorrect language use. This phase then proceeds to a classroom-community dialogue in which students and teachers explore the subjective nature of our endeavors in education, the importance of understanding that there is a relationship among our position of power and the knowledge we learn and produce in the schools of the United States. In terms of the language variety exercise, students and teachers could explore the differences between correct and incorrect, or rulegoverned and rule-violating, examples of language. The process ends with a recognition of the limitation of the inquiry cycle, articulation and acceptance of contradictions, and an avoidance of meta-theories or allinclusive conclusions. The results of the MCR phase become the "informed" part of the next informed investigation and the cycle continues, with teachers and students identifying the information they wish to explore next.

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As language skills develop, the CLIC becomes a vehicle through which language becomes the landscape and the medium of inquiry. A symbiosis results. Language proficiency is strengthened through the CLIC and activities developed to support it; and the CLIC is strengthened through language proficiency, because the insights of speakers of the L2 can be accessed through the medium of the language. THE POTENTIAL ROLE OF THE CLIC IN INTERDISCIPLINARY WORK The CLIC can play a potent role in the future of interdisciplinary work in the foreign language classroom. Since the inquiry cycle is largely driven by local contexts rather than by centralized curricular objectives, language students and educators are free to inquire into grand questions using the medium and the subject matter of language. If students wanted to look into the issue of resistance, for example, the CLIC could involve the disciplinary contributions of history, political science, and media studies, in addition to language. As an example of such a unit, let us assume that a teacher of German, a teacher of social studies, and a teacher of media studies would like to illustrate the concept of political resistance. Many times students who take German and world history (social studies) do not have a realistic understanding of the Nazi atrocities. In the past, I have had students whose insight was summed up with a comment on how "the marching was cool" and others who attributed the viciousness of the regime to the German population as a whole. Though Goldhagen (1996) has argued that one cannot only lay blame on the Nazi Party or the SS, there are also well-documented instances of resistance by Germans, notably in those groups referred to as the Red Orchestra and the White Rose. The Red Orchestra, or Rote Kapelle, as it was known by the Gestapo, was a circle of smaller resistance groups in Germany that emerged in the late 1930s to be discovered in the summer of 1942. Arvid and Mildred Harnack and Harro and Libertas Schulze-Boysen distributed anti-Nazi leaflets and communicated with Soviet intelligence in an attempt to oppose the National Socialist regime. The Harnack and Schulze-Boysen organization members were accused of being part of a Soviet espionage ring; and, beginning in late 1942, sentences of death for more than 50 members of the group were carried out by order of the Reich Military Court (Steinbach, 1990). At the University of Munich, meanwhile, siblings Hans and Sophie Scholl began to condemn the deceit of the National Socialists and were instrumental in the publication and delivery of leaflets at the university and throughout Germany They were joined by classmates in their deeds and were encouraged by one professor, Kurt Huber. While placing flyers in the lecture hall one day, a building superintendent observed the Scholls and reported them to the Gestapo. The Scholls and many in the group

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known as the White Rose were executed for their resistance. Today, streets at the university in Munich are named in their honor, and their sacrifice is remembered annually. The courage of their resistance is perhaps best explained by their sister, Inge: It was an instance in which five or six students took it upon themselves to act while the dictatorship was totally in control; in which they accepted the lonely burden of not being able to discuss these matters with their families; in which they took action even though the omnipotent state allowed them no room to maneuver; in which they acted in spite of the fact that they could do no more than tear small rifts in the structure of that state—much less blast out the cornerstones.... It is rare that a man is prepared to pay with his life for such a minimal achievement as causing cracks in the edifice of the existing order. (Scholl, 1983, p. 103) The stories of resistance can prove to be not only inspirational for students but quite applicable to the struggles that elements of the population face today in a climate of increasing animosity toward linguistic diversity. Native speakers engage in resistance as they refuse to assimilate both culturally and linguistically. When speakers of Spanish, for example, refuse to allow employers to ban their language from the workplace, and when they take those challenges to court, they are involved in resistance. Within the language classroom, the historical and contemporary journalistic accounts of political resistance can provide the impetus to begin the informed investigation phase. Students can begin the collection of data in terms of what kind of resistance they see. The media accounts of protests by certain sociolinguistic groups, as well as interviews of people in the students' community, can become part of the data collection process. If the focus of the CLIC in terms of resistance is evaluated against criteria established for interdisciplinary units in the language classroom, one sees that the CLIC fits well into such a framework. The component parts to be evaluated are connective validity and comparative integrity. Connective validity, according to Osborn (2001), would include the following elements: 1. integration of communicative aspects in the skills of reading, writing, listening, or speaking; 2. subjectification1 of the domestic (or "home") perspective; and 3. attention to the related global or local realities of pluralism, including any role played by language diversity. Comparative integrity suggests that the unit themes or material include 1. an emic, or insider's, representation of the cultural information; 2. an avoidance of bifurcatious categorization (for example, "we/they"); and 3. articulation of multiple perspectives within the "home" culture.

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Utilizing the criteria established in connective validity and comparative integrity, I now turn to an evaluation of the proposed CLIC. The integration of communicative aspects in the skills of reading, writing, listening, or speaking is established by the teacher in design of appropriate activities to support the CLIC. Subjectification of the domestic perspective is established as students explore and discover a wide range of examples and perspectives of resistance throughout the world. In essence, subjectification is accomplished by giving students a broader epistemological context from which to make sense of resistance by various sociocultural groups. Finally, because resistance is a common occurrence when diverse linguistic groups are in contact with one another, the criterion of attention to realities of pluralism is satisfied. In terms of comparative integrity, the emic representation is always quite challenging, but the MCR phase will be indispensable in achieving this objective. The bifurcatious categorization and an articulation of multiple perspectives within the "home" culture can be avoided as, within the classroom, the heterogeneity of perception and the role of ideology are discussed. In summary, using the CLIC to explore issues of resistance would be an appropriate utilization of the foreign language classroom in an interdisciplinary and critical exploratory frame. CONCLUSION Language classrooms in a pluralistic democracy with no official language provide unique challenges to the implementation of interdisciplinary units and activities. As the field of foreign language education begins to look more critically at its own endeavor and recognizes and assumes its role in political activity, the infusion of critical language awareness into the curriculum could further complicate moving beyond the confines of disciplinary boundaries. As demonstrated in this chapter, however, the CLIC can achieve multiple objectives simultaneously. Thus, as language teachers begin to move to the center of core experiences for all students, those who take part in the classes can begin journeys of learning no longer limited to the age-old formula of four skills plus culture. Bon voyage! NOTE 1. Subjectification in this sense is to contextualize the curriculum by making curricular elements relate to properties or specific conditions of the mind as distinguished from general or universal experience; relating to the nature of an object as it is known in the mind (or in the official knowledge of schools) as distinct from a thing in itself (see Webster's Encyclopedic Unabridged Dictionary of the English Language entries for subjectify and subjective. Compare with objectify). For a discussion of the impact of objectification on curricula and pedagogy, see Giroux (1997).

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REFERENCES Berman, R.A. (2000). Foreign cultural literacy: Language learning and cultural studies. In M. Kecht & K. von Hammerstein (Eds.), Languages across the curriculum: Interdisciplinary structures and internationalized education (pp. 63-78). Columbus, OH: National East Asian Languages Resource Center. Biron, C. (1998). Bringing the standards to life: Points of departure. Foreign Language Annals 31(4), pp. 584-594. Byrnes, H. (2000). Languages across the curriculum—intradepartmental curriculum construction: Issues and options. In M. Kecht & K. von Hammerstein (Eds.), Languages across the curriculum: Interdisciplinary structures and internationalized education (pp. 151-176). Columbus, OH: National East Asian Languages Resource Center. Erlandson, D. A., Harris, E. L., Skipper, B. L., & Allen, S. D. (1993). Doing naturalistic inquiry: A guide to methods. Newbury Park, CA: Sage. Gehlker, M., Gozzi, M. L., and Zeller, I. (1999). Teaching the Holocaust in the foreign language classroom. NECTFL Review, 46, pp. 20-29. Giroux, H. A. (1997). Pedagogy and the politics of hope: Theory, culture and schooling. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Goldhagen, D. J. (1996). Hitler's willing executioners: Ordinary Germans and the Holocaust. New York: Random House. Herman, D.M. (2002). "Our patriotic duty": Insights from professional history, 1890-1920. In T. A. Osborn (Ed.), The future of foreign language education in the United States (pp. 1-30). Westport, CT: Bergin & Garvey. Kecht, M., & von Hammerstein, K. (Eds.). (2000). Languages across the curriculum: Interdisciplinary structures and internationalized education. Columbus, OH: National East Asian Languages Resource Center. Kramsch, C. (1993). Context and culture in language teaching. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Leaver, B.L., & Bilstein, P.M. (2000). Content, language, and task in content-based programs. In M. Kecht and K. von Hammerstein (Eds.), Languages across the curriculum: Interdisciplinary structures and internationalized education (pp. 79-118). Columbus, OH: National East Asian Languages Resource Center. Lessow-Hurley, J. (1996). The foundations of dual language instruction (2nd ed.). White Plains, NY: Longman. Martel, A. 2000. Paradoxes of plurilingualism. For better? For worse? And beyond? In R. Phillipson (Ed.), Rights to language: Equity, power, and education. Celebrating the 60th birthday ofTove Skutnabb-Kangas (pp. 151-159). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. National Standards in Foreign Language Education Project. (1996). Standards for foreign language learning: Preparing for the 21st century. Lawrence, KS: Allen Press. Ortega, L. (1999). Language and equality: Ideological and structural constraints in foreign language education in the U.S. In T. Huebner & K. A. Davis (Eds.), Sociopolitical perspectives on language policy and planning in the USA (pp. 243-266). Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing. Osborn, T. A. (1998). Providing access: Foreign language learners and genre theory. Foreign Language Annals, 31(1), pp. 40-47.

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Osborn, T. A. (2000). Critical reflection and the foreign language classroom. Westport, CT: Bergin & Garvey. Overfield, D.M. (1997). From the margins to the mainstream: Foreign language education and community-based learning. Foreign Language Annals, 30(4), pp. 485-491. Reagan, T. G., & Osborn, T. A. (2002). The foreign language educator in society: Toward a critical pedagogy. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Reyes, X.A. (2002). Authentic "migratory" experiences for language learners: Macrocontextualization as critical pedagogy. In T.A. Osborn (Ed.), The future of foreign language education in the United States (pp. 167-178). Westport, CT: Bergin & Garvey. Roca, A. (1999). Foreign language policy and planning in higher education: The case of the state of Florida. In T. Huebner & K. A. Davis (Eds.), Sociopolitical perspectives on language policy and planning in the USA (pp. 297-312). Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing. Scholl, I. (1983). The White Rose: Munich 1942-43 (A.R. Schultz, Trans.). Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press. Solomon, J. (1997, September). Language teachers align curricula with standards: Preliminary results of a national survey. ERIC/CLL News Bulletin, 21(1), pp. 1, 6-7. Steinbach, P. 1990. Gedenkstatte deutscher Widerstand/The German Resistance Memorial Center: Exhibition resistance to national socialism (J.M. Grossman, Trans.). Berlin: Helmich KG. Swaffar, J. (2000). Doing things with language: Acquiring discourse literacy through languages across the curriculum. In M. Kecht & K. von Hammerstein (Eds.), Languages across the curriculum: Interdisciplinary structures and internationalized education (pp. 119-150). Columbus, OH: National East Asian Languages Resource Center. Tollefson, J. W. (Ed.). (2002). Language policies in education: Critical issues. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Wiley, T.G. (2002). Accessing language rights in education: A brief history of the U.S. context. In J.W. Tollefson (Ed.), Language policies in education: Critical issues (pp. 39-64). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

Chapter 4

The End of Science... and Where Other Disciplines Begin: Exploring the Nature of

Science David M. Moss

Over the course of the twentieth century, science has pervaded our popular culture. Even though we are subjected to a constant bombardment of scientific information, from the latest medical breakthroughs to advice on nutrition, we may often misunderstand the institution of science. Given that science is very much a social endeavor, both shaping and responding to our collective needs, the reality that relatively few individuals hold the reins of power in this domain is alarming. As we examine science within the context of society, we see a false dichotomy situated in both praise and blame. On one hand science exists as the panacea of the modern age—offering us the promise of miracle cures while leading us down a path of technologically enhanced efficiency toward improved quality of life. Conversely, it is portrayed as a modern miscreant—polluting our air and making us sick, all the while enslaving us with the latest gadgets and shielding us from a simpler way of life. Science as an enterprise has ballooned in the twentieth century. Ironically, our daily dose of science has made it ubiquitous, which may partially explain the fundamental lack of understanding associated with it. How would you define science? I invite you to take a moment to consider a working definition and perhaps to pen a few synonyms that capture the essence of this discipline. Common responses from my undergraduate students in science methods courses over the years have included "technology," "discovery/' and "innovation." A recent study in which I inquired into high school students' conceptions of the essence or nature of science (Moss, Abrams, & Robb, 2001) yielded definitions such as the following: "Everything is science... whether we know it or not. Science is done everywhere, whether you notice it or not. I think we use [sci-

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ence] without even knowing it a lot of the time," and "Science is like everything, I guess... and I think everything has a science to it. [When] baking cookies you have to add the right amount of eggs and milk and stuff like that. Say I wanted to build a house; there is a science to that." Students in this research project went on to explain that science was involved in making car repairs as well. That is, these young people saw science as an ordered, systematic process and yet placed little value on the content domain of the knowledge associated with a methodical way of approaching a task. As we examine the science curriculum within public schools , we typically see an overstuffed laundry list of scientific vocabulary as defining science. As a result, the prescribed course of study and associated assessment strategies are grounded in nothing more than the conveyance, memorization, and recitation of scientific trivia as the basis for learning. In this educational environment in which the coverage of seemingly endless content is the primary mission, there is little regard for the critical question of "What science understanding has the most value?" Whether science is defined as primarily process or content, the boundaries and extent of the realm of science seem to be ignored or poorly understood. If the institution of science is to serve as our ally as we face the many environmental and economic challenges of the new millennium, we must first be able to understand its many facets within the context of our society. Fostering scientific literacy via a rich understanding of the nature of science should therefore be the principal aim of science education. What are the limits and gifts of contemporary science? How does science relate to other ways of knowing? Without addressing these questions, it will be impossible to meet our goals of cultivating a well-informed, scientifically literate citizenry who embrace science as a powerful means of coming to know our world. DEFINING THE NATURE OF SCIENCE Science curricula vary greatly among schools from different districts, states, and countries. Although no consensus exists regarding the specific content to be included in present-day science courses or even the methods of instruction to be used, at least there appears to be strong agreement on one aspect of science instruction. The development of an understanding of the nature of science by K-12 students is widely advocated as an outcome of science instruction (American Association for the Advancement of Science [AAAS], 1989; Lederman, Abd-El-Khalick, Bell, & Schwartz, 2002; National Research Council [NRC], 1996; National Science Teachers Association [NSTA], 1982). A principal reason for this is that an understanding of the nature of science has been identified by scientists, science educators,

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and education policymakers as a key element toward achieving the overarching goal of scientific literacy (Meichtry, 1993). The nature of science is defined broadly by the developers of the Project 2061 reform initiative (AAAS, 1989,1993). It is characterized by three principal components: (1) the scientific world view, in which the world is understandable, scientific ideas are subject to change, scientific knowledge is durable, and science cannot provide complete answers to all questions; (2) scientific methods of inquiry, in which science demands evidence, science explains and predicts, science is a blend of logic and imagination, and scientists try to identify and avoid bias; and (3) the nature of the scientific enterprise, in which science is a complex social activity organized into disciplines. These various components illustrate that humans can come to understand various phenomena of our natural world through systematic study, yet also emphasize the tentative nature of scientific knowledge. In describing the nature of the science, the authors of AAAS (1989) go on to state that the means used to develop these ideas [about our natural world] are particular ways of observing, thinking, experimenting, and validating. These ways represent a fundamental aspect of the nature of science and reflect how science tends to differ from other modes of knowing, (p. 25) Moore (1985) further describes science as a way of knowing: It is important to emphasize that science as a way of knowing is but one way of knowing. What we know in science must be based, in the final analysis, on data derived from observation and/or experiment relative to some natural phenomena. Those data must be... verifiable, (p. 487) That is, a scientific way of knowing relies heavily upon empirical observation. By characterizing the nature of science, one can begin to differentiate between scientific ways of knowing and other modes of knowing, such as spiritual ways of knowing that are bound by other covenants such as faith. In earlier work, Kimball (1968) developed a theoretical model of the nature of science based in part on the notion that curiosity is the fundamental driving force of science. Kimball also based this model on the belief that a basic characteristic of the nature of science is belief in the susceptibility of the physical universe to human ordering and understanding. In this sense, science serves to channel our natural inquisitiveness, providing us a framework for knowing. Kimball also noted that tentativeness and uncertainty are indicative of all sciences, which underscores the limitations and fragility of what it is we have come to understand. Similarly, Cothram and Smith (1981) use the terms tentative and revisionary to define

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the nature of science. They point out that people who understand the tentative nature of science as opposed to thinking of science as a collection of immutable facts are less likely to be cynical regarding knowledge claims made by the scientific community. In an attempt to define and characterize the nature of science, Meichtry (1993) points out that the nature of science itself and the nature of scientific knowledge warrant distinction. She notes that these two important dimensions are often used interchangeably and concludes that the nature of science is a broader concept than that of scientific knowledge. This broader notion of the nature of science embodies the nature of scientific knowledge and the nature of the scientific enterprise (process). Additionally, Good (1996) makes the distinction between scientific knowledge and scientific thinking. Both distinctions, I believe, distinguish scientific content from scientific processes. Parker and Rubin (1966) provide excellent definitions of both scientific process and content. Content is defined as "learning material... which may consist of a related body of facts, laws, theories, and generalizations, as in a traditional science course" (p. 1). Rubba and Anderson (1978) developed a model of the nature of scientific knowledge in which scientific knowledge is defined as amoral, creative, developmental, parsimonious, testable, and unified. Showalter (1974) used the terms tentative, public, replicable, and empirical to describe the nature of scientific knowledge. Parker and Rubin conclude that content is often transferred to the student. Process, on the other hand, Parker and Rubin (1966) defined as all of the random, or ordered, operations that can be associated with human activities. There are a variety of processes through which knowledge is created. There are also processes for utilizing knowledge and for communicating it. Processes are involved in arriving at decisions— The scientist engages in what is perhaps the crucial process of his [or her] labor when he [or she] fabricates questions for which answers must be found, (p. 2) When process is emphasized within the science content domain, Parker and Rubin state that knowledge becomes the vehicle rather than the destination. They also note that knowledge keeps no better than freshly caught fish, which is even more true today than it was over three decades ago when they penned those words. Ultimately, the relationship between content and process is more complex and interactive than many educators may have originally thought (Prawat, 1992). Today, the NRC (1996) supports the position that the process of scientific inquiry should not be separated from scientific content. That is, scientific ways of knowing should be couched within a scientific context. For example, students would not merely learn the process of formulating questions in science but would learn to formulate questions

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about a specific area in science and pursue those questions so they could, as the NRC explains, "develop the capacity to conduct complete inquiries" (p. 23). Science is a complex human endeavor. Therefore, one must be careful to avoid thinking along the lines of a false dichotomy, that is, content versus process. There is most certainly an intrinsic relationship between scientific knowledge and the process that generates it. More recently, science educators have explored the nature of science within an epistemological framework. Many researchers argue that students' conceptions of the nature of science should ideally be both broad and inclusive (Murfin, 1994). Stanley and Brickhouse (1994) argue against a universalist perspective of the nature of science and instead emphasize a multicultural perspective. In doing so, they ask, "Whose nature of science are we teaching?" Their question is both valid and important. They state that a universalist view of science claims that the scientific account of the world is unrelated to such things as human interest, culture, gender, race, class, ethnicity, or sexual orientation. This is clearly not the case. Such a view, they write, "ignores the role of the scientific community" (p. 390). This view essentially removes the human element from a human endeavor. In a response to Stanley and Brickhouse, Loving (1995) argues that in teaching a culturally sensitive approach to science they are in danger of teaching multiple sciences in which they advocate relativism. Stanley and Brickhouse (1995) respond that "science is a cultural phenomenon and not a universal form of knowledge that transcends all cultural interpretations" (p. 353). In addition, they argue that just because there is no universal knowledge does not mean that one cannot have a rational basis for making knowledge claims. Relativism implies that "anything goes" and that is not Stanley and Brickhouse's implication. They state that in a sense we can only know what we know within a framework or frameworks; therefore, no one has access to universal claims of knowledge and in that way our scientific knowledge is relative. Martin and Brouwer (1993) explore other aspects of the nature of science or what they term "personal science." Through narratives they explore the personal science of Brouwer, an astronomer and science educator, and uncover what they define as significant aspects of science including questioning, trust, perception, judgment, and doubt. Although questioning is often associated with science, rarely do we hear scientists discuss doubt or perception. Several of these notions are concepts that are probably not discussed within the context of most science classes. The process of science can often be personal and subjective. Knowledge is tentative and the researchers 7 own biases and experiences, along with their strengths and weaknesses, factor into data collection and interpretation. Words such as subjective and chaotic are most likely not common in science classrooms, whereas words such as objective and organized are; yet the for-

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mer pair may characterize "doing real science" whereas the latter pair describes "learning about doing real science." Each person undoubtedly constructs his or her own understanding of the nature of science based on his or her own experiences with it, which is why the educational experiences that students receive in the sciences are so critical, particularly in the K-12 context; many students in the United States do not attend formal schooling beyond these compulsory years (The National Center for Educational Statistics [NCES], 1995). In order to examine student understandings of the nature of science with regard to the experiences they receive in the sciences, a fully formed definition or model of the nature of science should first be identified (Lederman, 1986). Lederman writes, "A precise definition of what constitutes an 'adequate 7 conception of the nature of science for teachers (or students) is conspicuous in its absence from previous research reports" (p. 92). Meichtry (1993) also notes that there is apparently no standardized definition for the nature of science. The definitions that exist, she concludes, are varied and multifaceted. Lederman (1992) concisely defined the nature of science as "the values and assumptions inherent to science" (p. 331), so it seems quite appropriate that there should exist a range of satisfactory meanings to describe this complex human endeavor. Unfortunately, this leaves us stranded in terms of science education, and curriculum development in particular, as we begin to explore how to teach the nature of science to our students. If we can't even develop a working model for the nature of science, where do we begin in K-12 public schools? Such a model of the nature of science was developed and examined within the secondary school context (Moss et al., 2001), and this research puts forth an operational definition for the nature of science that might be appropriate as a guide when developing curriculum at this level. The model serves as a starting point to explore the limits of science and begin to understand this enterprise as a way of knowing. It was not designed to serve as a philosophical model for scientists, philosophers, and science educators. Such a model would likely be substantially more complex and perhaps not appropriate for high school students. In a recent paper, AbdEl-Khalick, Bell, and Lederman (1997) conclude that most disagreements about a definition of the nature of science are irrelevant to K-12 instruction. They state, "The disagreements that continue to exist among philosophers, historians, and science educators are far too abstract for K-12 students to understand and far too esoteric to be of immediate consequence to their daily lives" (p. 3). Similarly, Matthews (1998) proposes modest goals when teaching the nature of science and concludes, "It is unrealistic to expect students or prospective teachers to become competent historians, sociologists, or philosophers of science" (p. 168). On the other hand, this model does capture the complex, human dimensions of

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science and its products. Perhaps it is fitting to think of the following model as merely one suitable model of the nature of science—precisely, a model geared toward K-12 education. The premises that characterize the nature of the scientific enterprise are as follows: 1. The universe is open to human description, classification, and understanding through scientific exploration; however, science is merely one way of coming to know our universe. 2. This scientific exploration attempts to explain and predict phenomena, develop and examine theories, and generate new questions. 3. Logic, imagination, curiosity, and serendipity contribute to scientific exploration. 4. Science is a social activity, both influencing and responding to social needs. Scientists themselves are influenced by cultural and personal factors, such as cultural norms and their own lived experiences. 5. Questioning, data collection and analysis, drawing of conclusions, and communication are the major phases that characterize the scientific endeavor. Research designs that make use of both experimentation and naturalistic observation are commonly used. The premises that characterize the nature of scientific knowledge are as follows: 6. Scientific knowledge demands empirical evidence and claims are falsifiable through the scientific enterprise. 7. Scientific knowledge usually cannot provide complete answers to all questions. 8. Scientific knowledge is tentative and developmental. As one considers the various principles of this model, apparent inconsistencies in its underlying philosophy may be discerned. This model is postpositivistic, emphasizing the human role in the process of generating and reporting scientific knowledge. Loving (1997) traces the early history of positivism, citing the influences of Plato, Galileo, and Copernicus as contributing to the notion that only "empirically verifiable" (p. 428) statements can be considered scientific. A positivist perspective is seen in the sixth premise of the model, which states that scientific knowledge demands empirical evidence. However, what of the premise that describes science as a social activity, susceptible to such human influences as cultural and personal factors? Is this not contradictory to the positivist underpinning of these other premises? Garrison and Bentley (1990) describe post-positivism as asserting that universal laws can never be induced with certainty. They note there is an element of subjectivity to all statements. Building upon a post-positivistic

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perspective, Loving (1997) describes postmodern science as also dismissing positivist tenets when she states that "it concentrates on how the natural sciences are actually carried out (rather than how they should be carried out) in the context of social, political, or psychological dimensions" (pp. 432-433). In that sense, perhaps postmodern science better captures the essence of science as a social activity than merely a post-positivistic perspective. I believe postmodern context allows for rational thought to prevail in science, while also recognizing the "highly interpretive and variable" (Loving, 1997, p. 433) elements of science. When we consider that the scientific endeavor is very much a human endeavor, we can more easily accept science as both rational and subjective. Therefore, the model tries to capture both of these critical perspectives. In the next section, I will address the nature of science as the key element of science literacy, which is our ultimate aim for science education. SCIENCE LITERACY A N D THE NATURE OF SCIENCE Why teach science in schools? At first it may seem a moot question in that, over the course of the twentieth century, science certainly has become one of the staple subjects taught in public high schools across the United States. However, I do not believe that we should take the inclusion of science as a core curriculum subject as a given. In an era in which school improvement seems to be a high priority among government officials, albeit through the artificial pressures of mass testing programs, I support the posing of such a question to serve as a catalyst for exploring why we value science as a fundamental aspect of the human experience. I strongly believe that adequate science understanding is a fundamental precursor to democracy, perhaps now more than ever as we begin a century that promises scientific advances unparalleled over the course of human history. A rich understanding of the scientific enterprise is essential for all citizens to make informed decisions about pressing issues such as climate change and biotechnology, along with seemingly countless others. This critical need for an enlightened population has contributed to the development of several national-level proposals for science education reform over the past decades. The American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS, 1989) and the National Research Council (NRC, 1996) of the National Academy of Sciences have sponsored two such science reform initiatives. Although the proposals vary somewhat between these national organizations, they both share the overarching goal of scientific literacy for all Americans. Achieving such widespread scientific literacy is perhaps our best proactive solution to the many challenges we are certain to face. Scientific literacy refers to possessing and using scientific knowledge to make decisions that affect our lives, decisions that reflect an understand-

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ing of the concepts, principles, theories, and processes of science along with an awareness of the complex relationships between science, technology, and society (Abd-El-Khalick et al., 1997). Although the notion of science literacy underpins the reform movement today, the label itself has been around for nearly half a century (DeBoer, 2000). The notion of literacy in science is an intriguing one. As I have introduced this concept to my students over the years, the response is typically the same: "I never thought of literacy beyond being able to read and write." As we explored what literacy meant within the language arts domain, students came to see that literacy was much more than merely a set of skills, but a way of coming to know and interact with one's environment. Science literacy is much the same. I argue for the broadest possible definition of this ideal, one that at its core is the very nature of science as discussed earlier. In a review of the science education literature, Lederman (1992) uncovered that the nature of science as an objective for schools can be traced back to the early part of this century: in 1907 the Central Association of Science and Mathematics Teachers argued for an increased emphasis to be placed on the scientific method and the process of science. The history of science education shows continuous reform of topics and of how science was taught since it was adopted as a core component of formal schooling over a century ago. But why have so many reform efforts in this area failed to bring the sweeping improvements that were promised? In describing why reform fails, although not specific to science education, Fullan and Miles (1992) write, "The problem is not really lack of innovation, but the enormous overload of fragmented, uncoordinated, and ephemeral attempts at change" (p. 745). Can the unifying notion of science literacy address these underlying issues? Riechard (1994) states, "Project 2061 has identified scientific literacy for all citizens as its central goal... [it] also breaks with the quick-fix mentality of the 1950's and 1960's " (p. 135). In October of 1957, the Sputnik satellite was launched into Earth orbit by the Soviets. This single event was primarily responsible for placing the National Science Foundation (NSF) at the forefront of the science reform effort in the United States. Created in 1950, the NSF was primarily responsible for overseeing the continuing political and economic health of the United States that was partially achieved through scientific and technological superiority following World War II (Duschl, 1990). There were many positive outcomes as a result of this massive post-Sputnik era reform. One beneficial outcome may be simply summed up as national awareness. At least in science education, people began to feel an urgent need for significant curriculum reform. That is, what was currently happening in science and math education could not be adequate in light of the successful launching of a Soviet satellite ahead of a U.S. satellite. Unfortunately, that movement was clearly reactionary. One reaction by the U.S. government was to empower scientists and engineers

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in the field of curriculum. There is certainly a prominent place for content specialists in the field of education. They can bring to any curriculum reform effort an expertise that few could offer, but we must not forget that professional educators can and should also bring to reform efforts their own valuable expertise. In fact, Schwab (1969) advocates that curriculum reform should involve content specialists along with teachers and curriculum specialists. It seems many assumptions were made about teaching and learning at that time in an effort to expedite reform efforts. As a result, the "new curricula" of the late 1950s and 1960s were designed to produce a specific product: students with applied expertise in the sciences who could work toward propelling the United States back to the lead in the space race (Duschl, 1990) and subsequently develop other national defense-related technologies that involved the propulsion of rockets and missiles. On July 20,1969, the United States clearly won the space race with the success of the Apollo 11 moon landing, but where did that leave science education? DeBoer (1991) writes, "If a single word had to be chosen to describe the goals of science educators during the 30-year period that began in the late 1950's [sic], it would have to be inquiry" (p. 206). Three federally funded science curricula, SAPA, SCIS, and ESS, were developed in the 1960s, all of which emphasized process skills through an inquiry approach. But following the success of the space race, science reform efforts seemed to flounder. Perhaps with the continuing financial drain of the cold war, education was seen as less of a priority than direct military expenditures. Certainly under the administration of the early 1980s, military spending received higher priority. At about that time, however, the seeds of the current wave of reform were being sown. With the ongoing development of technology, the world was rapidly entering the information age. We urgently recognized the need to compete in a global marketplace. Standardized testing was showing that American students were not as "smart" as their peers in other countries (National Board for Professional Teaching Standards [NBPTS], 1994). The NBPTS report notes that three years after the publication of the federal report titled A Nation at Risk, the Carnegie Task Force on Teaching as a Profession issued the report A Nation Prepared: Teachers for the 21st Century. Standards for teaching and learning were now commonly considered as benchmarks by which we could measure the new progress of this latest reform effort (AAAS, 1993). Preparing students to thrive in the technological world of the twenty-first century became the battle cry of science educators everywhere. Our new reform efforts were not designed to win a space race but to ensure the competitiveness of the United States as an economic and technological leader. The vehicle to accomplish this would be a generation of scientifically literate Americans. Educators, led by contemporary curriculum theorists, have come to see that the choices they make regarding what they teach have far-reaching consequences beyond concerns of mere scope and sequence. Authors of

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the AAAS's Project 2061 (1989) write, "Science is more than a body of knowledge... it is also a social activity that incorporates certain human values" (p. 149). They recognize that curriculum should no longer be considered to be value neutral. The choice of scientific literacy as a goal of the current reform efforts was in fact a monumental choice. Scientific literacy, it is hoped, will develop the habits of mind that are indicative of the sciences that we value as being important. Ideally, students will take what they have learned in their K-12 experiences and become actively questioning adults with the capacity to become informed consumers of the scientifically and technologically oriented world of the twenty-first century. PROJECT-BASED SCIENCE EDUCATION The National Science Education Standards (NRC, 1996) do not advocate specific teaching strategies for fostering an understanding of the nature of science in students. However, they state that "learning science is something that students do, not something that is done to them" (p. 20). They strongly advocate an active, hands- and minds-on approach to learning. Additionally, Project 2061 (AAAS, 1989) argues that students need time to explore and make wrong turns throughout the process of learning science. But how can we ensure an active approach to science education that allows students adequate time to conduct investigations so that they may develop an understanding of the nature of science? Perhaps a projectbased approach to teaching science will help meet this goal. There is much written on when, how, and why projects should be used in schools (Morgan, 1983; Wolk, 1994), especially in science education (Ladewski, Krajcik, & Harvey, 1994; Scott, 1994). From a historical perspective, Katz and Chard (1989) note project-based models of instruction have been utilized in K-12 education throughout the twentieth century. They point out that in the United States, the idea of learning through projects originally gained wide popularity in the 1920s after this approach, then considered progressive, was strongly advocated by John Dewey. In a later work, Dewey (1938/1962) reflected upon the notion of progressive versus traditional education. He defined traditional education as "the bodies of information and of skills that have been worked out in the past; therefore, the chief business of the school is to transmit them to the new generation" (p. 17). He further defined such bodies of information as "static" and as a "finished product." In contrast, he defined progressive education in terms of experiences that the students had. Educational philosopher Alfred Whitehead also wrote on the ideas of experience and education in the early part of the twentieth century. Whitehead (1929) wrote, "First-hand knowledge is the ultimate basis of intellectual life..." (p. 79). Both visionaries of this era advocated a project-based approach in which students are actively engaged in their own learning; however, it is

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Dewey that reminds us that "the belief that all genuine education comes about through experience does not mean that all experiences are genuinely or equally educative" (p. 25)—a poignant reminder as we consider experiential, project-based instruction at the present time. Modern experiential education has been defined in numerous ways (Chapman, McPhee, & Proudman, 1992). Chapman et al. note experiential education cannot be thought of simply as a particular set of outdoor activities such as rope courses or canoe trips that have been typically associated with this present-day model of instruction. Ultimately, they define experiential education as "an approach [that] has students actively engaged in exploring questions they find relevant and meaningful.... Students can draw valid and meaningful conclusions from their own experiences" (p. 18). This definition is consistent with Katz's (1994) definition of a projectbased approach in which she states that a key feature of projects is that they are research efforts deliberately focused on finding answers to questions. Additionally, in earlier work, Katz and Chard (1989) note that, in project work, students should share the accountability with teachers for learning and achievement. Brusic (1992) offers an additional dimension to this approach and points out a recent revitalization in this area through the use of technology in the classroom. She states that modern technology programs can highlight a firsthand-knowledge approach by actively engaging students in real-world problem-solving activities in which students connect with the world beyond the classroom walls. AAAS (1989) indirectly supports a project-based approach when it states that teaching should be consistent with the nature of scientific inquiry. AAAS writes: Sound teaching usually begins with questions and phenomena that are interesting and familiar to students students need to get acquainted with the things around them—including devices, organisms, materials, shapes, and numbers—and to observe them, collect them, handle them, describe them, become puzzled by them, ask questions about them, argue about them, and then try to find answers to their questions, (p. 147) Project-based instruction can take on various designs. Morgan (1983) argues it is essential that the aims and assumptions of project-based learning are made explicit. Morgan defines project-based learning as an activity in which students develop an understanding of a topic or issue through some kind of involvement in an actual [or simulated] [sic] real-life problem or issue and in which they have some degree of responsibility in designing their learning activities, (p. 66) He points out the great diversity of responsibility and autonomy that can be given to students. He concludes that during project-based learning,

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students are experiencing their learning in an active mode rather than the relatively passive one that is often implicit in traditional didactic teaching. This active mode is one in which a change from teacher-centered toward student-centered classrooms can become more common. The notion of teachers as facilitators of student-constructed knowledge is favored over that of teachers solely serving as a source of knowledge and transmitting that knowledge to students. Wolk (1994) claims project-based instruction has positive effects within the science classroom. He writes, "Students are into their work so intently, so genuinely.... They are constantly interacting with one another. One student conducts a science experiment... and three other children come to watch" (p. 43). Krajcik, Blumenfeld, Marx, and Soloway (1994) describe their collaborative work on project-based instruction with middle school teachers and conclude that project-based instruction, grounded in constructivist theory, affords many possibilities for transforming classrooms into active learning environments. They note students' investigations should be centered around a driving question, which they believe should be authentic and encompass substantial content. They also point out that similar discovery approaches from the 1960s were not as widely accepted as they might have been because of the top-down transmission model of change that was advocated. Today, we recognize that such sweeping changes in the classroom are not so easily achieved. Regarding science education reform, AAAS (1989) recognizes that the effort must be inclusive and sustained for us to avoid the quick-fix approaches of the past. Eisenhart, Finkel, and Marion (1996) examine scientific literacy as the goal for the current science reform movement, and although they describe the vision of scientific literacy as broad and inclusive, they conclude that it is being implemented in narrow and conventional ways. As we begin to think beyond conventional means of achieving our reform-minded goals for science education, we face the timely question of whether project-based instruction helps foster an understanding of the nature of science for students. In a book developed to aid teachers in reforming their science teaching, Glasgow (1996) notes that science projects should be authentic—that is, they should mirror the way science is actually done in working laboratories and field sites. He believes students should have the opportunity to create new knowledge by exploring original science questions. By encouraging students to pursue projects in science—specifically ones in which they make observations, formulate questions, conduct research, analyze data, and report their results in a classroom or public setting—a project-based approach in which the nature of science learning is explicit can be an effective means to foster student understandings of the nature of science (Moss et al., 2001). One potentially effective means by which the nature of science can be integrated into project-based science instruction is through programs that involve students in real science activities in cooperation with actual scien-

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tists (Moss, 2003). Already a large number of programs attempt to do just that (Tinker, 1997). For example, in the international GLOBE Program, students partner with scientists and collect actual scientific data. In this configuration of a student-scientist partnership, schools form a network of data collection sites and work toward contributing quality data to an active scientific research program of a practicing scientist. One criticism of such a model is that students often are relegated to serve in a role that is analogous to technician (Moss, Abrams, & Robb-Kull, 1998) and do not experience the full range of the activities that characterize the scientific endeavor. Consequently, students will not have the opportunity to see science as a way of knowing, and they will take a very narrow, prescriptive path as they explore limited aspects of this discipline. At the core of this issue of involving students in real science projects with scientists is the conflicting context of school science versus real science. Science education at the secondary level typically involves a schedule comprising a daily lecture class, segregated from other subject areas, along with a weekly lab period. Even if the lecture class adheres to a constructivist learning perspective (Brooks & Brooks, 1993) and the lab follows a handson, project-based approach, I would argue that the experiences students receive may still fall short of fostering an understanding of the nature of science. The science education community has made excellent strides in recent decades to move beyond the cookbook approach to science labs (Clough & Clark, 1994), indicative of the exploratory notion of real science; but we have yet as a community to fully realize the implications that the concept of inquiry simply doesn't go far enough in promoting the depth of science understanding necessary to foster a scientifically literate citizenry. There must be time for reflection regarding a host of nature of science issues to gain the maximum benefit from participating in actual science activities. A blending of what was once thought of as a philosophy of science class with an authentic, hands-on approach may be the most effective means of exploring the nature of science. Our challenge is to work within the public school framework to create more authentic, meaningful science experiences for our students—specifically, experiences targeted toward the explicit goal of fostering science as a way of knowing through a nature-of-science lens. Many of the necessary elements for meeting this challenge exist: • National standards lead the way in articulating the principal goal of science education: To foster scientifically literate citizens who can leverage their science understanding to make informed decisions throughout their lives. • Designating the nature of science as an instructional goal best captures the complex essence of science and is the key element of science literacy. • Moving beyond our previous reform efforts in science education and building upon the foundation of progressive pedagogy, we can best leverage effective

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teaching strategies to achieve our reform-minded goals. Such strategies include fostering nature-of-science learning through explicit, reflective discourse in combination with project-based instruction. However, a critical ingredient necessary for reform remains absent from most public school environments: couching science within a broader context of ways of knowing. As discussed in the introductory chapter of this book, science is merely one facet of human understanding. To profoundly understand science, we must step outside the traditional boundaries of this domain to see it for what it really is. Recall that the boundaries of the disciplines as portrayed in public schools are artificial and primarily serve to structure the physical environment of the school and the processing of individuals through this institution. As such, it is difficult for schools to provide more than a prepackaged, distilled version of each subject area. Considering science as merely one element of human knowledge, we begin to see this discipline as part of a larger whole with its boundaries blurred among all other disciplines. Stated concisely, to fully understand science we must first understand what is not science. Early in this chapter, I discussed that students commonly held the conception that everything is science. This notion resides too far down the continuum in one direction. Just as we must not accept science as being isolated from other ways of knowing, we must reject the idea of everything as science. We must proceed carefully, however, as we explore the limits of science. Our goal is not to identify the hypothetical place where science ends and other subject areas begin, but to see human knowledge as a transdisciplinary endeavor involving multiple ways of knowing. SCIENCE EDUCATION A N D A TRANSDISCIPLINARY PERSPECTIVE To effectively meet the current national recommendation of fostering science literacy, we must approach science teaching and learning from a transdisciplinary perspective. Where do we begin? First, we move beyond the absurd notion that we can teach everything our students will need to know in science. The educational implications of such a significant step forward in science education are emancipatory; it will enable us to address the fundamental question of the value of science understanding and begin to develop our curriculum from this informed position. Within this chapter, I have illustrated that science literacy is the ultimate aim of science education and that an understanding of science as a way of knowing from a nature-of-science perspective is essential to achieving this goal. However, from many science educators 7 perspective, the question of specific content elements to support this approach is critical and unresolved.

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Regarding this point, I propose we begin with the unifying concepts of science, commonly known as the "big ideas," to inform us about what gets taught in terms of traditional science content. In Project 2061: Science for All Americans (AAAS, 1989), the authors introduce and discuss broad themes that pervade science. They note that these are "ideas that transcend disciplinary boundaries" (p. 123). These themes, sometimes known as unifying concepts or big ideas, include systems, models (both physical and conceptual), constancy, patterns of change, evolution, and scale. The authors of the National Science Education Standards (NRC, 1996) propose similar unifying concepts: systems, order, and organization; evidence, models, and explanation; change, constancy, and measurement; evolution and equilibrium; form and function. NRC believes these concepts could serve as a focus for instruction at any grade level and, ideally, "enhance the learning of scientific concepts and principles by providing students with a big picture of scientific ideas" (p. 105). Historically, several large-scale programs in science education have been designed to introduce students to unifying concepts (Iozzi & Halsey, 1993; National Aeronautics and Space Administration [NASA], 1994). Project Learning Tree, developed in the 1970s as a series of supplemental activities for classrooms, utilizes forest ecosystems as a means to increase students 7 understanding of complex environmental issues. This program addresses five major themes: diversity, interrelationships, systems, structure and scale, and patterns of change. Studies on the effectiveness of Project Learning Tree have found that the teacher workshops as well as the program itself have had positive influences on both student and teacher attitudes toward the environment and environmental science (Conry & Jeroski, 1982; Kunz, 1990; Schwartz, 1987). A more recently developed project, the NASA Mission to Planet Earth: Earth System Science Program, also a series of supplemental activities for students and teachers, was primarily designed for children to become familiar with the concepts of cycles and change in the Earth's environment. In this program students examine the Earth from the perspective of space to see the planet as a single system. Additionally, students examine global change issues, create models of instruments and satellites, and explore careers in science. In both these examples, unifying concepts served as foci for science instruction; however, understanding science as a way of knowing was not the ultimate goal. I believe the unifying concepts of models, systems, and change are ideally suited for providing a contentarea context for fostering nature-of-science understanding, but first let's briefly define these concepts. The authors of Project 2061 (AAAS, 1989) define a model as a "simplified imitation" (p. 124) that can help us understand something better. They define models quite broadly as devices, plans, drawings, equations, computer programs, or even mental images. Generally, they describe models

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as being physical, conceptual, or mathematical in nature. A physical model is an actual device, such as scale model of an airplane. Conceptual models may be thought of as metaphors or analogies to visualize and understand abstract ideas (e.g., an electrical current is viewed as akin to a river flowing). Mathematical models are equations that help us understand ways in which various systems behave. Accurate weather forecasting relies heavily upon good computational models that precisely describe the behavior of the atmosphere (Ogborn & Mellar, 1994). The AAAS notes, "The basic idea of mathematical modeling is to find a mathematical relationship [that] behaves in the same way as the system of interest does" (p. 126). The overall purpose of models and modeling is to predict (Brewer & Beiswenger, 1993). When discussing the importance of modeling in the teaching of science, Giordan (1991) notes, "Modeling ... makes it possible to show relations.... It facilitates understanding and prediction" (pp. 322-323). Ideally, students should develop an understanding of models as physical, conceptual, and mathematical, as well as representative and predictive in nature. Closely related to the concept of modeling is the idea of a system. As noted, models can help us understand how systems work. The NRC (1996) defines a system as "an organized group of related objects or components that form a whole" (p. 116). For example, organisms such as humans, or machines such as computers, may be thought of as systems. Common elements that define systems are boundaries, components, resources (input and output of energy), and feedback. The notion of energy flow both in and out of systems is important for understanding what sustains them and how they may be limited in their function. As students explore systems, they should develop an understanding of them as consisting of individual parts that contribute to a whole. As noted in the national science standards, science assumes that the behavior of the universe is orderly and understandable; therefore, understanding systems here on Earth can lead to a broader understanding of the universe at large. Although the universe is believed to be "understandable and predictable" (NRC, 1996, p. 116) in many respects, such as the constancy of the speed of light, it is also believed to be consistently undergoing change. Changes within the universe may vary in rate, scale, and patterns. In many cases changes can be quantified. The AAAS (1989) notes that changes may occur in steady trends, in cycles, and often irregularly Any given system may have all three kinds of changes occurring simultaneously. Developing an understanding of change, at both local and global scales, will enable students to better understand other big ideas in science, such as evolution. Embedded within the explanations of these unifying concepts are specific topics that will serve to support a transdisciplinary approach to teaching and learning. These topics include electricity, weather, the

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human body, the solar system, and evolution. For much of the past century, the teaching of science content such as this was believed to be an end point in itself. It was assumed that if students could learn important facts associated with these topics, they would be considered educated in science. This long-held approach to the teaching and learning of science fostered the coverage-of-content mentality common to many high school programs. Within a transdisciplinary model of learning and teaching, science content will once again have an important purpose: to serve as the context, or landscape, in which we explore various aspects of the nature of science. In this way, science content itself becomes an important facet of a more significant goal—the understanding of science as a whole. Today, with the goal of science literacy as our principal aim for science education, we must abandon the coverage-of-content mentality in favor of an explicit, reflective approach that encompasses many dimensions, such as nature of science, unifying concepts, and specific science content. These elements together best enable us to see science as merely one way of knowing, which by its very definition encourages a transdisciplinary approach to teaching and learning. Clearly, such an approach does not imply that we discard rigorous science content from our curriculum, a concern of many scientists and their professional societies, but that science content now has meaning as the context in which meaningful learning takes place. We are at a remarkable nexus in the evolution of science education. We have come to understand that science education is more about learning than teaching. We see it as an important facet of the whole of human knowledge. Our challenge is to draw upon the richness of the past century of science education as we foster a scientifically literate citizenry to ensure our future.

REFERENCES Abd-El-Khalick, F., Bell, R., & Lederman, N.G. (1997). The nature of science and instructional practice: Making the unnatural natural. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the National Association for Research in Science Teaching, Chicago, IL. American Association for the Advancement of Science. (1989). Project 2061: Science for all Americans. New York: Oxford University Press. American Association for the Advancement of Science. (1993). Benchmarks for science literacy. New York: Oxford University Press. Brewer, C. A., & Beiswenger, J. M. (1993). Carbon dioxide and the greenhouse effect: A problem evaluation activity. American Biology Teacher, 55(4), pp. 238-240. Brooks, J.G., & Brooks, M.G. (1993). In search of understanding: The case for constructivist classrooms. Alexandria, VA: ASCD. Brusic, S. A. (1992). Achieving STS goals through experiential learning. Theory Into Practice, 31(1), pp. 44-51.

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Chapman, S., McPhee, P., & Proudman, B. (1992). What is experiential education? The Journal of Experiential Education, 25(2), pp. 16-23. Clough, M.P., & Clark, R. (1994). Cookbooks and constructivism: A better approach to laboratory activities. The Science Teacher, 61(2), pp. 34-37. Conry, R.F., & Jeroski, S.F. (1982). An evaluation of Project Learning Tree in British Columbia. Unpublished manuscript, University of British Columbia, Vancouver, Canada. Cothram, J., & Smith, E. (1981). Development and validation of the conceptions of scientific theories test. Journal of Research in Science Teaching, 18(5), pp. 387-396. DeBoer, G E . (1991). A history of ideas in science education. New York: Teachers College Press. DeBoer, G.E. (2000). Scientific literacy: Another look at its historical and contemporary meanings and its relationship to science education reform. Journal of Research in Science Teaching, 37(6), pp. 582-601. Dewey, J. (1962). Experience and education. New York: Collier Books. (Original work published 1938) Duschl, R.A. (1990). Restructuring science education: The importance of theories and their development. New York: Teachers College Press. Eisenhart, M., Finkel, E., & Marion, S. F. (1996). Creating conditions for scientific literacy: A re-examination. American Educational Research Journal, 33(2), pp. 261-295. Fullan, M . G , & Miles, M. (1992). Getting reform right: What works and what doesn't. Phi Delta Kappan, 73(10), pp. 744-52. Garrison, J. W., & Bentley, M. L. (1990). Teaching scientific method: The logic of confirmation and falsification. School Science and Mathematics, 90(3), pp. 188-197. Giordan, A. (1991). The importance of modeling in the teaching and popularization of science. Impact of Science on Society, 41(A), pp. 321-338. Glasgow, N. A. (1996). Doing science: Innovative curriculum for the life sciences. Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin. Good, R. (1996). Trying to teach consensus on the nature of science: Words get in the way. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the National Association for Research in Science Teaching, St. Louis, MO. Iozzi, L., & Halsey, B. (1993). Environmental education activity guide: PreK-8. Washington, DC: American Forest Foundation. Katz, L. G (1994). The project approach. ERIC Digest. (ERIC Document Reproduction Service No. EDO-PS-94-6) Katz, L.G, & Chard, S.C. (1989). Engaging children's minds: The project approach. Norwood, NJ: Ablex. Kimball, M. (1968). Understanding the nature of science: A comparison of scientists and science teachers. Journal of Research in Science Teaching, 5, pp. 110-120. Krajcik, J.S., Blumenfeld, P C , Marx, R.W., & Soloway, E. (1994). A collaborative model for helping middle grade science teachers learn project-based instruction. The Elementary School Journal, 94(5), pp. 483-497. Kunz, D.E. (1990, March). The effects of a Project Learning Tree workshop on preservice teachers' attitudes toward teaching and environmental education. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the National Association for Research in Science Teaching, Atlanta, GA.

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Ladewski, B.G, Krajcik, J.S., & Harvey, C.L. (1994). A middle grade science teacher's emerging understanding of project-based instruction. The Elementary School Journal, 94(5), pp. 499-515. Lederman, N. G (1986). Students' and teachers' understanding of the nature of science: A reassessment. School Science and Mathematics, 86(2), pp. 91-99. Lederman, N.G. (1992). Students' and teachers' conceptions of the nature of science: A review of the research. Journal of Research in Science Teaching, 29(4), pp. 331-359. Lederman, N . G , Abd-El-Khalick, R, Bell, R.L., & Schwartz, R.S. (2002). Views of Nature of Science Questionnaire: Toward valid and meaningful assessment of learners' conceptions of nature of science. Journal of Research in Science Teaching, 39(6), pp. 497-521. Loving, C.C. (1995). Comment on "Multiculturalism, universalism, and science education." Science Education, 79(3), pp. 341-348. Loving, C.C. (1997). From the summit of truth to its slippery slopes: Science education's journey through positivist-postmodern territory. American Educational Research Journal, 34(3), pp. 421-452. Martin, B., & Brouwer, W. (1993). Exploring personal science. Science Education, 77(4), pp. 441-459. Matthews, M. R. (1998). In defense of modest goals when teaching about the nature of science. Journal of Research in Science Teaching, 35(2), pp. 161-174. Meichtry, Y J. (1993). The impact of science curricula on student views about the nature of science. Journal of Research in Science Teaching, 30(5), pp. 429-443. Moore, J. A. (1985). Science as a way of knowing—Human ecology. American Zoology, 25, pp. 483-637. Morgan, A. (1983). Theoretical aspects of project-based learning in higher education. British Journal of Educational Technology, i(14), pp. 66-78. Moss, D.M. (2003). A window on science: Exploring the JASON Project and student conceptions of science. Journal of Science Education and Technology, 12(1), 21-30. Moss, D. M., Abrams, E. D., & Robb, J. (2001). Describing student conceptions of the nature of science over an entire school year. International Journal of Science Education, 23(8), pp. 771-790. Moss, D.M., Abrams, E.D., & Robb-Kull, J. (1998). Can we be scientists too? Secondary students' perceptions of scientific research from a project-based classroom. Journal of Science Education and Technology, 7(2), pp. 149-161. Murfin, B. (1994). African science, African and African-American scientists and the school science curriculum. School Science and Mathematics, 94(2), 96-103. National Aeronautics and Space Administration. (1994). Our mission to planet Earth: A guide to teaching Earth system science. Washington, DC: Author. National Board for Professional Teaching Standards. (1994). What teachers should know and be able to do. Washington, DC: Author. National Center for Educational Statistics. (1995). Mini-digest of education statistics 1995. Washington, DC: National Center for Educational Statistics (NCES 95-214). National Research Council. (1996). National science education standards. Washington, DC: Academy Press.

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National Science Teachers Association. (1982). Science-technology-society: Science education for the 1980s. Washington, DC: Author. Ogborn, J., & Mellar, H. (1994). Models: Their makers, uses, and problems. In H. Mellar, J. Bliss, R. Boohan, J. Ogborn, & C. Tompsett (Eds.), Learning with artificial zvorlds: Computer-based modeling in the curriculum (pp. 16-26). London: Falmer Press. Parker, J.C, & Rubin, L. J. (1966). Curriculum design and the application of knowledge. Chicago: Rand McNally. Prawat, R.S. (1992). Teachers' beliefs about teaching and learning: A constructivist perspective. American Journal of Education, 100(3), pp. 354-395. Riechard, D.E. (1994). National science education standards: Around the reform bush... again? The Clearing House, 67(3), pp. 135-136. Rubba, P., & Anderson, H. (1978). The development of an instrument to assess secondary students' understanding of the nature of scientific knowledge. Science Education, 62(4), pp. 449-458. Schwab, J. (1969). The practical: The language for curriculum. School Review, 78(1), pp. 1-23. Schwartz, D . G (1987). Environmental education and its effects on students' attitudes toward the curriculum. Unpublished master's thesis, Idaho State University, Pocatello, ID. Scott, C. A. (1994). Project-based science: Reflections of a middle school teacher. The Elementary School Journal, 95(1), pp. 75-94. Showalter, V. (1974). What is unified science education? Program objectives and scientific literacy (Part 5). Prisim II, 2(3 & 4). Stanley, W.B., & Brickhouse, N. W (1994). Multiculturalism, universalism, and science education. Science Education, 78(4), pp. 387-398. Stanley, W.B., & Brickhouse, N. W. (1995). Science education without foundations: A response to Loving. Science Education, 79(3), pp. 349-354. Tinker, R.R (1997). Student-scientist partnerships: Shrewd maneuvers. Journal of Science Education and Technology, 6(2), pp. 111-117. Whitehead, A.N. (1929). The aims of education and other essays. New York: Macmillan. Wolk, S. (1994). Project-based learning: Pursuits with a purpose. Educational Leadership, 52(3), pp. 42-45.

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Chapter 5

Rethinking Secondary Mathematics Teacher Preparation Alice F. Artzt and Frances R. Curcio with Alan Sultan and Tara Wachter

It has been claimed that teachers teach the way they were taught (Goodlad, 1990). If schools of education are to be successful in preparing teachers who can implement learner-centered, standards-based instruction, then faculty need to model strategies that support such instruction. One of the challenges of preparing future secondary mathematics teachers is to provide them with examples of applying mathematics across disciplines, supporting the National Council of Teachers of Mathematics (1991, 2000) standard that emphasizes mathematical connections. This chapter describes an innovative preparation program for secondary mathematics teachers, Teaching Improvement through Mathematics Education (TIME 2000), which was designed through the collaborative efforts among mathematics educators, mathematicians, educational psychologists, and language educators. A description of some of the courses and assignments highlights how future teachers are involved in exploring "connections that exist between mathematics and other disciplines" (Leitzel, 1991, p. 3), paving the way for them to integrate such ideas into their teaching. ABOUT TIME 2000 TIME 2000 was developed in response to the critical shortage of qualified mathematics teachers (Feldman, 2000; Goodnough, 2000; Gregorian, 2001) and to changes in the school mathematics program that require corresponding modifications in the preparation of teachers (Glenn Commission, 2000). Specifically, this program was funded by the National Science Foundation (NSF) to (1) recruit prospective teachers from the pool of top-

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quality high school mathematics students and (2) develop a mathematics education program that conceptually integrates mathematics, the psychology of learning mathematics, and mathematics pedagogy (Artzt, 2000).1 Project Overview A unique feature of TIME 2000 is the interdisciplinary approach that results from interdepartmental collaboration among mathematics and secondary education faculty, strengthening the bonds among all participating professors. Courses, assignments, and fieldwork have been designed to highlight connections (1) within mathematics, (2) between mathematics and other disciplines, (3) between the teaching of mathematics and the psychology of teaching and learning, and (4) between the college and the schools. TIME 2000 students are block-scheduled into all of their mathematics, education, and mathematics education courses. Most of these courses have been revised to reflect a more coherent and interconnected program of study uniquely tailored for prospective mathematics teachers. Professors involved in the program work together on a continual basis, engaging in planning the program of study, designing courses, discussing pedagogical strategies and assessment strategies, observing and participating in one another's classes, and discussing students' progress. Three of the courses in this program are team-taught. A mathematics educator, an educational psychologist, and a field-based mathematics educator team-teach two courses—a freshman-year course, the Psychology of Learning Mathematics, and a senior-year course, the Psychology of Teaching Mathematics. A mathematician and a mathematics educator team-teach a mathematics course that examines the secondary school mathematics curriculum from an advanced standpoint. Examples of Interdisciplinary Collaboration The design of interdisciplinary courses requires intense interdepartmental collaboration. What we have learned is that designing courses goes far beyond mere attention to content; pedagogical and assessment strategies must be addressed as well. For this reason, the NSF grant provided funding for the professors of different disciplines (i.e., mathematics, mathematics education, educational psychology) to participate in each other's classes for the first year of the program. This full year of intense working together formed the basis for understanding the common language that we would use to develop the entire four-year program. To illustrate the complexity of interdisciplinary collaboration, the following vignette reveals a day in the life of a TIME 2000 mathematics education professor (the first author of this chapter) who, with an educational psychologist,

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team-teaches Psychology of Learning Mathematics. This course is s a n d w i c h e d b e t w e e n Calculus a n d Discrete Mathematics. On this day the calculus teacher, Alan, meets with a few students and then discusses with me some last-minute ideas for his lesson on limits. The two of us agree that in this lesson the graphing calculator will be used and that students will work in pairs. When the lesson begins, I suggest that different students write their homework solutions on the board. As Alan examines the homework problems on the board, he puts a check next to those that are correct and he reviews them. However, if a problem is incorrect, he asks the class's opinion on the problem. This immediately gives the students the message that the problem is done incorrectly. I make a note to myself to speak with Alan about other ways he might consider to review the homework. The lesson on limits begins and, toward the middle of the lesson, students are working in pairs on a problem. I am working with Jessica who knows just how to approach the problem. However, when she raises her hand to volunteer her answer to a different, but related question, she gives an incorrect response. I know that she is misinterpreting the question. As has become customary, I raise my hand to say, "Professor, I think that students don't give wrong answers. What they do is that they give right answers, but to different questions. You see, Jessica was answering a different question. I would like to ask the students if they can figure out what is the appropriate question for Jessica's answer." Alan gives me a long hard stare and replies, "Professor, I'll tell you what I think. I think that you have been smoking too much of that questionable stuff lately." The class and I break out into laughter! The class is fun and we are all enjoying the wonderful camaraderie that exists among all of us. Then the students contribute the question that Jessica was really answering. Since then we have been using this "Jeopardy"-type approach when students give incorrect answers. During the break between Calculus and Psychology of Learning Mathematics, I speak with Alan for a few minutes about his method of reviewing homework. I suggest that he let the students examine the problems on the board and decide which ones are correct and which ones are incorrect. This way, students will be more active participants in the review and less reluctant to ask questions and suggest alternative methods. I also suggest that he can save time by reviewing only those problems about which the students have questions. As usual, Alan welcomes my input. He is always encouraging me to give my ideas on how he can improve. In fact, on several occasions when I have sat quietly in the back, he has yelled out, "What's wrong? Why aren't you telling me anything today?" One day, when students were sitting in silence in response to an obvious question, he yelled out to me, "What should I do?" I said, "Tell them to turn to their neighbor and share their answers." When they did, Alan heard the students share all of the responses he had expected. After a 20-minute break, the Psychology of Learning Mathematics class meets. We begin with a launch (i.e., question): "Think of the concept of limit that you are learning in calculus. What is contributing to your understanding of that concept? List five ideas." The students work individually and write their responses. After about 5 minutes we have the students count off to 9 and then join with students who have their same number. In these randomly assigned groups they exchange

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their ideas and, on a transparency, write five ideas upon which they agree. A spokesperson from each group is randomly selected to present the group's ideas using the overhead projector to display the group's written comments. Among other ideas, the students seem to agree that seeing the problems approached in a variety of ways is helpful to them (e.g., using a graph, tables of values, algebra, geometric displays, pattern recognition). They also emphasize the important role that prior knowledge of these concepts plays in their ability to understand the idea of limit. The educational psychologist, Eleanor, is able to help the class understand that these collections of related prior knowledge, called schemata, provide the context for them to interpret the new idea of a limit in a meaningful way. The students also listed that "asking questions" of both the teacher and their peers had facilitated their learning of the concept. Such student input gives Eleanor and me the opportunity to stress once again how critical it is that they take an active role in their own learning by asking questions. Alan, who is sitting in on the class, emphasizes this point to the students. He tells them, "Don't make the same mistake I did when I was in college. I never asked a question because I was afraid to look stupid. What I realize now is that everyone in the class probably had the same questions I had. I wish I had it to do over again." At lunch the faculty reflect on the morning's lessons. Alan expresses his frustration that he is not covering enough material. He is concerned that some of the pedagogical strategies that he is experimenting with are robbing him of valuable class time. We discuss ways to use the time more effectively and what content might be relegated to homework discovery rather than in-class exposition. We inform the Discrete Mathematics professor, Elliott, of the morning's events and warn him that, after our discussion in Psychology of Learning Mathematics, the students will probably be hounding him with questions. Next, we discuss Elliott's plans for his afternoon class. He tells us that he will be introducing the formula for the counting principle and showing the students how to use it by demonstrating how to solve an interesting racing car problem. Using the concepts we developed in the psychology class, I suggest that instead of using a didactic approach, he could capitalize on the fact that the students already should have learned much about the counting principle in high school and he could give them the problem to work on in small groups. He can then build on their ideas to develop the concepts leading to the formula. We have a lively discussion. Elliott is reluctant to try it because he has little confidence that the students really understand what they purportedly had learned. We all encourage Elliott to try the small-group approach, to which he finally agrees. Elliott begins the class with a homework review. Prior to today, when he would ask whether the students had any questions, there would be silence. But after the morning's discussion, many students raise their hands to ask for explanations and clarification. The students look back at me with a big smile in recognition that they were following through on their promise to get actively involved in their own learning. Elliott then proposes the racing problem and, after allowing the students to work on it alone for a few minutes, tells them to agree on the problem in their established mathematics teams. Within 10 minutes the students are ready to share their solutions with the class. Carol is randomly picked from her team to explain the problem to the class. Elliott steps to the side of the room as Carol gives a complete description of the solution. Elliott elicits from the class the name of the principle that they used to solve the problem.

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It does not end here; these interactions among the faculty and the students continue into office hours, e-mails, and often late-night telephone conversations. What Was Gained? This account of one of our better days is meant to reveal the close involvement of the professors and the effect their involvement has on the nature of the content that is taught and on the way it is taught. The Psychology of Learning Mathematics class is able to use the Calculus and Discrete Mathematics classes as the context for discussing psychological learning concepts. It is hoped that what the students learn in the psychology course is helping them to become better learners in their mathematics courses, especially in Calculus, noted for having a high dropout rate. Furthermore, the mathematicians are beginning to consider new methods of instruction that give students a more central role in their learning. Examples of Interdisciplinary Courses There are several facets of the interdisciplinary courses in the program—connections between various disciplines (i.e., mathematics, psychology, mathematics education, science, language), connections between school and college, and connections within mathematics. Three examples are described to highlight the connections. Faculty and student testimony is provided to support the effectiveness of this interdisciplinary approach. Psychology of Learning Mathematics The Psychology of Learning Mathematics course is team-taught by an educational psychologist and two mathematics educators, one of whom meets with the students in the field one day per week. Mathematics and the students' experiences learning mathematics provide the context for studying the psychological principles. A new model of instruction, adapted from Connected Mathematics (Lappan, Fey, Fitzgerald, Friel, & Phillips, 1996), is applied in this course. New topics begin with a launch, the students then engage in an exploration, and the ideas are summarized. The launch is designed to get students to reflect on their own experiences as mathematics learners, specifically in the TIME 2000 mathematics classes, as a means of informing them about what they already know about the psychological concept to be discussed. The mathematics educator is particularly helpful here because she is very familiar with the mathematical content of the courses the students are taking. Building on students' own experiences makes the psychological principles meaningful, but shaping diverse student responses to approximate the concepts being presented is a challenge.

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After students respond to the launch individually, they are arranged randomly in groups to agree on common elements of their responses (see the vignette presented earlier in the chapter). They write group responses on a transparency and students are selected randomly to report their group's results. The educational psychologist then ties the ideas together using the appropriate theoretical framework. The students are then assigned readings and questions that are more specific in nature. The assignment encourages students to focus on their own experiences as mathematics learners as the context for answering their questions. As an example of a launch for the concept of learning, the students could be asked to write down answers to the following: 1. What did you learn in your Discrete Mathematics class yesterday? 2. What do you mean by learn? What is learning? They would then meet in groups and agree on a definition of learning, which they would write on an overhead transparency and present to the class. Students are required to spend one morning a week in a middle school with a field-based mathematics educator. The fieldwork experience integrates the concepts that students are studying in the psychology of learning class with experiences in the school. The students get to spend three periods with one mathematics teacher. First they meet with the teacher to hear his or her thoughts regarding the lesson the students will observe. Under the guidance of a mathematics educator, the TIME 2000 students pose questions to the teacher related to the concept(s) they are studying that particular week in their psychology course. For example, when they are studying constructivist techniques, they might ask the teacher what he or she is assuming the students know about the mathematical concept(s) they are about to learn. They might ask how the activity the teacher has created will facilitate students' ability to arrive at the desired mathematical concepts. The TIME 2000 students then observe the middle school mathematics lesson, taking notes related to the constructivist approaches they notice. After the class, the students meet again with the teacher and the mathematics educator to debrief. They subsequently write an observation report centered on this experience to be discussed in their next Psychology of Learning Mathematics class. Students are given questions to guide their written reports; some sample questions follow: 1. How were students involved in creating or developing a concept? 2. What kinds of tasks actively engaged the students in their learning of the concepts?

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3. With regard to the student you are tutoring, what ideas from the constructivist perspective are you using to help the student learn? 4. Give your reactions to the effectiveness of the constructivist approach you observed or used. Did it work better with some students and than it did with others? Explain. The i m p a c t o n the professors teaching this class h a s b e e n p r o f o u n d . The p s y c h o l o g y professor h a s stated m a n y times that she is o v e r w h e l m e d b y h o w clear the concepts b e c o m e for the s t u d e n t s w h e n they s t u d y t h e m in context. In h e r w o r d s , Having a class full of only math students allows them to reflect on common experiences in their learning of mathematics. They can really hone in on the psychological concepts in a way never before possible. By using the launches and getting the ideas from the students, the conversations in class are so much richer than they ever were before. I am now using this approach with all of my classes. Even though students in these other classes are not majoring in the same discipline, I still have them draw upon their own learning experiences in their content areas as a means to examine the psychological concepts of learning. The i m p a c t o n t h e s t u d e n t s h a s b e e n equally p r o f o u n d . O n e s t u d e n t described h e r experience as follows: Ever since the first year of my mathematics teacher preparation program, the use of an interdisciplinary approach to learning was evident. While taking a calculus course, along with a discrete mathematics course, we took a psychology of learning course that introduced us to educational psychology concepts involved in learner-centered teaching. In the educational psychology course, we discussed what occurred in our mathematics classes from an educational perspective by using precise psychological concepts. When we had difficulties with our mathematics courses, we were motivated to evaluate our learning and assess our difficulties in a mature manner. Through journal-writing assignments about our experiences in the mathematics courses, we expressed our feelings by evaluating, adapting, monitoring, and then regulating our learning strategies. While studying the psychology of learning, we explored a variety of concepts (e.g., learning, constructivism, the use of manipulative materials) to develop conceptual understanding. Throughout my experiences in the program, we participated in cooperative learning tasks where we were encouraged to reflect upon our experiences. While learning about the educational value of using tangible objects to represent abstract concepts, in our courses we were investigating how manipulative materials can be used in the learning and teaching of mathematics. For example, we explored the use of Texas Instruments' Calculator-Based Laboratory (CBL) while studying functions in our calculus course; and in College Geometry we used the Geometer's Sketchpad as a geometry tool for studying Euclidean and non-Euclidean geometry. As a learner, I experimented with the

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software, then reflected upon the educational concepts studied in my secondary education courses. The process of experiencing the benefits and drawbacks of the ideas being discussed firsthand truly enhanced my knowledge of how students effectively learn mathematical concepts.

Mathematics Courses The main idea of the mathematics courses was to incorporate applications from other disciplines or within mathematics that would make the learning of difficult concepts more meaningful and easier to understand. In the words of a mathematics professor, The philosophy of our mathematics courses is simple. We try to present the beautiful ideas of mathematics but within a context of simple applications so that students can see that what they are doing is relevant. We hope that down the road they will be able to answer the question, "Where does one ever use this stuff in the real world?" Because of this, the derivative in calculus is emphasized as a rate of change that has important uses in the sciences where change is way of life. Because calculus requires certain skills and a certain mindset, and because not all mathematics studied is continuous, we felt it would be best to offer a discrete mathematics course the first semester, also. This requires a whole different way of thinking and gives the chance to see that mathematics is not just (killer) calculus. We have tried to link up the two courses and point out connections between them. To some extent we could (e.g., basic concepts in probability and probabilities as integrals); but the task was hard since by nature, the two subjects are very different. We also asked students to take a probability course the first year. We believe this helped to solidify some of the concepts discussed in discrete mathematics and calculus, since many of them were used in probability. When you teach from an interdisciplinary point of view, it is important to consider other people's perspectives and try new things. The main benefit to me was trying novel things in the classroom that ordinarily I would not have tried (e.g., using the Calculator-Based Laboratory; linking courses to physics, medicine, or cryptology with such accessible applications as escape velocity; discussing the design of CAT scans [and the] diagnosis of liver disease and cancer; encoding and decoding messages). All of this adds a great deal to the relevance of the courses and greatly enhances student interest. As students had to adjust to the emphasis on interdisciplinary applications, a mathematics professor noted many difficulties: "There was terrific resistance to applications by many of the students. It became, 'Oh, here he goes again with applications,' as if relevance detracted from the mathematics itself. This resistance lessened with time." As mentioned previously, another interdisciplinary approach used was the adoption of teaching strategies typically not used in the college mathematics courses. The going was not always easy. Again, in the words of a mathematics professor,

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There were huge arguments between the faculty who were very traditional in their approach and who could not completely bend to meet the demands of the program, even though they tried, and the faculty in the Department of Secondary Education, whose perspective was a very different one. Some of the faculty members were good friends before the program began; and by the end of the first semester, some of these friendships became strained. Fortunately, we were usually able to come to some resolution. And by the end, we were all better friends. We just looked at our mistakes as a learning experience. The proof of this friendship is that after five years e v e r y o n e continues to w o r k closely together, still searching for the best w a y s to teach a n d the m o s t meaningful content to include. R e m a r k i n g o n the m a t h e m a t i c s courses, a s t u d e n t reveals her i m p r e s sions a n d the positive effects of the experiences. The mathematics courses that I have taken in the program provided me with an opportunity to explore the interdisciplinary nature of mathematical concepts. In all of my mathematics courses, we were introduced to the relevance and meaningfulness of mathematical concepts to real-life situations. Our professors introduced us to problems that came from a variety of fields, such as anthropology, architecture, biology, business, chemistry, economics, and the social sciences. My understanding of mathematics has grown, since we were encouraged to relate mathematical concepts discussed in our mathematics courses to real-life situations. As a result, the depth of my knowledge about mathematics has grown significantly. For example, in differential equations we discussed the historical real-life applications of mathematics involved in the Van Meegeren art forgeries after World War II, which led to the conclusions that pieces of artwork were forged. Furthermore, we learned about how differential equations were applied to the Tacoma Bridge disaster that occurred on July 1, 1940, at Puget Sound in the state of Washington.

Language Diversity and Education The presence of only m a t h e m a t i c s majors in his L a n g u a g e Diversity a n d Education course allowed a l a n g u a g e e d u c a t i o n professor special o p p o r tunities for p o w e r f u l interdisciplinary a p p r o a c h e s . In a p e r s o n a l c o m m u nication, the professor describes w h a t his objectives w e r e a n d h o w h e capitalized o n his s t u d e n t s ' m a t h e m a t i c a l interests to m a k e the course m o r e meaningful. In teaching Language, Diversity, and Culture my concern was to provide mathematics students encounters with issues of language diversity as they apply in the educational setting. The students had much more knowledge of mathematics and math teaching than did I, and I needed them to tap their own knowledge to move forward in terms of understanding the educational implications of what we were discussing. I began the course by attempting to explode myths many students

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hold about language, including the role of language "rules" and how language ideology is used to discriminate in the U.S. setting. Then I wanted students to understand some basic principles of second language acquisition and how to utilize these principles in planning, delivering instruction, and evaluating students. Our middle school partners hosted a conference for the students that included mathematics teachers, language teachers, and administrators discussing these issues in their own real-world setting. Students further developed these crucial skills by developing lessons in mathematics first, by eliminating a most vital modality (e.g., visual, auditory) and then trying to invent ways to teach a concept. For example, students were required to teach the Pythagorean Theorem without writing anything on paper or on the board. Then, they could use the material they created in addition to the modality eliminated. It was my hope that they would learn to incorporate paralinguistic contextual clues into their lessons for the benefit of English Language Learners (ELL). By the middle of the course, I realized that the students could take this agenda much further on their own, so I created Language in Mathematics Integration Teams (LIMITs) and directed the students to create a Web-based resource for teachers of mathematics who would have ELL students, in lieu of a final examination. Thus, a Web site was born. 2 The positive impact that L a n g u a g e Diversity a n d C u l t u r e h a d o n stud e n t s is revealed in the w o r d s of one TIME 2000 student. Language Diversity and Education focused on using the context of mathematics as a means for studying language diversity and multiculturalism in the classroom. We worked in groups on designing Web sites that would be relevant to educators who are trying to teach mathematical concepts to students with diverse needs. My group created a Web site about ethnomathematics. This field of study defines the relationship between culture and mathematics that aims to broaden students' knowledge about the history of mathematics. Our research indicated that mathematics and culture could be connected in the classroom to deepen students' understanding and appreciation of the evolution of various mathematical concepts. The designed Web site describes such educational tools as games and children's literature that can be used to teach students about mathematics from a multicultural perspective. Aside from becoming familiar with current technology through the process of designing a Web site, we devised ways of making it more accessible for all students. After we completed the Web site, we incorporated our knowledge of psychological concepts to assess whether we felt that integrating ethnomathematics into the classroom would help students from different backgrounds learn mathematics.

A FINAL W O R D The long-lasting, positive effects of this innovative, i n t e r d i s c i p l i n a r y a p p r o a c h to s e c o n d a r y m a t h e m a t i c s teacher p r e p a r a t i o n will b e m a n i fested w h e n the s t u d e n t s b e c o m e teachers. At the time of this w r i t i n g , t h e first cohort of TIME 2000 s t u d e n t s is s t u d e n t teaching, a p p l y i n g w h a t t h e y h a v e l e a r n e d d u r i n g the course of their four-year p r o g r a m . To w h a t

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degree will they continue to apply an interdisciplinary approach in their own mathematics instruction? What experiences will they design for their own students? How will this approach foster positive attitudes toward mathematics? Only time will tell—and we are looking forward to documenting their successes and struggles. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS The program described in this article, TIME 2000, was funded by the National Science Foundation (Grant No. DUE 9652972). The opinions expressed herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of the National Science Foundation. Charles B. Wang and Computer Associates are gratefully acknowledged for providing primary funding. Special thanks are extended to Professors Eleanor Amour-Thomas and Terry Osborn for sharing their thoughts about participating in the program. NOTES 1. For more information about TIME 2000, visit http://www.qc.edu/time2000. 2. The URL for the LIMITs Web sites is http://seysweb.qc.edu/limits/ index.html. REFERENCES Artzt, A.F. (2000, February). An undergraduate program designed to recruit and prepare future mathematics teachers. Metro Math: Newsletter of the Metropolitan New York Section of the Mathematical Association of America, 3 pp. Feldman, S. (2000, October 1). Where we stand: Thanks, but no thanks. The New York Times, p. WK 7. Glenn Commission. 2000. Before it's too late: A report to the nation from the National Commission on Mathematics and Science Teaching for the 21st Century. Washington, DC: US. Department of Education. Goodlad, J. (1990). Teachers for our nations schools. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Goodnough, A. (2000, September 28). A novice's hard lesson: Bringing order to a class. The New York Times, pp. Al, B7. Gregorian, V. (2001, July 6). How to train—and retain—teachers. The New York Times, p. A17. Lappan, G, Fey, J., Fitzgerald, W., Friel, S., & Phillips, E. (1996). Connected mathematics. Palo Alto, CA: Dale Seymour. Leitzel, J. R. (1991). A call for change: Recommendations for the mathematical preparation of teachers of mathematics. Washington, DC: Mathematical Association of America. National Council of Teachers of Mathematics. (1991). Professional standards for teaching mathematics. Reston, VA: Author. National Council of Teachers of Mathematics. (2000). Principles and standards for school mathematics. Reston, VA: Author.

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Chapter 6

Don't Mourn; Organize! Transdisciplinary Social Studies Education David Gerwin

JOE HILL, EXEMPLAR OF INTERDISCIPLINARY SOCIAL STUDIES "Don't waste any time in mourning. Organizer was union organizer Joe Hill's last wish, wired to a leading labor activist, "Big Bill" Haywood, the day before Hill's execution. On November 19,1915, the State of Utah executed Hill by firing squad for the murder of a grocer. The rules of procedure and evidence were repeatedly violated during the months before trial and at the trial itself, but this seems more related to the sensationalism of the crime than any attempt by Utah to kill an itinerant worker and obscure union organizer. Hill was not personally well known before the murder charge, but the tunes he had written for the "little red songbook" of the International Workers of the World (IWW) meant he was known throughout the organization. The IWW organized and appealed the verdict and, in the process, created a martyr (Dubofsky, 2000). Joe Hill is the archetypal wandering labor organizer, a real-life counterpart to Steinbeck's Tom Joad. His songs ridiculed capitalism, religion, and trust in the bosses, and he worked at eradicating class boundaries by supporting one big union that would control production. During the height of his efforts to organize workers across boundaries early in the twentieth century, Joe Hill probably was not much aware of the disciplinary boundaries university scholars were establishing at the time. Anyone studying the career of Joe Hill can employ a variety of tools and resources that, in academia, are the possession of different disciplines. His music earned him fame, and the Smithsonian has a compilation of his songs (performed by other artists) available on the Folkways

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label. His life and times have their own historical documentation. Since his death he has been the subject of plays, documentaries, and a literary novel by Wallace Stegner (1990). Oral histories recount how he touched other people's lives, and there is even a ballad about his life, "I Dreamed I Saw Joe Hill Last Night," recorded many times over the decades by artists such as Paul Robeson, Pete Seeger, or Billy Bragg (see the Smithsonian Folkways recording). His life is useful in illustrating several claims about the interdisciplinary nature of social studies. If social studies has a place in the curriculum because it leads to civic activism, Joe Hill used music (another subject) as the core of his social activism. This leads us to two interdisciplinary claims of social studies. First, since it is the subject that studies policy and civic engagement, everything that affects society (which effectively means anything anywhere in the school curriculum) is relevant. Second, because it is the study of the entire human past, everything that has happened, encompassing all the disciplines, can be part of socials studies in some way. Joe Hill's musical fame provides us with an example of the second point, the claim of social studies to be about everything humans have done in the world; it includes all art forms and modes of human expression, as well as the history of every subject taught in the curriculum. Whelan (2001) explains history's all-encompassing breadth this way: "No aspect of human existence and its development through time is beyond the scope of historical investigation and analysis. History is uniquely predisposed... to synthesize subject matter from the full range of human knowledge" (p. 47). Studying Joe Hill's music would draw us into a context broader than his labor activism. I learned this circuitously, long after I was already far along in my doctoral studies, when I stepped inside the gospel music tent at the Seattle Folklife festival. The tunes were utterly familiar even though I had not listened to much white gospel before. Then I realized that these were the tunes to all of the old union songs I knew! Joe Hill put new words to old melodies, turning songs about salvation into antireligion songs such as "Pie in the Sky When You Die (That's a Lie!),"— pieces that urge people to put their faith in each other and in unions. His music came from a time and place; anyone studying his music must also study the social context of labor and of late nineteenth century gospel tunes sung by white farmers and workers. A book about similar organizing songs in the 1940s proposes to look at the personal backgrounds of the singers and the changes in American society caused by the Great Depression, World War II, the communist movement, and the "discovery" of American folk music. The book "is not about music per se, but rather about the attempt to use music for political purposes" (Lieberman, 1989, p. xv). The Music in American Life series (University of Illinois Press) in which the book appeared numbered over 70 volumes at the end of the 1980s.

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THE TRANSDISCIPLINARY NATURE OF SOCIAL STUDIES Social studies classes do make efforts to encounter the art, music, and literature of the places and times they study. For instance, to learn about the Sphinx and the pyramids of Egypt, students need to see them, not just read about them. Or, as Elliot Eisner (1991) has written, "to have a broad and deep understanding of the pre-Civil War period in the American South, text alone will not do. The music of slaves, myths and stories that were a part of their lives, programs like Roots, the music and dance of the period, [and] the architecture of their quarters and those of their masters are all relevant sources for enlarging understanding" (p. 551). Making such a variety of materials available to students is a constant challenge to teachers pressured to find time for a curriculum that, in any given year, may stretch chronologically from the Flintstones to the French Revolution and range across the entire globe. The increase of standardized testing and the proliferation of state and national standards has exacerbated this problem. "With all the required district, state, and national curriculum standards, teachers often feel overwhelmed. Time is a critical commodity in the classroom" (Berson, 1999, p. 85). One solution to the problem of combining secondary sources (such as texts, or historian's essays) and primary sources (such as The Declaration of Independence) is the journey box. In this inquiry strategy, teachers present students with a box containing a themed set of photographs, artifacts, literature, informational texts, entries from travel journals, and maps. Students investigating these materials interrelate them, so that maps pinpoint the location of a photograph, travel journals provide an immediate experience of the landscape, and literature allows them a personal link to the place and time. Artifacts allow a hands-on moment that leads to hypothesizing about the purpose of the objects and the world that demanded them (Field & Labbo, 1999). This is an elegant solution that requires either funds to purchase or time to create, and still it demands time for inquiry learning in the classroom. Large-scale reviews of social studies classrooms (which are infrequent) and the anecdotal reporting on social studies classrooms by researchers both find such practices highly unusual. A recent study undertaken by one of my students, Kate Coughlin, captures what the literature portrays as the more usual case of interdisciplinary learning in social studies. At the time of the study she had been teaching 10th grade global history in New York State for four years. The curriculum covers the world from the French Revolution to the present. She has each lesson plan typed up and placed with its handouts in large binders, one binder per unit for the year-long curriculum. Her interest in interdisciplinary teaching prompted her decision to code her own lesson plans to see how frequently and in what manner she incorporated art,

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music, and literature into her history lessons. She coded 100 lesson plans, 41 of which included art, music, or literature. Sixteen times she used the humanities materials as a motivating device to engage students in the heart of the lesson, and 25 times the art, music, or literature was the focus of her lesson. She also found that she "almost always told the students what they were seeing in the art, music, or literature—I analyzed it for them and presented them with the results." Coughlin was aware of the time constraints that led to this practice; she reports, "I sacrificed interdisciplinary methods for the sake of document exposure." By explaining to her students what they were seeing or hearing or reading, she allowed herself time "to expose them to the primary source, an interpretation, and a textbook interpretation of the event." She concluded that "a radical approach would be to teach the students the skills to analyze art, music, and literature and then allow them to use those skills to learn about history" (Coughlin, 2002, pp. 16-19). Her action research provides an example of how most social studies courses approach art, music, drama, or literature. It is encountered as an illustration of the Renaissance or of a revolution but rarely on its terms. This chapter considers two efforts related to teacher education—the American Social History Project and a collaboration with the Lincoln Center Institute—engaged in by the City University of New York or, specifically, Queens College. Both efforts comprise an attempt to move away from the "telling" that Coughlin recognizes as the norm and toward the practice she hopes to develop: allowing students to encounter powerful human creations on their own terms and then learn about the culture that produced such work. Social studies also claims to be interdisciplinary in its purpose of leading students toward democratic, civic engagement. Joe Hill had a career of civic engagement that, although championing causes that might infuriate many educators, had an intensity about it that would make any social studies teacher proud. He joined the front lines of the debate over how much power capital should have over working people's lives and what rights and capital workers ought to retain. Social studies advocates argue that any subject has a bearing on public policies, and that aspect of the subject is also properly the provenance of the social studies curriculum. As biology, chemistry, physics, or earth science engage environmental politics, they are integral to the social studies. Fields such as economics or economic history draw upon mathematics and graphs and charts to understand the Great Depression, a past engagement with policy. Lest anyone misunderstand these examples, art is not restricted to understanding culture, nor are math and science limited to engaging policy debates. Plenty of art, from the New Deal's government-sponsored murals, to the photographs of farmers in the Depression, to Woody Guthrie's songs, speaks volumes about the circumstances in which it was created, thus warranting examination as our students consider public policy. Curriculum units

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developed by teachers working with both the National Archives and the Organization of American Historians give attention to government-sponsored public art during the New Deal years. A great deal of economic history that helps one understand the Renaissance, the French Revolution, the Egyptian pyramids, or the rebuilding of Paris may be studied mathematically. Analysis of census data and other quantitative approaches to learning about the past (dubbed cliometrics) have made mathematics one of the key tools of social history, often used in combination with folklore, oral history, and literature. A number of articles discuss the use of mathematics and social studies in the same classroom (Abel & Abel, 1996; Hollister, 1995; Lockledge, 1993; Rose & Schuncke, 1997). Some school districts try to separate the policy from the science, in one case allowing social studies teachers to discuss AIDS as public policy but restricting discussion of actual facts of the disease to health class. It is hard to see how a discussion of AIDS in China, South Africa, or New York City could proceed without any clarification of how the disease is transmitted. In the case of civic education, too, social studies classes often fail to live up to their charge. The newest state examinations require knowledge of an enormous amount of material, formally at least, and citizenship is not something you can test reliably. On this score, the national standards express the conflicts between these mandates in an instructive fashion. This chapter examines the national standards of the National Council for the Social Studies (NCSS) and points interested readers toward some of the too many other national standards for social studies teachers. It recounts the experience of two interdisciplinary projects named above that have engaged the Queens College social studies program, and it traces the projects' trajectories. Finally, it considers some other writing in the field and the systemic changes that may make transdisciplinary teaching and learning possible. SOCIAL STUDIES A N D DISCIPLINARY STANDARDS Joe Hill's music and his civic engagement in union organizing inspired my broad conception of social studies in-the-world as engaging all aspects of the human past and all issues that concern citizens. A more formal look at the subject area reveals that social studies is an inherently interdisciplinary or transdisciplinary subject. What is taught as social studies at the high school level is divided into (at least) history, political science, sociology, economics, geography, and anthropology at the college level, with perhaps urban studies, labor studies, and psychology making regular curricular appearances. In contrast to other fields, such as English or math, which have a single set of standards, teachers in the social studies field can consult national standards in social studies and also in history, economics, geography, and civics/political science.

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At the university level, teaching a social studies methods course is a transdisciplinary experience in a way that teaching an English or mathematics course is not. Instead of having a group of students with the same liberal arts major, the instructor encounters students with diverse majors in history, economics, anthropology, sociology, or political science. Depending on where one teaches, the list may expand to include psychology and various interdisciplinary studies (urban, labor, American, Latino, African American, Judiac, or women's studies, to name a few). The differences between anthropology and sociology and history are quite significant. The other area in education that fields such a mix is science. There chemistry, biology, and physics coexist. Although some courses such as earth science are linked to them, these sciences are usually taught as separate classes (biology, chemistry, physics). Yet every social studies class is supposed to provide students with some work in geography, some civic purpose, and some economics, as well as the history of whatever topic is being studied. Rarely is there a clear demarcation. The NCSS standards have received criticism for being disciplinary in a representative rather than an integrative way. The introduction to Expectations of Excellence, the publication providing the NCSS's curriculum standards, proclaims that "social studies is the integrated study of the social sciences and humanities to promote civic competence" (NCSS, 1994, p. 3). The joke comes in the next sentence, when the definition of social studies suddenly becomes a list. "Within the school program, social studies provides coordinated, systematic study drawing upon such disciplines as anthropology, archaeology, economics, geography, history, law, philosophy, political science, psychology, religion, and sociology, as well as appropriate content from the humanities, mathematics, and natural sciences" (p. 3). Of course in the schools and in many of the other standards, there are many lists, of dates and topics to be covered and of skills to be mastered— from all of the disciplines, although history predominates. The result is that historians are unhappy with the mishmash of social studies that dilutes the history, and scholars from other social science disciplines feel unfairly eclipsed by history In any case, the national standards sound like they provide broad, potentially interdisciplinary thematic guidance, but the themes are also allocated by discipline. The 10 themes (Martel, 1999; Ochoa-Becker, 2001) are commonly understood as follows: I. II. III. IV. V. VI.

Culture Time, Continuity, and Change People, Places, and Environment Individual Development and Identity Individuals, Groups, and Institutions Power, Authority, and Governance

Anthropology History Geography Psychology Sociology Political Science

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VII. Production, Distribution and Consumption VIII. Science, Technology, and Society IX. Global Connections X. Civic Ideals and Practices

Economics This might be interdisciplinary, at the very least a history of science Themes I—VIII applied to the topic or idea of globalization Civics (Law and Political Science)

The attempt to pass social studies off as an interdisciplinary subject is also compromised by the existence of separate disciplinary standards. A set of national standards exists for civics, economics, U.S. history, world history, generic history, geography, and so on, each drawn up by a national organization devoted to promoting its respective discipline in schools. At the high school level, the curriculum is also divided up by disciplines, often reinforced by state exams that are increasingly becoming graduation requirements. At this level there are U.S. history surveys, world history surveys, and electives or requirements in economics, civics/government, state history, psychology, law, and other elements of the curriculum. The most common attempts at integration are the use of geography in history classes or the attention that U.S. history classes pay to the Constitution and its amendments (civics or political science) as specific periods in history are covered. Teacher preparation is similarly affected by these disciplinary battles. Some states license generally in social studies, and some have specialist licenses (e.g., history or economics). New York State will require that every social studies teacher receiving a license on or after January 1, 2004, have one economics course, one political science course, and 21 credits in history and geography. That is not an interdisciplinary mandate; it is a mandate that teachers have some disciplinary background in the state-mandated and disciplinarily distinct courses of U.S. History (grades 7,8, and 11), World History (grades 9 and 10), Participation in Government (civics, grade 12), and Economics (grade 12). Social studies has the potential to involve many different disciplines within its own classroom; to bridge different disciplines as all necessary to studying a period or place or for taking civic action; or to link with another class in a larger project. In practice, though, social studies is hedged in by many requirements to cover material and is often less a synthesis of university disciplines than a collection of separate time slots. TWO TRANSDISCIPLINARY EXPERIMENTS The Lincoln Center Institute Queens College, in collaboration with the Lincoln Center Institute (LCI), made a significant effort to foster a transdisciplinary approach to

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teaching among both faculty and preservice students in the secondary education programs of art, English, and social studies. This included an entire year of preparation followed by an infusion of shows, art, and encounters with teaching artists into the methods and student-teaching experiences. The program was breathtaking in its scope. Ordinarily, students taking the methods courses or student teaching are in separate classes by subject area, but this program brought the students together in interdisciplinary groups whenever they went to a show or had some other encounter with art. Throughout their methods and student teaching, both of which are the most formative of experiences, students were experiencing art in an interdisciplinary setting. The social studies program participated in the project from 1997 to 2000 and withdrew, somewhat abruptly, after three years with the project. In 2002 the program officially abandoned the link with methods and student teaching and became an interdisciplinary graduate class for in-service art and English teachers earning their master's degrees. Due to low student enrollment in the fall of 2002 it did not run, which is not unusual for a new course, and perhaps it suffered because students currently working toward their master's degrees had already had the LCI experience as preservice teachers. In any case, it will be offered again next year. The LCI preservice teaching initiative foundered in part due to logistics. The core faculty that participated during the year of planning experienced turnover; some faculty left Queens College for other institutions or received promotions, and new faculty arrived, while teaching artists moved in and out of the LCI as well. There simply were not enough teaching artists involved in the initial planning year to staff all of the class sections at Queens College. Also on the level of technical problems, the repertoire of shows available for our classes in any given year was a matter in which the Queens College faculty had no input whatsoever. Shows were selected for the high school and elementary school classes that were the primary audience of the LCI. As a result, we could never choose shows that fit our curriculum or develop some set pieces of shows that would be available for several years so as to refine our collaboration. We had to improvise every year based upon what was available, and by the program's second year we also had to get to know new teaching artists or new faculty nearly every year. The first year of the LCI collaboration with Queens College was run strictly as a faculty development program. Once a month, on a Monday, my colleagues in social studies, art, and English education would gather at Lincoln Center for a workshop. Led by a team that consisted of one teaching artist and one education faculty member, we would participate in a workshop designed to have us experience some aspect of the upcoming performance we would attend or the art we would encounter. Once we met at the Museum of Modern Art and made collages using magazine

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images before going up to look at Wyeth paintings of powerful scenes involving people and landscapes. We learned some dance rhythms. And we tried to integrate some disciplinary concerns into the workshop. When my LCI partner and I led the group, we handed out different types of biographies to other Queens College/Lincoln Center Institute (QC/LCI) pairs and had them compose and perform music based on a time line, a series of quotations, and a conventional narrative. When we discussed the experience, we spoke of issues we encountered in composing and of different forms of representation in history. We also considered the composing, and the act of improvising from the instruments at hand, as a metaphor for teaching. That first year was a wonderful experience, and for me it was an initiation into the education department in which I met my colleagues in a transdisciplinary setting. At Queens this experience was enhanced by Philip Jackson's residency as a visiting university professor, and he hosted a faculty seminar on John Dewey and Art. Implementing the program with undergraduate and postbaccalaureate students during the methods and student-teaching semesters was a much more difficult experience, and the multiple metaphors that worked for us as faculty members were often too much to sustain in the classroom. Our original theory was that we could show each teacher how to incorporate art into his or her own disciplinary classroom and how to reflect on teaching and on becoming teachers through encounters with art, and we hoped they would come away with some understanding of the art forms themselves. Often we tried to achieve all three aims at once. In retrospect, it might have been better to work with one metaphor or on one analogic level at a time. These different metaphors also became arenas of conflict, as some teaching artists were committed only to the encounter with art, while some of our students wanted only to learn about their discipline. As these different metaphors collided, the program experienced growing pains. Sculpture and Open Questioning One project always worked—students liked and understood it and we felt it engaged both teaching and art. Jerry, one of the teaching artists who had participated in planning during the initial year of collaboration, developed a half-day workshop on looking at art and discussing it. On weekends, evenings, or afternoons, we would bring some of our students to a museum, one year the Noguchi sculpture garden, and one year the Museum of Modern Art. Jerry would take groups around to look at a sculpture, a painting, or a chair. He would ask students questions about what they saw, sticking at first to matters of form and line and heaviness or lightness. He would have students move their bodies together to emulate a sculpture or bend like a line in a painting. Gradually he worked

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them toward meaning, always helping the students ground their ideas in an observation about the elements of the work of art. The session satisfied Jerry and the commitments of the LCI because he helped students (and me) learn about how to look at art. The session satisfied our students because they learned about open questioning and inquiry teaching and realized that he was helping them form intelligent statements about art, even though they had no prior knowledge of the artists. Living through an inquiry experience with a master teacher—and Jerry was masterful— helped students think their way into the possibility of incorporating inquiry strategies into the classroom. For some it suggested that they could bring a class to a museum without becoming an expert on everything the class would see. Social studies, which would have required addressing the time period and conditions when the works were created, was not a part of this conversation. Even the Noguchi design for a memorial at Hiroshima, accepted but then rejected by the Japanese government because Noguchi was an American citizen, and a piece inspired by lynching, did not lead to a historical conversation. We were looking at art, not at its context. Clowning One project that had disastrous results revolved around a two-man show set in South Africa during apartheid. As a prelude to the show, a teaching artist who had not been part of our year-long preparations came to my social studies methods classroom and did an exercise on clowning. Everyone in the class received a number from one to four, and the ones bossed the twos, who bossed the threes, who in turn bossed the fours. There were some written orders passed to the ones, who ordered the twos to make drawings, or fold paper, or perform some other task, and fairly often the twos just passed the task down the line. The ones were instructed to badger their subordinates. Later, while giving orders regarding another task, the ones were given clown noses to wear and balloons to blow up and use to hit their subordinates. It was a pretty funny classroom for 10 minutes. When it came time to discuss the exercise, the teaching artist focused on clowning—what it looked like, how it spoofed authority. When I tried to steer the conversation toward teaching and the way students might look at teachers, or the hierarchy of principals, department chairs, teachers, and students, the teaching artist shut down the conversation. She also absolutely refused to discuss the play itself with the students, since that violated the LCI spirit of approaching the work of art on its own merits. The next day we discovered a miscommunication. In general, the LCI clearly communicates to its teacher artists and to elementary and secondary teachers that the artists are just there to prepare students to

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encounter the work of art. They do not discuss the artwork itself beforehand. The idea of using the art as a way to reflect on teaching had not been explained to this teaching artist, nor had anyone suggested that it would be appropriate to talk about teaching the specific play to a social studies class, and she had not been a part of our project. My class played along, but they did not see the purpose in spending a session clowning. Seeing the play provided another revelation about the meaning of the project to my students. Some of my students were there, along with those from many other sections and disciplines. Even with the tips on clowning, they struggled to follow the show. There was no scenery beyond a prop or two to sit on. One actor was black and the other was white; but in the convention of the play, whoever wore a clown nose was white and in authority, and whoever had taken the clown nose off was black and subordinate. To play a number of characters, the two actors did not even change costume; they just assumed a different manner and relationship. In the discussion with the actors after the play, most of my students were silent. As we filed into the lobby I spoke with some of them. The LCI representative was listening in, about to speak to me, and I watched her jaw drop as she understood from their comments that they could not follow the play because they had never seen a show that was not a big Broadway musical. They had never been to Lincoln Center, they had never seen a play without scenery, and they were thoroughly confused. The interdisciplinary framework failed these students. Unlike the English or art majors, who had reason to be in theatres or museums or in Manhattan with some regularity, my socials studies students found themselves in an uninviting experience in foreign territory. By focusing on clowning but not directly discussing the play, the teaching artist intended to give them a path into the play, which worked to the extent that they related to the clowning. But by omitting the social context of apartheid in South Africa, she had omitted a conversation that would have let them follow the play and think about using it with their students. By omitting a direct discussion of the play's conventions, she and I failed to give them the instruction they needed. Finally, since we never did discuss clowning and teaching, the students did not even have that notion in mind when they saw the play. It was an obscure, mandatory evening out of the house, exposure to high culture in a sense that both the LCI and Queens College faculty sought to avoid. In the case of this one play about South Africa under apartheid the English and art students already had enough of a background in theater to follow a play without a set, scenery, or costume changes. Since they were already familiar with the conventions of the play, the clowing was enough preparation to help them quickly figure out that the person with the clown nose on was dominant, and in South Africa at the time of the play this meant he was white. They may or may not have

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been able to think about the teacher as the dominant figure in the classroom, but they could at least enjoy the show and think about what their students would have learned from viewing the performance. For disciplinary reasons, familiarity with theater being part of becoming an English or art educator, the clowning exercise prepared them for the play. My social studies students, who participated in the identical clowing exercise, where not prepared to follow the play. Their history or other social science major did not require them to take classes about plays, or assign plays (either seen or read) in their courses, nor did their choice to become social studies educators force them to consider how to create scenery, mount plays, or teach plays. The nature of their discipline, history/social science, omits such preparation in theater, so the clowing exercise that proved adequate for the English and art education students was inadequate, for disciplinary reasons, to prepare the social studies methods students. A Revolution of Sound One other project captures the quirky disciplinary hits and misses of the collaboration. A sound installation was coming to the LCI. It consisted of found objects hung from the ceiling or placed on the floor around the room and wired for sound. There would be ambient noise in the room, but as a viewer approached an object—a discarded barbecue grill, for example—a technician would increase the volume on the microphone inside the grill. Thus it was an interactive sound-sculpture experience. Knowing that my students were unlikely to have encountered anything like this, the teaching artist, Dan, who had participated in some of the initial year's planning exercises, devised a preliminary "revolution of sound" activity for the social studies sections. Wearing an army cap with a Soviet-style red star, he led my class in an oath to the revolutionary cause of freeing sound. Using garbage from a nearby waste can, he constructed a model of a symphony hall, gathered the class around it, and had them decide how to break down all of the oppressive elements, from having instruments confined to the stage and the audience confined to seats, to having a set score, lights on instruments, or even a special room for the concert. Instead, my students grabbed chairs, trash cans, and plastic soda bottles, turned out the lights, and switched roles from audience to musician (some became instruments). For five minutes there was total chaos as the sounds were set free. It was a "moment of madness," as historians have described revolutionary experiences. It had a social studies feel to it. In a second session, without Dan, we discussed the class members' perception that they had come up with the methods of freeing sound all on their own; they were surprised to see Dan's lesson plan predicting what the moment would look like. I showed them how, by structuring the elements of the "oppressive" concert hall and calling attention to those elements one after the

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other, Dan had set the parameters for their revolution. It was a fine demonstration of how much planning goes into an "unstructured" classroom moment. The experience opened up possibilities for lessons on revolution and led to engaged reflections on lesson planning, but no student went to Lincoln Center to view the installation. The disciplinary and teacher talk were fine, but the revolution of sound had not persuaded them to value an aesthetic encounter enough to visit Lincoln Center in Manhattan on a weekday afternoon. LCI in Retrospect In the second year that we involved our students in the program, which was actually the third year of the QC/LCI collaboration, I did not teach any sections of the spring semester social studies student teaching class. A colleague who had the class grew tired of fighting student hostility to the program. Some students were annoyed that they were forced to attend a free jazz concert at Lincoln Center during the month of December. They like jazz, but they would have purchased the tickets themselves in January, after their papers were finished. The application to their own teaching was not clear to them. The metaphor of jazz as teaching, the comparison drawn between two forms of improvisation, was not enough to grab them two weeks from finals. During student teaching, they felt even more pressed for time. Faced with these complaints, my colleague simply withdrew his social studies classes from the program. The other two members of the program, a senior colleague and me, treated this as an understandable pedagogic decision and not as a binding, programwide withdrawal from the LCI collaboration, but that is essentially what happened. In retrospect, enough English and art majors/education minors had the disciplinary background to appreciate the art they encountered and to reflect on the act of teaching as art form through their experience of the art. In fact, since art in the form of a play or literature or a painting or sculpture is often the object of a lesson or unit for the secondary English or art class, encountering artwork or a play may prompt a student to think about how to teach it. Social studies teachers were at least one step, or one metaphor, distant from this framework. Though art could be used in teaching history, it was rarely the subject of a history class, as Kate Coughlin showed in reviewing her own lessons. Social studies students, in this analysis, needed more explicit connections to the art and more explicit connections between art and teaching. The collaboration might have worked better for the social studies student-teachers, I think, had it been presented as an explicit workshop about interdisciplinary teaching and learning. It might also have succeeded as a workshop about the roles of schools in exposing students to the cultural possibilities of New York City. Either way, it would have appealed to them

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as general teachers, not as social studies teachers. Another option would be to spend much more class time on this project, with explicit work on developing an appreciation of art as (1) a source for studying history, (2) a result of history, and (3) a powerful means of understanding history. Creating such a curriculum would have taken perhaps more than the year of faculty planning time we gave it. The American Social History Project At the same time that the LCI was collaborating with Queens College to provide preservice teachers with a transdisciplinary experience, the American Social History Project collaborated with the New York City Board of Education to integrate social studies and English classes. In this project, the 11th grade American History class was to link up with the 11th grade American Literature class (Gerwin and Manolios, 2001). One or two classes would have the same teaching team for English and social studies all year long. A typical interdisciplinary project would be to have the students create a colonial newspaper, using content from the history classes and teaching journalistic techniques from English. Students might read The Crucible while studying McCarthyism and then hold their own mock trial using legal procedures and tapping characters from the play or from history. Studying Jacob Lawrence's set of paintings collectively titled "The Migration of the Negro," depicting the great migration of African Americans from the thirties through World War II, might result in short stories in English and historical narratives in social studies. In the best of the partnerships I worked with, the powerful characters in a story caught the students' imagination and motivated their study of the historical material. In other partnerships, English teachers complained that the study of the literature was subordinated to the needs of the history curriculum, particularly its fast-paced coverage of different events in chronological order. Successful teams I encountered employed a variety of strategies to cope with these issues: unlinking the classes for several weeks at a time; teaching the history thematically to follow The Song of Solomon from the thirties to the eighties back to Reconstruction; or embarking on extended research projects in the history class that matched the more open-ended English curriculum. Over time, schools erected some impediments to the collaborations. They might schedule the same students in both classes, but not give both teachers a common planning period, making it difficult to keep the curriculum related. They might not block-schedule the same students for a year, meaning that each semester time had to be devoted to helping the students understand a transdisciplinary approach. They might refuse to schedule the exact same pupils in both classes, creating a situation where a handful of students might be out of place and require some different assignments. This program encoun-

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tered both logistical and disciplinary barriers and required consistent administrative and teacher commitment to work over the long term. TRANSDISCIPLINARY TEACHING In this chapter I have tried to provide the sort of "careful description of what happens when new curricula are put into practice" (Wineburg & Grossman, 2000) that writers who recognize the complexity of interdisciplinary collaborations have requested. These descriptions underscore the time and planning needed to achieve transdisciplinary curricula and the continued legitimate power of the disciplines as helpful ways to see the world. The language of theater and painting and art that the English and art preservice students shared with the LCI teaching artists was a powerful bond that allowed certain qualities of a work or its relevance to the classroom to be self-evident. Social studies teachers, lacking that disciplinary grounding, were often left behind. We did not sufficiently attend to our different disciplinary perspectives, and the program suffered. The descriptions also give some sense of the power that can be achieved when an experience of art opens the door to inquiry teaching, or when the powerful empathy a student feels for a character in a work of literature or a painting inspires that student to learn about the time period and larger world that the character inhabited.

REFERENCES Abel, F.J., & Abel, J.P. (1996). Integrating mathematics and social studies based on Internet resources. Teacher Education, pp. 1-4. Berson, M. (1999). Connecting literature with K-8 National Geography Standards. The Social Studies, 90(2), pp. 85-92. Coughlin, K. (2002). The use of art, music and literature in the general education social studies classroom. Unpublished master's research project in Secondary Education, Social Studies, Queens College, City University of New York, New York. Dubofsky, M. (2000). We shall be all (Abridged ed.). Chicago: University of Illinois Press. Eisner, E. (1991). Art, music, and literature in the social studies. In J. Shaver (Ed.), Handbook of research on social studies teaching and learning. New York: MacMillan. Field, S. & Labbo, L. (1999). Journey boxes. The Social Studies, 90(A), 177-82. Gerwin, D., & Manolios, V. (2001). Making connections: Time and team teaching in the American Social History Project classroom. In M. Christenson, M. Johnston, & J. Norris (Eds.), Teaching together: School/university collaborations to improve social studies education (pp. 119-128). Washington DC: National Council for the Social Studies. Hollister, B.C. (1995). Social math in the classroom. Social Education, 59(1), pp. 14-16.

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Lieberman, R. (1989). My song is my weapon. Chicago: University of Illinois Press. Lockledge, A. (1993). Math as the language and tool of social studies. Social Studies and the Young Learner, 6(1), pp. 3-6. Martel, E. (1999). Can 'social studies 7 standards prepare history teachers? Perspectives Online. Retrieved November 19, 2002, from http://www.theaha.org/ perspectives/issues/1999/9910/9910VIE.CFM NCSS. (1994). Expectations of excellence: Curriculum standards for social studies. Bulletin no. 89. Washington, DC: Author. Ochoa-Becker, A. (2001). A critique of the NCSS curriculum standards. Social Education, 65(3), pp. 165 -168. Rose, T.D., & Schuncke, G.M. (1997). Problem solving: The link between social studies and mathematics. Clearing House, 70(3), pp. 137-140. Stegner, W. (1990). Joe Hill. New York: Penguin. Whelan, M. (2001). Why the study of history should be the core of social studies education. In E.W. Ross (Ed.), The Social Studies Curriculum (2d ed., pp. 43-56). Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Wineburg, S., & Grossman, P. (2000). Interdisciplinary curriculum. New York: Teachers College Press. R E L A T E D I N T E R N E T SITES American Social History Project, http://www.ashp.cuny.edu/ Information on the Queens College collaboration with LCI can be found at http://www.lcinstitute.org/ep-tec.asp Joe Hill (Web page by PBS), http://www.pbs.org/joehill/story/index.html Lincoln Center Institute, http://www.lincolncenter.org/lci/index.htm National Geography Standards, http://www.nationalgeographic.com/resources/ ngo/education/standardslist.html National Standards for Civics and Government, http://www.civiced.org/ stds.html National Standards for Economics, http://www.economicsamerica.org/ standards/ National Standards for History, http://www.sscnet.ucla.edu/nchs/standards/ Photos from Joe Hill Conference (held at the University of Utah in 1990), http://www.lib.utah.edu/spc/photo/p445/p445.html The Songs of Joe Hill, http://www.fortunecity.eom/tinpan/parton/2/hill.html

Chapter 7

Reading the World and W r i t i n g to Learn: Lessons from Writers about Creating Transdisciplinary Inquiry Douglas Kaufman

The majority of interdisciplinary projects should never take place. Fraught with cute activities that are often surprisingly disjointed, these projects demonstrate a severely limited understanding of the possibilities inherent in tying together the visions of different disciplines into a more holistic understanding of the world. As a result, they do not serve the primary intended purpose of interdisciplinarity. Understanding this purpose is important and must begin with a clear working definition. Jacobs (1989) provides a solid start. She defines interdisciplinary as "a knowledge view and curriculum approach that consciously applies methodology and language from more than one discipline to examine a central theme, issue, problem, topic, or experience ,/ (p. 8). Jacobs stresses interdisciplinary learning's attention to linkages rather than delineations as it "nurtures a different perspective with focus on themes and problems of life experience" (p. 8). This definition suggests interdisciplinarity's potential to connect apparently disparate aspects of life into a big-picture view of things that may be greater than the sum of its parts. A good interdisciplinary study is, at its essence, a pursuit of holism. But the typical interdisciplinary project belies this purpose. Many secondary teachers may understand the purpose of interdisciplinarity on an abstract or theoretical level; they may even recognize its value as a holistic enterprise. However, in practical terms, their devotion to their subject areas—and to the content knowledge associated with them—may distort their approaches in ways that make them all too similar to any traditionally fragmented curriculum. A particular dissonance emerges that undermines the pursuit of holism, which the teacher may not even recognize.

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Secondary teachers' often slavish devotion to their subject matter is understandable—they love their subjects! I have interviewed both elementary and secondary teachers about why they entered teaching, and a general pattern emerges from their answers: whereas all express a variety of reasons for entering the field, the secondary teachers talk much more often about their love of a particular subject and their desire to share what they know and love with others. The secondary school, of course, is designed for them—they choose their subject; they study their subject; and, when they enter the profession, they teach their subject. It is a neat and relatively simple passage from preservice to inservice work. The focus on the subject matter provides comforting boundaries for the uncomfortable beginning teacher—a security blanket of discrete knowledge that keeps at bay the bogeymen of confusion and chaos. But with this primary devotion to the specific subject comes the problem of curricular fragmentation—the very problem interdisciplinarity purports to eliminate. The result is often what I call the "cute" interdisciplinary unit. In units like these, a theme is chosen, sometimes almost at random, and then the great chase is on to find different activities that address the traditional—and separate—curricular goals of each discipline. Here's an imaginary example of how these units get created: Geometry Teacher (Sitting with his colleagues, trying to develop an interdisciplinary plan of study): I love this Arctic theme we're playing with. Do you think I can use igloos to teach concepts of spheres? If I cut some Styrofoam balls in half... Art Teacher: Hey! We're doing three-dimensional art! We can use that stuff for an igloo mobile in the lobby! History Teacher: Ooooh, that's cuuuute! Well, I'm doing a project about family generations. I was thinking that my class could mail a stuffed polar bear to a school across the country. We'll attach a note to it asking students to send us a history of their region, and then they can pass on the bear to a school in another state! Science Teacher: Cute idea! Well, I was thinking...

Does this exchange sound extreme? It isn't. From personal experience, I assure you it's not too far removed from reality. The passion is often there, but the theory behind interdisciplinarity doesn't reach practice. To illustrate further, I'd like to look more closely at some of the problems behind the creation of interdisciplinary units by focusing on an example provided by Heidi Hayes Jacobs in her book Interdisciplinary Curriculum: Design and Implementation (1989). This book, perhaps the most widely cited work on the topic, is one I consider excellent in many respects. In chapter 4, Jacobs offers a step-by-step approach for designing an integrated unit. The steps include 1. selecting an organizing center, 2. brainstorming associations,

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3. establishing guiding questions to serve as a scope and sequence, and 4. writing activities for implementation. When teachers conduct step 1, writes Jacobs, the organizing center "acts as the focus for curriculum development. The topic can be a theme, subject area, event, issue, or problem" (p. 54). So far, so good. A focus for any curriculum unit is essential, clarifying a real purpose for inquiry and limiting the curricular territory to something manageable. The topic or theme can then ostensibly become a point of focus for each of the academic disciplines. One of the themes that Jacobs uses as an illustration is called Flight. In step 2, curriculum developers create the graphic device of a spoked wheel, with the curriculum theme serving as the hub and the different subject areas providing the spokes. They then brainstorm associations for each subject area, which are ideas that will "encourage the deliberate exploration of the theme from all discipline fields" (p. 55). Associations may include questions, topics, people, ideas, and materials that relate to the central topic. The teacher jots down associations under the discipline where an association might fall. For example, the name of a famous figure might fall under social studies and language arts. (p. 56) The associations given as examples in Jacobs's Flight unit are as shown in Table 7.1. Jacobs asserts that before this brainstorming begins, students must understand the unique characteristics of each discipline "and that each discipline allows them to view the theme from a distinct perspective" (p. 55). But here, her design hits a snag. Brainstorming of associations at this point in the process is a fundamental mistake that undermines the very reasons for interdisciplinarity, as spelled out in Jacobs's own definition of it. If the purpose of interdisciplinarity is to use the various disciplines as distinct perspectives in order to explore the central theme, then filling the curriculum with activities designed to ensure that every discipline gets covered weakens this focus. It moves us closer to a model of investigation little different than if we were to teach the different subject areas in isolation. The reason is this: at this point the investigators have developed no questions about the theme. It is therefore impossible to know whether or not the associations just brainstormed will be relevant to answering any subsequent questions. The focus of the endeavor has moved away from the theme and back toward learning the specific content matter of each individual discipline. There is no assurance that activities arising from these associations will enlighten the learner in regard to the theme in any meaningful way. One can clearly see the problem as we then move on to step 3, in which the investigators create questions about the theme that will "take the array of brainstormed associations from the wheel and organize them" (p. 59).

Table 7.1 Jacobs's (1989) Flight unit associations Philosophy Fight or Flight? The Ethics of Airport Noise Why do we fly?

Math Angles for a smooth landing

Science Birds-flight patterns

Scale models of airport

Aerodynamics

Insects that fly Economics of flying, airfares, etc. Space flight UFO's

Social Studies History of flight Compare social value of balloon, jet, etc. Occupations in flight

Language Arts Biographies: Wright Bros., Amelia Earhardt, James Audoban Flying heroes: Superman, Peter Pan, Icarus

The Arts Da Vinci's designs Design Japanese Kite Films of flight— Star Wars Mobiles

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The point of the questions should not be to organize predetermined associations but to identify the crucial points of inquiry that will lead the investigators to a much deeper understanding of the theme. The associations should be tools for that inquiry; however, because the questions are created after associations are in place, they cannot effectively eliminate those associations that may be peripheral to the theme. Clearly, the associations and activities of each discipline—rather than the theme itself— become the focus of the endeavor. After all, questions about the theme have not yet been asked! Unfortunately, if any of the associations, no matter how intriguing in their own right, do not necessarily lead the investigator toward a richer understanding of the theme at hand, they detract from the fundamental purpose of interdisciplinarity Hayes's Flight unit example, in fact, illustrates this danger. Having brainstormed their associations, the teachers creating the unit then move on to step 3. They create four questions that the unit will ostensibly serve to answer: 1. 2. 3. 4.

What flies? How and why do things in nature fly? What has been the impact of flight on human beings? What is the future of flight? (p. 59)

To me, both the questions and the previously created associations are potentially worthy of investigation. However, only very weak connections exist between the two: several of the associations have questionable value in helping to answer any of the questions. Take a look at the associations under Philosophy, for instance. Whereas the association "Why do we fly?" clearly links with question 2 ("How and why do things in nature fly?"), it is much less likely that investigation of the concepts "Fight or flight" and "The ethics of airport noise" will serve to answer any of the four questions in a substantive way. In the other subject areas, the problem is the same. In Math, investigating angles for a smooth landing may or may not help to answer how things fly, but creating scale models of an airport or learning about the economics of flying do not lead to a clearer understanding of any of the guiding questions. In Science, studying birds' flight patterns, aerodynamics, insects that fly, and space flight may help to answer question 2, but studying UFOs appears to relate to none of the questions. In Social Studies, an opportunity to learn more about the impact of flight on human beings (question 3) seems obscured or wasted: the associations of "History of flight," "Compare the social value of balloon, jet, etc.," and "Occupations in flight" appear to have only tentative connections to the questions. Where is an association that directly discusses flight's impact on our ability to travel vast distances in short periods of time, for instance? In Language Arts, investigators will read biographies of influential figures in the history of flight and discuss fly-

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ing heroes; but, yet again, direct connections to any guiding questions are vague, at best. In the arts, studying Da Vinci's designs and kites may help to answer question 3, but how will studying films like Star Wars and creating mobiles provide answers to these specific questions? Again, any of these associations might make a wonderful focus of study from which the student might learn and grow. However, it is also clear that many of them exist not to answer the guiding questions but because they are traditionally affiliated with the individual disciplines; they better serve to investigate discrete subject area skills and concepts than they do to offer an integrated perspective on a larger theme. Learning discrete subject area skills and concepts is essential, but it can be done just as well outside an interdisciplinary unit as within it. In the meantime, the teachers have worked inordinately hard to create an integrated unit, expending valuable time, resources, and personal investment with very little to show for it. Each discipline still functions more or less as the traditional isolated domain filled with isolated material that needs to be learned. The artificial sense of unity provided by the theme does not serve a higher aim of holistic learning that offers a more complex perspective of the world and its interrelationships. Instead, we lose the whole point of interdisciplinarity in our magnetic attraction to subject matter. Let me summarize the backward nature of this focus with the diagram in Figure 7.1. Here, the theme serves as an almost arbitrary starting point from which to learn the subject matter of the discipline or disciplines that surround it. Given the limitations from which I feel this conception of the interdisciplinary unit suffers, I devote the rest of this chapter to conceptualizing another approach to interdisciplinary practice—one that leads toward accomplishing its theoretical intent. This conception is well represented by Meeth's (1978) definition of transdisciplinarity, which moves beyond a central focus on the disciplines: The highest level of integrated study is transdisciplinary, which is not of the disciplines at all. Transdisciplinary means beyond the disciplines. Whereas interdisciplinary programs start with the discipline, transdisciplinary programs start with the issue or problem and, through the process of problem solving, bring to bear the knowledge of those disciplines that contributes to a solution or resolution, (p. 10) As a teacher of writing and literacy education, I draw my own conceptualization of transdisciplinarity from a couple of my heroes in the field of writing pedagogy. I believe that their approaches to writing and learning have the potential to cast all the disciplines in a new light that leads to more holistic, comprehensive understandings of the world. The first writer I introduce is Donald Murray, who insists that we write not only to disseminate information but also to learn.

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Figure 7.1 A "Backward" Focus for Interdisciplinary Learning

WRITING TO LEARN: PRACTICING A DISCIPLINE TO EXPLORE THE WORLD Novelist, poet, memoirist, writer of books about writing, winner of a Pulitzer Prize for editorial writing, and a current columnist for the Boston Globe, Murray has examined the craft of writing as deeply as anyone. He is considered—along with figures like Peter Elbow, James Moffett, and Ken Macrorie—one of the pioneers of the process writing movement, which clearly carves a place for writing as an act of exploration. In the early 1970s Murray established the freshman composition program at the University of New Hampshire and taught there for more than two decades. For Murray, writing is an intensely personal act. He has called the writer "ego-centric, obsessed with self" and insists to other writers, "You must write yourself" (1990, p. 34). Implicit in this charge is that the writer must write for himself or herself, finding topics that are personally authentic— "personal territories, our experiences and our obsessions" (Murray, 2002, p. 29). This is the explored material from which we learn. In his book Write to Learn, Murray (2002) expresses clearly his conception of writing and his conception of his discipline as an act of learning. Writing to Learn about a Theme Murray provides a profound shift away from the traditional focus of writing in schools. He does not attend directly to learning how to write, but more to using writing as a way to discover and examine other aspects of the world. The act of writing—inevitably an act of thinking—serves as a prompt into the writer's hidden past and obscured experiences and also into knew territories. "We write—and our readers read us—to bring order out of chaos," says Murray (2002, p. 91). "That is the reason that underlies every writing act. We don't know, so we write to know." Fundamentally, he posits, the writer is an explorer:

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Writers are the explorers society sends out to describe our public and private worlds. They use language to capture in words the not-yet-taught, the not-yetsaid. They make the unknown known through language; they make the unspoken heard through voice. They live at the far and close edges of our lives, revealing what others have not seen—or not understood—in the world around them and have not seen within them. (p. 97) Exploration leads to deep reflection and introspection: Writing is not what has been thunk, thought completed before the draft and transcribed to the page. Writing is thinking. As we think, our thoughts change. We use language to discover what we know, what it means, and how we feel about it. (p. 122) In this way, writing becomes not only an act of expression but also a perspective or visionary stance unto itself—a way of seeing that is unique to the members of its discipline. Writers, for instance, are obsessed with details, but they examine and use those details in ways that members of other disciplines do not. While both scientists and writers may "x-ray, analyze, and look for causes and effects, theories, patterns, [and] systems" (p. 227), the writers' vision offers unique interpretations of the details they accumulate. Notice how Murray reads an operating room in a much different way than a surgeon or scientist might, influenced by personal emotion and sensory aspects that might escape the objective eye of the clinician: The writer's eye gathers information, using all the senses—the way the overhead light glints off the surgeon's scalpel, the eyes that reveal so much—and so little— above the surgical masks, the smell of medicine and sterilizing steam, the brass taste of fear, the feeling of helplessness a patient experiences when lashed down on a surgical table, the comfort of the nurse's touch, (p. 98) These are the types of scenes the writer takes in—personal, sensory scenes that he or she must work long and hard to make sense of. Writing, to Murray, is not the simple expression of perfectly formed ideas but an act of cognition itself, which is convoluted, sometimes muddy, and almost always revealing. In essence, Murray turns the traditional role of the academic discipline inside out. If we were to employ writing as one of the disciplines in a transdisciplinary unit, its diagram would look different than the one above—the theme is now the focus and the discipline serves as a lens of discovery (Figure 7.2). Writing to Learn about Writing Murray emphasizes writing as an act of learning about the world. But any vision of transdisciplinarity does not negate the importance of learning the discipline itself and its concomitant subject matter. Obviously, one

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Figure 7.2 Using a Discipline as a Lens of Discovery

cannot use a discipline to investigate the world unless one knows how (or is learning how) to use the discipline. A critical component to a transdisciplinary paradigm is that, through its use in envisioning the theme, one also learns the features and uses of the discipline. This is the classic Deweyan construct of learning through doing. By writing to learn and to express one's learning, a writer is immersed in an authentic context for writing, which forces the writer to examine his or her craft continually in order to learn and express. In Write to Learn, Murray tackles this notion in different ways. He presents an extended list of what he "unlearned" about writing by actually writing. He refutes advice he has been given over the years: a writer needs to know what she wants to say before she says it, a good writer only needs one draft, and a good writer does not make mistakes, among others. His refutation of such rules indicates his awareness of the experimental nature of writing but also reveals his understanding of his craft as an extensive learning process, which has forced him to reconceive more traditional definitions of writing. For Murray, a newsman who had to meet deadlines for many years, the extended, authentic practice of the craft almost inevitably leads to improvement of the craft. The observant writer, so focused on details, eventually has to think about an audience, which forces him or her to examine how to express meaning clearly: "Specifics have to add up, to lead the reader toward a conclusion, to answer the tough question, 'So what? 7 " (p. 99). Although the writer may not always focus on the act of writing on a metacognitive level, learning how to shape the meaning that is revealed occurs after the writer has made personal discoveries and then must figure out how to best express those discoveries to others: The draft will reveal my subject and my reaction to that subject to myself. If I am lucky I will surprise myself by how much I know, think, and feel—and I will discover what I have to do to clarify and document that meaning so others can stand beside me and see my vision, (pp. 123-124)

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Figure 7.3 Using a Discipline to Learn the Discipline

Now we can begin to see the powerful dual nature of using writing to learn about a theme rather than using the theme to learn about writing: the writer is engaged in experiential learning in its truest sense, utilizing the tools and lenses provided by—and necessary to—the discipline for the authentic purposes for which they were intended. This is the Dewey an construct come to life. Through its practice, one learns the discipline more powerfully than when the subject is held up as the object to learn, as it is in many content-area classes. And in most cases, as an object it has been abstracted and decontextualized. Any true professional gains expertise through practice in authentic situations. My father, a surgeon, admits he is a much better doctor now than when he began his practice; he has doctored on a daily basis for 30 years and has learned in ways that are impossible through medical school lectures. He has learned about the world through the eyes and experiences of a doctor, and he has also learned more about being a doctor. In the same way, through its actual practice, writing serves the dual purpose of learning about the world and learning about writing. We can represent this Deweyan construct of experiential learning with another line on our figure (Figure 7.3). READING THE WORLD: EXPANDING LEARNING THROUGH THE PRACTICE OF MULTIPLE DISCIPLINES Another writer and teacher of writing, Donald Graves, has recently begun to write about exploring the world from a variety of perspectives beyond those of the writer. Graves's 1983 book, Writing: Teachers and Children at Work, is a seminal text in the field of literacy education. Through this book he became one of the first people to describe and analyze chil-

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dren who were in the act of writing rather than simply examining their finished products. Graves's findings revealed children going through extended and varied processes while writing (which include some now universally recognized components such as rehearsing, drafting, conferring, revising, and editing). His work helped introduce the moniker process writing to a much larger educational audience. Here I focus on Graves's 1999 book, Bring Life into Learning. It is not a book about writing or interdisciplinary studies, per se—in it he looks at the disciplines of writing, history, visual art, and science in distinctly separate chapters. However, as a writer, Graves has the particular and intense writerly engagement with the world that Murray describes: he, too, is a keen, consistent, compulsive observer. His observational stance as a writer—always looking and wondering—has compelled him to examine other scholarly and artistic disciplines as other ways of "reading the world" (Graves, 1994, p. 36). In Bring Life into Learning he has researched others who have identified their own disciplines as unique perspectives that focus and crystallize particular visions of the world. Graves exhorts educators and learners to slow down, use the curriculum to focus on people rather than pure material, and learn how to see the world from multiple but interrelated perspectives. He exemplifies his assertion when he quotes painter Georgia O'Keeffe: When I teach my main point is not to teach them to paint but to show them a way of seeing. When I teach art I teach it as the thing everyone has to use. There is art in the line of a jacket and in the shape of the collar as well as in the way one addresses a letter, combs one's hair or puts a window in a house. (Graves, 1999, p. 60) Throughout the book, Graves identifies members of different disciplines as having unique, personal perspectives toward any given phenomenon, which gives each a different understanding of it. While Graves sees commonalities in the way members of some disciplines see the world (painters, composers, writers, and scientists, for instance, "feast on details" [p. 58], he says), they all present ways of looking at phenomena from perspectives unique to their craft or profession. By identifying each discipline as a lens in this way, he arrives at the heart of transdisciplinary study. I analyzed the separate chapters of Graves's book to understand better how he defined the different ways of seeing inherent in each of the disciplines he introduces. History Reforming curriculum by bringing back a focus on people is a core theme of Bring Life into Learning, and Graves's two chapters on the study of his-

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tory focus on people particularly strongly. Claiming that history is often displayed as a panoramic view of the world, Graves suggests that good historians actually focus primarily on people—through characters, through individual lives—exploring the world through the eyes of others who have come before. He writes, "For a richer understanding of events and human passion we need eyewitness accounts. We need to view historical incidents within the context of real lives and real aspirations for self, family, and country" (1999, p. 35). The historian looks at the world as a biographer, seeing through individuals the characteristics and understandings of the greater events of the time. Good historians are also inveterate collectors of firsthand artifacts. Graves tells a story about historian and writer David McCullough, who, when he taught at Cornell, would give his students newspaper clippings, pieces of art, letters, diaries, and other artificats from a particular era so that they could see the age through its contemporary words and creations. Historians feast on stories told through primary resources. Art Artists are obsessed with details, as are members of many other disciplines. But, unlike social scientists (perhaps including historians), who use "inner speech (with words) as their dominant mode of cognitive representation" (Graves, 1999, p. 78), artists focus on the use of the senses—a nonverbal approach to learning. Through the exploration and utilization of vision, touch, and the other senses, the artist reads and represents the world in ways that may not always be articulated through words. Their work may go beyond words. Graves writes, in reference to sketching, "the hand helps the eye know a different universe" (p. 75). This important aspect leads to a completely different way of seeing. Graves, drawing on John-Steiner (1986, p. 86), writes, "Koestler, a novelist, and Arieti and Schactel, who write about creativity, point out that a reliance on verbal concepts alone 'may lead the scientist to a certain rigidity of thought [that] can interfere with the discovery process'" (Graves, 1999, p. 78). Art introduces a different way of seeing the same phenomena, which fills a void in the learner's conceptions and understandings of the world: "It is the blank page, the empty canvas, the workbench with tools and materials ready for work, the pottery wheel and lump of clay that require children to begin to see differently, to recognize a problem to be solved or an idea to be expressed Words are important but represent only one part of a thinker's inner language" (p. 79). Moreover, the artist looks at the world languidly, in an era where the pace of life (and other disciplinary work) is faster: "The artist slows the world down, simplifies it with exquisite choices, then brings us to meet different sides of ourselves in an object, melody, or line" (p. 58). Graves

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calls this "[e]legant thinking that is reflective of a different engagement with the universe" (p. 58). The use of art can help bring time—and the perspectives of the "long thinker" and the "slow thinker" (Graves, 2002)— back into the curriculum, affording the learner the opportunity to see more deeply and holistically, rather than just identifying quick surface attributes. Science Scientists view the world through how it changes physically over time, recording through time the data that detect those changes: whether our subject is biology, chemistry, physics, or geology, we enter the disciplines that attempt to explain the shifts in our universe, from black holes to tectonic plates, from animal scat to the lessening light and its effect on leaves (Graves, 1999, p. 90). Because change is sometimes slow, in order to determine accurate patterns in phenomenological data, scientific research often has to be long term. In this conception of the scientist's vision—his or her way of reading the world—the scientist sees physical movement, sometimes fast, sometimes centuries slow, in a way that the artist or historian may not. Graves forms conceptions of how members of these three general disciplines may see the world in ways that are sometimes similar and oftentimes not. Although he discusses only three general disciplines, it is clear that he, or one of us, might analyze any other discipline to identify its members' unique way of seeing the discipline illuminate new dimensions of a phenomenon. Graves discusses Einstein taking an artistically visual approach in meditating over Maxwell's theorem by imagining someone riding a wave of light. Graves considers this a classic example of the value of this transdisciplinarity, where a member of one discipline benefits from approaching his or her problem from another perspective. Through multiple ways of seeing, a phenomenon becomes multidimensional —shapelier, richer, more comprehensible, more complete. The seer can imagine new possibilities as to how it affects and is affected by the greater scheme of the world. Thus, our model of a good transdisciplinary approach now takes deeper dimensions (Figure 7.4). IMPLICATIONS FOR IMPLEMENTING A NEW TRANSDISCIPLINARY UNIT The works of writers Murray and Graves suggest a number of changes that may need to occur if the transdisciplinary unit is to increase in value: 1. Because students can devote quality effort only to those aspects of life or the world in which they currently have an active interest—about which they can

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Figure 7.4 A Transdisciplinary Model of Learning

ask personally authentic questions—they must be able to choose, or participate in choosing, the theme. Integrated units may fail if a teacher or outside committee chooses the topic according to criteria that do not take into account the relevance to learners. This suggests that different students in the same class may work on different interdisciplinary projects at the same time, according to their specific areas of interest. 2. Because the main focus of an integrated project is now on discovering answers to questions that have arisen out of the theme, the first objective of academic activities will not be to learn about content specific material. Instead, activities will consist of those that are performed as part of a discipline member's authentic daily practice. The student as scientist will not study formulas in the abstract but will use scientific methodologies and engage in experimentation to answer

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the thematic questions at hand. The student as mathematician will not study equations in the abstract but will use mathematical problem solving in the authentic context of finding answers to those questions. Student writers will actually write to discover. Student historians will engage in historical research. Student philosophers will philosophize. While students uncover answers to the questions through their work, the Dewey an ideal of learning about the subject by actually using it will prevail. 3. Since the transdisciplinary unit focuses on answering questions about the theme rather than on particular subject matter, it is possible that not every discipline will be introduced into the unit: only the disciplines that provide lenses that legitimately help learners answer the specific questions posed should be included. If teachers and students want to ensure that all disciplines are included, they must create questions that require all the unique lenses provided by each discipline. 4. Since reading the world through different disciplines requires greater amounts of time (as seen in Graves's assertions that artists need to be "long" and "slow" thinkers and that scientists need time to identify or recognize changes imperceptible in the short term), transdisciplinary units may often have to be much longer and slower than the traditional unit of study. A two-week or even monthlong unit may lead to only superficial understandings of the theme. Perhaps some units need to take half a year, a full year... or maybe longer. RESHAPING THE INTERDISCIPLINARY UNIT INTO A TRANSDISCIPLINARY UNIT How might these changes play out during the actual creation of a transdisciplinary unit? We can the question within the context of the Flight unit in Jacobs's chapter. To begin, the success of the unit will depend upon students' abilities to use the multiple ways of seeing afforded by the different disciplines. It therefore also depends on their understanding of how the different disciplines actually do see. This requires work prior to the creation of any given integrated unit. Students and teachers need time to explore the questions "How does a writer see the world? A historian? A scientist? An artist? A mathematician? A philosopher?" Gaining these understandings, of course, requires deep attention to the unique features of each craft or discipline, which may be defined as an integrated study unit in and of itself. By examining these questions early, the investigators not only learn basic features of each discipline but also help determine which lenses, which ways of seeing, might best illuminate the answers to the questions the investigators eventually pose. Students may not see all the possibilities inherent in the learning through particular subject areas, so teachers—as more experienced learners—have the responsibility to scaffold their instruction, providing needed information as necessary. Next, both students and teachers would select an organizing center (step 1) for the unit. While the teacher's agenda is important to the

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makeup of any unit, it would be inconceivable for the teacher to determine the unit theme without collaboration with students and a clear understanding of what the students' interests, strengths, and needs are. We can imagine the theme of Flight emerging out of a rich dialogue among students and teachers, in which students clearly articulate their knowledge and interests and teachers bring to the table their expectations, goals, and personal understandings. Through this discussion, all or several of the students might articulate a clear interest in flight and probably indicate some rudimentary knowledge or suppositions about flight. During these negotiations, however, different groups of students with different interests and questions might break away and form their own units: while one group decides to study Flight, another group might choose The Harlem Renaissance as their theme, and still other groups may find completely different themes. Next, because each discipline must serve to answer questions arising from the theme—rather than the theme defining activities that focus on learning the discipline—each group must establish guiding questions (formerly step 3) before anyone decides what specific subject material will be covered for each discipline (formerly step 2). Investigators cannot possibly know what they need to study until they know what they want to ask. I envision the investigators creating questions as a whole class (or unit group) through some kind of K-W-L activity (Ogle, 1986): They first document their answers to the question, "What do we already know (or think we know) about flight?" They then record answers to the question, "What do we want to learn?" The questions arising from this activity will have the legitimacy of emerging through the very real interests of the students and not solely through the agenda of the teacher. The teacher does not give up total control but listens carefully to students to determine areas of strength, areas of true student investment, and gaps in student knowledge that must be filled in order to answer subsequent questions. Questions that arise out of this work may be different than the examples provided in Jacobs's chapter. I would suggest, for instance, that the question "What flies?" would seem superficial to most students, even when one acknowledges the added cleverness of playing on the different uses of the word fly, as in time flying, or runaways in flight (Jacobs, 1989, p. 59). The other questions—how and why things in nature fly, what impact flight has had on humans, and what the future of flight is—certainly might arise. Others from an infinite list of possibilities might include "How did people learn how to fly?" or "How can we make something that flies?" Once participants determine the questions, they next determine the best way to answer them. Their new understanding of the different ways of seeing afforded by the various disciplines will help them to decide which disciplines will truly aid them in answering the questions. This is essential:

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each discipline must have an authentic purpose—the potential to provide legitimate answers to the posed questions via its practice. The class will not necessarily include every subject area in the investigation. If a discipline is forced into the unit simply to introduce its specific subject matter for investigation, it will be imminently less valuable than if it is used as a lens to look at the real questions in new ways. As students and teachers revisit the ways members of different disciplines think, they also ask which ways of seeing will lead them toward answering their questions and which will not. Only once this has all occurred will investigators begin to create activities. Because the activities' primary focus is on answering the questions rather than on covering the specific subject matter, their shape and tenor will often be different. For instance, participating in the Flight unit in the role of the writer (one of the many roles I would assume), I may approach the question "How and why do things in nature fly?" with the writer's compulsiveness for detail. I may chronicle the particular sights and sounds of flight and how they influence me as an individual. I may observe something important that a scientist, mathematician, or historian may not see, like that particular, almost imperceptible straining of a great blue heron's neck right before the first tremendous, smacking flap that signals an excruciatingly slow and graceful ascent. Perhaps I'll tune in to the change in a jet engine's scream right before the plane begins to move forward. These writerly observations and the subsequent pondering they promote may offer the author unique insight into how and why things in nature fly. This insight may be completely different than that gained by a member of a different discipline observing the same phenomena (or it may be closely related). When these multiple perspectives interweave, though, we begin to learn about flight better than we ever have. We also learn how to tackle questions and think better than we ever have. .

CONCLUSION I am a writer, a teacher of writing, and a teacher of literacy education. I think the way that Murray and Graves say a writer thinks: I constantly observe. I am starved for unique and specific details. I constantly hypothesize how I can express to others the meaning I have made from my experiences. My particular stance toward the world has influenced who my influences are. Although my writerly prejudices may narrow my perspective about what is and is not valuable in education, I believe that the writer's ways of looking at the world hold, in general, crucial insights for members of all other disciplines. This is so because the writer emphasizes (1) observing, or looking at things deeply, and (2) thinking. These acts are transferrable into use in any discipline, each with its unique ways of

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observing and thinking, and these are the acts that drive the effective transdisciplinary unit. Disciplines supply us with views from varied perspectives. Subject matter moves away from the center of the curriculum but still plays an essential role, providing the landscape that we observe and the material from which our questions arise. When we redefine these elements of the curriculum, we radically transform it. In the true transdisciplinary unit, when the different ways of seeing the world are enacted and merged, our activity yields a much richer and more complete portrait. When we focus on a theme through the lens of one individual discipline, we see a single dimension. A good transdisciplinary unit offers a multidimensional view. Moreover, these different perspectives also challenge one another, forcing investigators to interact with the theme in unfamiliar ways. Different facets, hidden curves, and surprising textures reveal themselves in ways invisible to the static reader of the world, who never wavers from a straight-ahead gaze. An appropriate analogy is that of the difference between two people experiencing a sculpture. The man staring at the sculpture at a distance of ten feet, never leaving his spot and never changing his gaze, is akin to the student viewing a theme using a single-discipline approach. He will learn something, to be sure, but his understanding of the sculpture and what it might represent on a greater, deeper scale is lost to him. On the other hand, the art lover who does many things—who looks at the sculpture from different distances and angles, who touches it to feel its texture and temperature, who learns why it was built and what it represented to people at its creation, who learns how its representation has changed over time, who learns about the medium of stone and the craft of stone carving, all in order to really know the statue—is engaging in an act of transdisciplinary learning. Although I observe and think like a writer, I will be better for learning to observe and think like others, too. REFERENCES Graves, D. (1983). Writing: Teachers and children at work. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Graves, D. (1994). Afresh look at writing. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Graves, D. (1999). Bring life into learning: Create a lasting literacy. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Graves, D. (2002). Testing is not teaching: What should count in education. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Jacobs, H.H. (1989). Interdisciplinary curriculum: Design and implementation. Alexandria, VA: ASCD. John-Steiner, V. (1986). Notebooks of the mind: Explorations of thinking. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press.

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Meeth, L. R. (1978). Interdisciplinary studies: A matter of definition. Change, 10, p. 10. Murray, D.M. (1990). Shoptalk. Portsmouth, NH: Boynton/Cook-Heinemann. Murray, D.M. (2002). Write to learn (7th ed.). Fort Worth: Harcourt College Publishers. Ogle, D. (1986). K-W-L: A teaching model that develops active reading of expository text. The Reading Teacher, 39, pp. 564-570.

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Chapter 8

Transdisciplinary Approaches in the Education of ELLs Mileidis Gort

The number of English language learners (ELLs) entering U.S. schools continues to increase, as do the variations in their academic background and skills. In 1968, the Bilingual Education Act (also known as Title VII of the Elementary and Secondary Education Act of 1965) originated with the specific purpose of assisting public local education agencies in setting up bilingual programs for low-income, non-English-speaking students throughout the United States. Through this act, bilingual education was introduced as a federal policy "to provide financial assistance to local educational agencies to carry out new and imaginative elementary and secondary school programs" to meet the special educational needs of "children who are educationally disadvantaged because of their inability to speak English" (Bilingual Education Act, 1968, sec. 702). Until 1990, however, the majority of all bilingual education programs that had been designed, funded, and implemented focused on the elementary school-age child, in part due to the very definition of bilingual education issued by the federal government as a program that favors a transitional primary school focus (Faltis & Arias, 1993). Because the majority of ELLs were presumably in the primary grades and native language instruction was perceived as a temporary bridge to learning English, there was little perceived need to continue using the native language for instructional purposes in secondary school settings. EDUCATING ELLS AT THE SECONDARY SCHOOL LEVEL One of the most significant changes to occur in U.S. schools since the debut of the Bilingual Education Act is the increase in the number of sec-

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ondary school-age students (ages 11-19) in need of special English-language and content-area instruction (Faltis & Arias, 1993). Based on a legislative history outlining the schools' responsibility to address language barriers for ELLs, schools identify and serve students expressly in terms of their English language fluency and language group. Yet, the student population of ELLs at the secondary school level presents a complex array of academic and other needs that go far beyond language. It is the combination of these factors that presents such a challenge to secondary schools. By definition, ELLs (or limited English-proficient students, as they are often referred to in schools) are not fluent in English. However, this population brings a wide range of English language fluency and prior academic preparation to the secondary classroom. This diversity is an important consideration because secondary school courses are based on assumptions about basic literacy skill levels and prior academic backgrounds. With regard to prior academic background, secondary ELLs tend to fall into one of three broad and often overlapping categories (Minicucci & Olsen, 1992). The first group includes recent immigrants who received excellent, continuous schooling prior to immigrating to the United States. Their strong academic background in many ways prepares these students well to learn and achieve in U.S. schools. Still, their academic preparation may contrast with local- and state-based systems in this country; these students may have experienced differences in curriculum content and sequence, teaching pedagogy, and emphasized skills. In addition, academic gaps may exist in areas such as literature, history, and social studies. Such gaps, compounded by the students' limited knowledge of the English language, can create a difficult transition to our form of schooling and valued knowledge base. The second category of ELLs includes those entering secondary schools following their education in U.S. elementary schools. These adolescents either were born in the United States or were young immigrants to this country who entered elementary school speaking a primary language other than English. They may have been schooled bilingually or through English only and thus possess varying levels of English fluency (including oral and written proficiency) and academic content knowledge. They may also have limited oral and literacy proficiency in their primary language due to the transitional focus of bilingual schooling experiences in the United States. Lastly, an increasing number of students with little or no prior schooling and little or no basic literacy in their native language forms the third category of ELLs in secondary schools. These students tend to come from rural, impoverished, or war-devastated regions of the world. As newcomers not only to U.S. schools but to schooling in general, these students require much more than basic language and literacy instruction. They come unprepared not only in English but also in content knowledge, basic

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study skills, and knowledge of school culture. Addressing these ELLs' needs requires approaches to developing basic literacy in an accelerated fashion and designing instructional programs to fill the gaps in academic content. Providing effective schooling for these students is particularly challenging at the secondary level, when students are expected to possess a wealth of implicit and explicit knowledge about how to be a student. ACCOMPLISHMENTS IN THE EDUCATION OF SECONDARY ELLS The structural rigidity of departmentalized secondary schools is particularly unsuited to meeting the educational needs of ELLs. As described above, these students enter school at different ages with varying levels of English language ability, previous schooling, and native language literacy. Secondary-level ELLs, thus, are extremely diverse, bringing with them educational, social, academic, and cultural experiences that may differ widely from those of members of the mainstream culture. To address the wide range of abilities that these students represent, secondary schools need to have the flexibility to change schedules and programs to meet ELLs' needs. A growing collection of literature has emerged to focus on effective schools and teaching environments for secondary ELLs (see Constantino & Lavadenz, 1993; Faltis, 1993a; Faltis & Arias, 1993; Garcia, 1988; Henze & Lucas, 1993; Lucas, 1993; Lucas & Henze, 1992; Lucas, Henze, & Donato, 1990; Minicucci & Olsen, 1992). This literature points out that some secondary schools and teachers are noticeably more effective at promoting the success of ELLs than others. Whereas some features of effective schools and good teaching are common to all learning contexts, particular aspects have been identified as important for enabling secondary ELLs to benefit from school. One of these features includes a move away from viewing bilingual education as a program apart from other schooling efforts. Instead, the schools most effective in empowering ELLs have found ways to restructure policies and practices to integrate bilingual education in all aspects of the school community: these schools have knowledgeable and caring teachers, teacher-aides, and other staff; and they promote an accepting and inviting social climate. Effective secondary schools with high numbers of ELLs typically make certain that these students are provided with ample and appropriate opportunities to develop their native language and English proficiency. In these schools, ELLs are assured of having full access to the curriculum and benefiting from a range of academic courses such as science, mathematics, social studies, the arts, and literature, not only in their native language but also in English. Although there are no simple formulas for what works in all contexts, the literature on effective schools for ELLs identifies a number of features

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that appear to cut across many different social and ethnolinguistic contexts. Features of secondary schools that successfully promote the achievement of ELLs are presented in the next section. LESSONS FROM EFFECTIVE SECONDARY BILINGUAL A N D ESL PROGRAMS In designing an instructional plan to enhance the academic experiences of seventh-grade bilingual Latino students in northern California, Garcia (1988) identified 15 principles synthesized from research on what attributes make schools effective in bilingual education of Latino students. Several of these principles reflect a relationship between the students' level of linguistic and cultural diversity and the need to address certain schoolwide concerns. Specifically, the more linguistically and culturally diverse the students are, (1) the more the content should be related to the students' everyday lives; (2) the more important it is to offer students opportunities to apply what they are learning in a meaningful context; (3) the more integrated the curriculum should be; and (4) the greater the variety of teaching and learning strategies should be, with multiple opportunities to learn from peers, teachers, and other adult staff. In addition, Garcia's review of the literature on effective schooling for Latino students found that school restructuring for language minority students, including ELLs, must address all aspects of learning, including social rules of behavior and self-esteem. Garcia and his team of researchers and teachers then translated these principles into strategies for enhancing reading, writing, and mathematics achievement and academic self-worth. These strategies led to a reorganization of the seventh-grade curriculum and schedule for the students involved, yielding an interdisciplinary, collaborative curriculum called Project THEME. Project THEME strategies included the use of (1) thematic, integrated curriculum and teaching across the content areas; (2) small-group activities with heterogeneous language grouping and peer tutoring; (3) interactive journals, literature study groups, silent reading, small-group discussion, and literature and mathematics logs; (4) cooperative learning strategies; and (5) a focus on activities that foster equal-status interactions (including gender, language, and cultural diversity issues). Lucas, Henze, and Donato (1990) gathered information from six secondary schools (organized around grades 9-12) recognized as effective by local, state, and federal agencies for their successful whole-school approach to providing a quality education for ELLs. Quantitative evidence for these schools' success included low dropout rates, high daily student attendance, and high scores on standardized tests. Students in these schools were predominantly Latino students; most students were recent immigrants, having arrived in the United States between the ages

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of 14 and 18. Lucas et al. identified eight major features that appear to play a significant role in promoting the success of ELLs. 1. The school, curriculum, and staff place high value on students' languages and cultures. 2. The school places concrete, high expectations on ELLs and often recognizes their achievements publicly. 3. The administration seeks out and provides strong leadership for the instruction of ELLs by remaining current in research and promising practices in secondary bilingual education. 4. Staff development is explicitly designed to help all teachers and staff serve ELLs more effectively 5. A variety of courses and programs of instruction for ELLs are offered, both in their native language and in English. These courses are taught by teachers who are trained in secondary bilingual and English as a Second Language (ESL) methodology. 6. Counseling services are designed specifically for the language and cultural diversity of the ELLs. 7. The school actively encourages and helps parents of ELLs to become involved in children's education at home and at school. 8. All school staff members share a strong commitment to empowering ELLs through successful education. Other studies on effective schooling for ELLs focus on secondary teachers' roles in promoting success for ELLs in the classroom. This body of research paints a complex picture of what good teaching is in classrooms in which the majority or all of the students are ELLs. Generally, we know that effective secondary bilingual teachers differ from English-only secondary teachers who are effective with ELLs in that the bilingual teachers are proficient in two languages and are able to use both languages to deliver effective instruction in their content area(s). However, bilingual and English-only teachers who are effective with ELLs share two other aspects that are generally absent in good mainstream classrooms: (1) "the skillful integration of students' work at mixed levels of linguistic and conceptual complexity," and (2) "knowledge of the rules of appropriate behavior of at least two ethnic groups and the ability to incorporate this knowledge into the teaching process" (Faltis & Merino, 1992, p. 278). In addition to these general abilities, Henze & Lucas (1993) identified specific teacher practices in context that exemplify broader objectives for the teaching of ELLs. They found that successful secondary classrooms and effective secondary teachers promote language and content development in English and the students' native languages by weaving multiple uses of language and literacy into content language lessons and by making content relevant to students' lives. In addition, effective teachers of

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ELLs at the secondary level use and encourage the use of authentic language in both oral and written discourse by focusing on meaning more than structure (Constantino & Lavadenz, 1993). One of the most important instructional innovations associated almost exclusively with effective secondary bilingual education is the development of sheltered content teaching. This interdisciplinary instructional approach and its derivatives are described in detail in the next section.

INTERDISCIPLINARY NATURE OF THE BILINGUAL EDUCATION/ESL CURRICULUM: INTEGRATING LANGUAGE A N D CONTENT LEARNING Sheltered Instruction or Specially Designed Academic Instruction in English In the early 1980s, Krashen introduced sheltered content teaching, a methodology for combining language acquisition strategies with content-area instruction through language-sensitive teaching. Sheltered content classes are designed to teach ELLs the same concepts and skills covered in the standard curriculum, or mainstream, classroom while also promoting English language development. Teachers in these programs have certification in the content area being taught (science, mathematics, history, literature, etc.) as well as specialized training (preservice or inservice) in instructional strategies designed to meet the linguistic and cultural needs of ELLs. The primary goal of sheltered instruction is to teach core gradelevel academic subject matter and its associated vocabulary, concepts, and skills to ELLs using comprehensible language and context, enabling information to be understood by the learner. The primary emphases of this instructional approach include understanding critical vocabulary and acquiring the concepts and skills needed to comprehend the primary focus of the content in a particular lesson. Thus, two characteristics distinguish sheltered content teaching from both mainstream content area and traditional ESL instruction. First, classes are composed of ELLs only; and second, teachers attempt to make their language comprehensible so that all students can participate in the class activities regardless of their English abilities. The term sheltered indicates that such instruction provides refuge from the linguistic demands of mainstream instruction, which is beyond the comprehension of ELLs. Thus, sheltered content instruction functions as a support until the student is ready for mainstream classes. Throughout the eastern United States, the term English as a Second Language content or content ESL is most often used for this type of program, whereas the West Coast, especially California, uses the terms sheltered instruction and Specially Designed Academic Instruction in English, or SDAIE (California State Department of Education, 1994). Sheltered content teach-

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ing works well with secondary ELLs because it provides access to gradeappropriate, cognitively demanding core curriculum for ELLs who have achieved an intermediate or advanced level of English language proficiency, while at the same time promoting English language development and opportunities for social integration. The approach integrates natural features of second language acquisition, including comprehensible input, natural interaction with peers and teachers, and the negotiation of meaning, with direct content instruction. Making content comprehensible involves reexamining our assumptions about what constitutes comprehensible language and known information. Instead of depending heavily on oral and written language to convey information to students, effective sheltered content teachers build more diverse media into their teaching (Short, 1991) by using modified texts and assignments; more visual material, including graphic organizers, pictures, exhibits, and demonstrations; more dramatization; more hands-on activities; and paraverbal, paralinguistic, and sensory cues (Faltis, 1993b). Furthermore, effective sheltered content teachers alternate between whole-class and small-group activities, tailoring their requests for student input to the language abilities of the students and frequently checking for comprehension during interactional exchanges. Reducing the cognitive load on students who are simultaneously mastering new content and a new language makes the new material comprehensible. Whereas sheltered content instruction utilizes and complements sound instructional methods and strategies recommended for both bilingual/ESL and mainstream classes, a number of features make sheltered instruction more than just good teaching. Some of those unique features include adapting academic content to the students' level of English language proficiency; using supplementary materials to a high degree; emphasizing key vocabulary; using speech that makes information comprehensible to students, including sufficient wait time; developing clear language objectives for each lesson; integrating students' background and experiences; and emphasizing language development (Echevarria & Graves, 2003). Minicucci (1993) discusses two models of ideal sheltered content instruction based on Krashen's (1985) original conception of sheltered content teaching. The first model defines sheltered instruction as grade-level content instruction in English designed for ELLs who have reached an intermediate level of English proficiency. This model is not a stand-alone program but rather part of a comprehensive program that is combined with primary language instruction at the secondary level. The students should have threshold levels of native language literacy and English literacy to benefit from ideal sheltered instruction. In the second model, sheltered instruction is used to teach certain content for ELLs with intermediate levels of oral English proficiency while also providing students with native language

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support in other classes. Unfortunately, native language classes and instructional support are not always feasible due to the lack of qualified teachers and curriculum materials or to low numbers of students from the same native language group in a school or bilingual program. Derivatives of Sheltered Instruction: SIOP and CALLA A model of sheltered instruction, Sheltered Instruction Observation Protocol or SIOP (Echevarria, Vogt, & Short, 2000), was developed to provide a way for teachers to systematically implement instructional features for improving the academic achievement of ELLs. The SIOP model was created to help preservice teachers develop a strong foundation in sheltered instruction, to assist practicing teachers in strengthening their lesson planning and delivery, and to provide students with more consistent instruction. The SIOP has also proved to be a valuable instrument for providing feedback to teachers and focusing their self-reflection. In addition, site-based supervisors can use the SIOP to train and evaluate teachers. The model provides a framework for selecting and organizing effective techniques and strategies, and it facilitates the integration of district- or statelevel standards for ESL and for specific content areas. The SIOP, a research-based, professional development model of sheltered content instruction (Echevarria, Vogt, & Short, 2000), is grounded in the professional literature and in the experiences and best practices of the researchers and participating teachers who collaborated to develop the observation instrument that codifies the SIOP. The theoretical underpinning of the model is that language acquisition is enhanced through meaningful use and interaction. Through the study of content, students interact in English with meaningful material that is relevant to their schooling. SIOP lessons incorporate activities that integrate the language processes of listening, speaking, reading, and writing as the skills develop interdependently. The SIOP is designed for flexibility and tested in a wide range of classroom situations, including those with ELLs only and those with a mix of native and non-native English speakers; classrooms with students who have strong academic backgrounds and those with students who have had limited formal schooling; classrooms with students at different levels of English proficiency (i.e., beginning, intermediate, advanced); and classrooms with students who are recent arrivals and those who have been in U.S. schools for several years. The SIOP provides concrete examples of the features of sheltered instruction that can enhance teachers' instructional practice. Thirty items, grouped into three main sections (i.e., Preparation, Instruction, and Review/Assessment), make up the protocol. The first section, Preparation, examines the lesson planning process, including the language and content objectives, the use of supplementary materials, and the meaningfulness of the activities. The Instruction section, subdivided into the six

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categories of building background, comprehensible input, strategies, interaction, practice/application, and lesson delivery, contain 20 items that emphasize instructional practices critical for ELLs. Among these are practices such as making connections with students' background experiences and prior learning, adjusting teacher speech, emphasizing vocabulary development, using multimodal techniques, promoting higher-order thinking skills, grouping students appropriately for language and content development, and providing hands-on materials. Items in the Review/Assessment section consider whether the teacher reviewed key vocabulary and content concepts, assessed student learning, and provided feedback to students on their performance. Items are scored using a Likert scale with scores ranging from 4 to 0. It is not expected that each item would be present in every daily lesson, but effective teachers who use sheltered content instruction are expected to address each item several times over the course of a week. One of the most widely accepted methods for teaching learning strategies to ELLs is the Cognitive Academic Language Learning Approach, or CALLA (Chamot & O'Malley, 1987; 1994). CALLA is an instructional model for content and language learning that makes extensive use of learning strategies as it prepares ELLs for content-area instruction in allEnglish classrooms. Through CALLA, teachers explicitly teach learning strategies while also developing students' language and content knowledge. CALLA is designed to meet the academic and cognitive needs of ELLs in upper elementary and secondary schools at intermediate and advanced levels of ESL. Students need to have at least a basic level of proficiency in the language of instruction (English) to benefit from the conscious focus on learning strategies. Like SDAIE, CALLA does not simplify the curriculum; rather it presents cognitively demanding activities at ELLs' developmental level: A common reaction to the less-than-fluent English of a student is to teach content from a lower grade level and to expect from LEP [limited English-proficient] students only lower-level cognitive skills such as simple recall. CALLA demands the opposite. LEP students need to learn content appropriate to their developmental level and previous educational experience; higher-level thinking skills are as much to be expected from them as from any other student. Instead of watering down content for LEP students, CALLA teachers make challenging content comprehensible by providing additional contextual support in the form of demonstrations, visuals, and hands-on experiences, and by teaching students how to apply learning strategies to understand and remember the content presented. When asking LEP students higher-order questions, CALLA teachers evaluate responses on the basis of the ideas expressed rather than on the correctness of the language used. (O'Malley & Chamot, 1990, p. 194) Learning strategies taught through CALLA provide extra support for the negotiation of content-area instruction in the second language. By

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developing the habit of using learning strategies, the students have transferable skills that remain with them as they progress to higher levels of academic instruction in the content areas. Because of their accessibility through physical representations, math and science are the recommended gateway courses into CALLA, followed by CALLA instruction in social studies and language arts (Chamot & O'Malley, 1994). Three types of learning strategies are incorporated in the CALLA method, including (1) metacognitive strategies (i.e., advance organization, organizational planning, selective attention, self-management, monitoring comprehension, monitoring production, self-evaluation); (2) cognitive strategies (i.e., resourcing, grouping, note-taking, elaboration of prior knowledge, summarizing, deduction/induction, imagery, auditory representation, making inferences); and (3) social/affective strategies (i.e., questioning for clarification, cooperation, self-talk) (Chamot & O'Malley, 1994). Through carefully designed lesson plans tied to the content curriculum, teachers explicitly teach the learning strategies and have students apply them in instructional tasks. These plans are based on the following propositions: 1. 2. 3. 4.

Mentally active learners are better learners. Strategies can be taught. Learning strategies transfer to new tasks. Academic language learning is more effective with learning strategies (O'Malley & Chamot, 1990, p. 196).

The CALLA model has been incorporated into several commercially available math and science ESL materials for middle and high school students, such as those by Chamot and O'Malley (1988), Christison and Bassano (1992), and Johnston and Johnston (1990). TRANSDISCIPLINARY APPROACHES THROUGH BILINGUAL MULTICULTURAL EDUCATION: INSIGHTS FROM ETHNOMATHEMATICAL A N D ETHNOSCIENTIFIC PERSPECTIVES As the research on effective schools and teaching environments for secondary ELLs points out, approaches to schooling that value linguistic and cultural diversity and that promote cultural pluralism are key features that promote the success of language minority students. When students' languages, cultures, experiences, and interests are incorporated into school programs as part of the effort to create a context in which all students feel valuable and capable of academic success, students achieve academically and develop positive self-esteem. Students' interest in learning and willingness to learn depends to a large extent on how relevant the

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material is to their own lives. Too often the curriculum and accompanying course materials assume (or place more value on) certain kinds of knowledge that are cultural. Multicultural education, an alternative and less ethnocentric lens with which to focus on people and how they interact with one another and with nature, can positively influence subject areas, pedagogy, and school structure by offering multiple perspectives through which to construct knowledge and develop critical thinking. In bilingual, ESL, and mainstream classrooms, bilingual/bicultural students and teachers can serve as cross-cultural informants for all students in the same school as they all learn to view issues from multiple perspectives. As bilingual and ESL teachers collaborate with other teachers, they may bring their multicultural experience to bear on course content and instructional strategies. Teaching across cultures requires taking into account cultural differences and considering how they affect concept development. One way to develop a multicultural and transdisciplinary perspective to teaching and learning is through ethnoknowledge, including ethnomathematics and ethnoscience. As reflections of logical processes and verified facts, mathematics and science have universal currency. But as instruments of cultural and social content, they also carry with them all the richness, creativity, and variety associated with such systems. Ethnomathematics and ethnoscience enable us to see mathematical and scientific systems within their rich cultural contexts. Ethnomathematics, as defined by Borba (1990), refers to mathematical knowledge expressed in the language code of a given sociocultural group. It includes "the mathematical ideas of peoples, manifested in written or non-written, oral or non-oral forms, many of which have been either ignored or otherwise distorted by conventional histories of mathematics" (Powell & Frankenstein, 1997, p. 9). Ethnoscience, as described by Kessler and Quinn (1987), refers to "theories and procedures for learning about the physical world that have evolved informally within cultures to explain and predict natural phenomena" (p. 61). The infusion of ethnomathematical and ethnoscientific perspectives into content area and language instruction is one way in which we can affirm the diversity and develop the multicultural literacies of bilingual/bicultural students. POTENTIAL ROLE OF ETHNOMATHEMATICS, ETHNOSCIENCE, A N D ETHNOLITERACIES IN TRANSDISCIPLINARY WORK: DEVELOPING MULTICULTURAL LITERACIES IN THE SECONDARY BILINGUAL/ESL CLASSROOM Our understanding of the scope of math, science, social studies, and literacy development has been biased by the traditional curricular focus on

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Western mathematicians, scientists, and historians who recorded and published their findings. When we open math, science, and other ways of knowing to a broader definition of knowledge, we find fascinating perspectives on the development of knowledge throughout the world. For example, Native American Cree and Ojibway people traditionally classify plants and animals according to function and use (Kessler & Quinn, 1987). Formal (Western) science classifies them according to structure. While children universally carry out the process of classification, the system of classification made available to them is entirely arbitrary. The classification systems of ethnoscience and Western science in this case are both valid and involve an underlying cognitive process of classification; they are just different. Teaching that applies mathematics, science, social studies, and literacy concepts to cultural phenomena or that uses examples drawn from disparate cultural backgrounds to illustrate content-area objectives is intellectually stimulating for both the teacher and the students. Ethnomathematical and ethnoscientific knowledge helps children see that humans throughout the world and throughout history have been observing, documenting, and making conclusions about the natural world. Math, science, social studies, and literacy, when studied from multicultural, transdisciplinary perspectives, legitimize all students' experiences, including those of bilingual/bicultural students; strengthen their sociocultural roots; and promote cross-cultural understanding and ways of looking at the world. The ideas promoted by multicultural, transdisciplinary perspectives to teaching and learning indicate that simply substituting some content for other content cannot easily change curricula. It is necessary to consider more fundamental kinds of change. Building a new view of mathematics, science, social studies, and literacy can be achieved through thematization, an approach in which students and teachers together decide the themes and projects to be developed. Themes are not necessarily mathematical or scientific because they will likely not match the academic disciplines closely. The themes simply represent research to be undertaken by the group, where teachers help students develop a critical view of the world, called transitive consciousness (Freire, 1985). In this way, education for bilingual students at all stages of the English language acquisition process will become the practice of freedom, as it provides students with valuable opportunities to deal critically with reality and discover how to participate in the transformation of their world. REFERENCES Bilingual Education Act of 1968, Pub. L. No. 90-247, § 702 (1968). Borba, M.C. (1990). Ethnomathematics and education. For the Learning of Mathematics, 10(1), pp. 39-43.

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California State Department of Education. (1994). Building bilingual instruction: Putting the pieces together. Sacramento, CA: Bilingual Education Office. Chamot, A.U., & O'Malley, J.M. (1987). The cognitive academic language learning approach: A bridge to the mainstream. TESOL Quarterly, 21(2), pp. 227-249. Chamot, A.U., & O'Malley, J.M. (1988). Language development through content: A mathematics book. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley. Chamot, A. U., & O'Malley, J. M. (1994). The CALLA handbook: Implementing the Cognitive Academic Language Learning Approach. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley. Christison, M. A., & Bassano, S. (1992). Earth and physical science: Content and learning strategies. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley. Constantino, R., & Lavadenz, M. (1993). Newcomer schools: Models or myths. Peabody Journal of Education, 69(1), pp. 82-101. Echevarria, J., & Graves, A. (2003). Sheltered content instruction: Teaching English-language learners with diverse abilities (2nd ed.). Boston: Allyn & Bacon. Echevarria, J., Vogt, M., & Short, D. (2000). Making content comprehensible for English language learners: The SIOP model. Boston, Allyn & Bacon. Faltis, C.J. (1993a). From kindergarten to high school: Teaching and learning English as a second language in U.S. public schools. In S. Silberstein (Ed.), State of the art TESOL essays (pp. 91-114). Alexandria, VA: TESOL. Faltis, C.J. (1993b). Joinfostering: Adapting teaching strategies for the multilingual classroom. Columbus, OH: Merrill. Faltis, C.J., & Arias, M.B. (1993). Speakers of languages other than English in the secondary school: Accomplishments and struggles. Peabody Journal of Education, 69(1), pp. 6-29. Faltis, C. J., & Merino, B. (1992). Toward a definition of exemplary teachers in bilingual multicultural school settings. In R. Padilla & A. Benavides (Eds.), Critical perspectives in bilingual education research (pp. 277-299). Tempe, AZ: Bilingual Press. Freire, P. (1985). The politics of education: Culture, power, and liberation. New York: Bergin & Garvey. Garcia, E. (1988). Attributes of effective schools for language minority students. Education and Urban Society, 20(4), pp. 387-400. Henze, R. C , & Lucas, T. (1993). Shaping instruction to promote the success of language minority students: An analysis of four high school classes. Peabody Journal of Education, 69(1), pp. 54-81. Johnston, J., & Johnston, M. (1990). Content points A,B & C: Science, mathematics and social studies activities. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley. Kessler, C , & Quinn, M.E. (1987). ESL and science learning. In J. Crandall (Ed.), ESL through content-area instruction (pp. 55-87). Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall Regents. Krashen, S. (1985). The input hypothesis: Issues and implications. New York: Longman. Lucas, T. (1993). Secondary schooling for students becoming bilingual: Issues and practices. In M. B. Arias & U. Casanova (Eds.), Bilingual education: Politics, research and practice (pp. 113-143). Chicago: The National Society for the Study of Education. Lucas, T, & Henze, R.C. (1992). Successful secondary schools for language minority students. BEOutreach, 3(2), pp. 1,9-13.

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Lucas, T, Henze, R.C., & Donato, R. (1990). Promoting the success of Latino language minority students: An exploratory study of six high schools. Harvard Educational Review, 60(3), pp. 315-340. Minicucci, C. (1993). Setting a research and policy agenda for the education of secondary students with limited English proficiency: Results of an invitational conference. Peabody Journal of Education, 69(1), pp. 136-151. Minicucci, C , & Olsen, L. (1992). Programs for secondary limited English proficient students: A California study (Occasional Papers in Bilingual Education, Number 5). Washington, DC: Author. O'Malley, J.M., & Chamot, A.U. (1990). Learning strategies in second language acquisition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Powell, A. B., & Frankenstein, M. (Eds.). (1997). Ethnomathematics: Challenging Eurocentrism in mathematics education. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Short, D. (1991). Integrating language and content instruction: Strategies and techniques. Washington, DC: NCBE Program Information Guide Series, no. 7.

Chapter 9

Murals as Interdisciplinary Teaching Rikki Asher

INTERDISCIPLINARY LEARNING A N D ART Do you remember being a junior high school student and having to move from math class on the third floor, to art on the first floor, to gym in the basement, to science on the fifth floor, to French on the second floor, to English on the fourth floor, all in one day? It seemed as though each room presented information that was kept in a separate compartment. Most of the time teachers did not ask you to make connections between art and any other subject, much less to your own experiences. This resulted in accumulating a lot of information that was disconnected and meaningless once exams were taken or reports written. Interdisciplinary teaching is an alternative to this disjointed kind of approach in education. Ideally, it is an approach to organizing content and presenting instruction through a shared theme that leads to connections, meaning, and knowledge. Art classrooms have been affected by interdisciplinary teaching in a number of ways, some beneficial, others not. In correlated art (Bates, 2000), which was initially viewed as an asset to art education, students used art materials and activities to make projects and share information visually; but that is not necessarily art, nor is it art education. "Many art activities, such as copying maps and model construction, are labeled 'art' simply because art media are used" (Hurwitz and Day, 1991, p. 493). Interdisciplinary teaching need not dilute the art program; it could, moreover, enhance it. Thematic teaching using an interdisciplinary lens is complex. Connecting with other disciplines demands that teachers have time to meet regularly, at least one hour a week, to plan (Asher, 1999, p. 59). To avoid problems and to ensure that the art experiences remain artful, many teach-

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ers use a planning strategy that incorporates (1) integration within various arts, (2) integration of art with an academic subject, and (3) emphasis on art content (Bates, 2000, p. 204). Some suggestions for interdisciplinary planning would be to explore themes that link art to other subjects and to choose a theme for a unit as it connects to another subject. Art teachers follow a curriculum, plan units of study, teach content, and assess growth just like teachers of any other discipline. Emphasis on making connections is reflected in terms that refer to this integration process: interdisciplinary, multidisciplinary, transdisciplinary, and cross-curricular. Although each has a specific meaning, these terms all relate to teaching strategies and educational models that can serve to break down compartmentalization, foster critical-thinking skills, and discover relationships between disciplines. They focus on what to teach and on thematic content that can be presented in various ways. For example, the subject of India could be addressed through its geography, history, art, music, dance, literature, or religion. These strategies focus on how students learn. Students are given basic tools for decision making, problem solving, collaborative learning, and research. Regardless of which subject area they study, students develop thinking and expressive skills. Interdisciplinary teaching is an approach that can present teachers with methods to develop the ability to see connections and gain knowledge from more than one discipline through a theme, issue, or topic. As students begin to make these connections, they form an understanding of how art influences themselves and the world. As a muralist who has taught mural making since 1983,1 have found classroom mural making to be one of the most successful means of interdisciplinary teaching I have encountered. Therefore, I present this chapter as a guide for teachers who want to create school murals and show students ways to express themselves through the language of art, dance, literacy, and history. HISTORICAL OVERVIEW OF MURALS A N D INTERDISCIPLINARY TEACHING IN ART Historically, some of the most important murals were created in the United States in the early 1930s, during the Great Depression. Out-ofwork artists were assigned to paint murals on bare walls of public buildings, mainly post offices, libraries, prisons, and hospitals, through a government-sponsored program called the Works Progress Administration Federal Art Project (WPA/FAP), also called the New Deal. In the 1930s, black colleges in the South supported muralism. African American artists such as Aaron Douglas worked on murals at Fisk University; and in 1939, at Talladega College in Alabama, Hale Woodruff created a mural based on the story of the Amistad mutiny. John Biggers, Charles White, Samella Lewis and others painted at Hampton University.

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When Biggers, one of Charles White's students at Hampton, became chairman of the Department of Art at Texas University for Negroes in Houston, he required students to work on a mural in the hallways of the classroom/administration building. During the 1970s artists from various racial and ethnic groups, including African Americans, Chicanos, Asian Americans, and whites, worked on mural projects. These murals addressed the end of war, racism, and repression; the love of beauty and of life. Teachers who want to encourage community awareness, interpersonal understanding, and reflection through cooperative learning can do so by including mural making in the curriculum. Murals and community involvement were part of the New York City art scene in the 1980s. The La Lucha murals were part of a public art collaborative project in which artists created a political art park. A thematic group of 24 murals based on the themes of U.S. government intervention in Central America, apartheid in South Africa, and neighborhood gentrification involved students, artists, and members of the local community. This collaborative project provided an emotionally fulfilling experience that had positive impact on the community (Cockroft, 1985). When teachers can offer examples of contemporary artists whose work focuses on themes that connect life experiences—social themes that also promote creative expression with classroom applications—the learning of art becomes more significant to the student (Cahan & Kocur, 1996). As Eva Sperling Cockroft and Holly Barnet-Sanchez wrote, these murals serve "as an inspiration for struggle, a way of reclaiming a cultural heritage, or even as a means of developing self-pride" (1990, p. 9). Muralist Judith Baca worked with hundreds of inner-city youth to create The Great Wall of Los Angeles. This mural spans 2,500 feet, reaches 13 feet high, and incorporates the ethnic history of California. For Baca, "the process of creating murals is a central part of the educational value of mural art" (Delgado & Barton, 1998, p. 122). In other words, the very process of creating such a collaborative project becomes a means for ethnic understanding and cooperation. "Baca refers to the project as a 'tolerancematrix'; its creation is a mirror of the manner in which the city developed in the past, and a model for Los Angeles in the year 2000—and beyond" (Levick & Young, 1988, p. 87). Hundreds of murals were painted by Chicano muralists who worked with a number of teenagers in the Mission District of San Francisco in the 1970s and 1980s. Their paintings celebrated Latin American culture with themes including historical events from the Mexican Revolution; portraits of Cesar Chavez, Frida Kahlo, and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.; and political and social issues such as racism and prison conditions. Interdisciplinary teaching in art has become a strong movement and a controversial issue in contemporary art education. Bates (2000) discusses

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teaching interdisciplinary art in classrooms, including issues, content, and strategies while encouraging reflection. Although she discusses the positive aspects of this approach, she also discusses some of the inherent problems. Her three integration strategies in interdisciplinary art education include (1) art used to promote learning in other subjects, (2) art integrated on an equal basis with other subjects, and (3) art using other subjects as vehicles to explore its own content and processes. In the first strategy, teachers in all subject areas use art activities to supplement instruction. This approach does not obviate the need for art class and in fact uses art as only a small percentage of the learning process in the other subjects. In the second strategy, art is integrated equally; teachers of art and teachers of other subjects can plan units around a common theme. Each subject teacher addresses the theme on his or her own. The third strategy offers art teachers the most autonomy, suggesting they approach classroom or academic subject-area teachers and plan with them curricula to determine interdisciplinary links with art (p. 198). MURALS IN CLASSROOMS Murals can positively affect a community as well as the people who create them. Classroom murals can turn traditional history lessons into collaborative learning units and transform personal vision into art. Murals commonly use universal themes. In this way, mural art is, in Paul Von Blum's (1976) words, "art of social conscience." Mural making in public schools is often avoided by teachers. They consider it too difficult, too big, and too complicated. My observation, from working with adolescents and from teaching teachers this process, is that mural making does not have to take on the proportions of the Sistine Chapel. It can be managed within the constraints of 40-minute classroom periods. Mural painting presents a very effective way to explore themes that link art to other subjects. By telling a story revealed through a combination of color, line, and form within a large public space, the process offers a cooperative learning environment through interdisciplinary teaching. The following is an account of a successful experience in classroom mural making. The theme of immigration to and migration in Queens, New York, intrigued me and led to my teaching a course in mural making on the graduate level at Queens College. Eleven art education students developed, planned, and executed The Procession Mural as part of the elective class Mural Painting in the Classroom. Queens community members and college faculty had input into the final sketch through a College Advisory Committee. The procedures included three preliminary steps: (1) gathering oral histories of the lives of a cross-section of people who represent the area, (2) conducting historical research, and (3) making design decisions around the theme of immigration and migration in Queens.

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WHY MURALS? A mural can beautify a public space. It can also convey a message. A teacher's main objective in creating a mural should be to elicit from the students their own experiences of the world. The most effective kind of mural combines elements of line, shape, color, and form as symbols that convey a specific meaning, one that can be easily understood by the community. For example, consider Picasso's mural Guernica, painted in response to the Nationalist bombing of civilians during the Spanish Civil War. The exaggerated, angular shapes of the depicted figures and animals, as well as their expressions and positions, clearly convey their suffering, the artist's personal homage to the victims, and, even more clearly, his hatred of war. As professor of education Dan Nadaner (1983) wrote, "The visual arts communicate our personal perspectives towards the events which concern us" (p. 22). Mural experiences present opportunities to develop respect for others' perspectives and respect for oneself through critical thinking, reflection and research, interviewing, transcription, revision, drawing, and painting. ART A N D ORAL HISTORY CONNECTIONS Oral history provides classroom teachers with an opportunity to transform textbook stories into living examples of the experiences of people studied in the classroom. Personal stories can promote not only critical thinking and a historical perspective but also an interest that may motivate further study or help students expand their perspective. One particular strength of art is its "capacity to generate emotion, [to] stimulate and express the 'feel' of a situation, individual, or object" (Eisner, 1991, p. 554). In art classes, stories of those who immigrated to or migrated within the United States can serve as material to be illuminated through artistic media. Initial research methods for The Procession Mural are described here: To illuminate this unique immigration history through artistic interpretation, the project offered the community a deeper understanding of the generations who came before us... Students were encouraged to find personal approaches to qualitative, interdisciplinary, and multicultural teaching, and to understand the complexities of group activity in a cooperative learning environment. (Asher, 2000, pp. 161-162) Queens-based performance artist and oral historian Judith Sloan was invited to the first class session and brought strategies for gathering oral histories and bringing them to life. Most class members had never interviewed anyone before. Sloan taught techniques for capturing the observations of interviewees while also noting their physical characteristics, tone of voice, and mannerisms. These elements were later transferred into pen-

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cil sketches. She encouraged groups to practice by improvising autobiographies. While individuals shared their stories, other participants paid close attention to what was said, which resulted in the development of active listening skills. Students found Sloan's advice essential to capture the spirit of those interviewed. Techniques and processes from Oral History in the Secondary School Classroom (Lanman & Mehaffy, 1988) were then applied by class members who conducted audiotaped interviews with two or three generations of family members to raise awareness about personal history. One student interviewed a grandparent who was a World War II Holocaust survivor; another spoke with her mother, who described her grandmother's experiences as an Italian immigrant working in a Manhattan sweatshop and living in Queens. My mother-in-law told me her story of packing a small suitcase in Germany to leave for Switzerland, soon after her synagogue was burned during the Kristallnacht riots, and then of coming to America later. Images of uncertainty, separation, loss, and hope came through in their words. Master tapes of all interviews, along with a brief description of each tape's contents, have been deposited in the Queens College Rosenthal Library and are available for public use. As an outcome of these oral histories, class members presented their impressions of immigration and migration through photographs, drawings, collages, and paintings. In class, mural making remained a primary focus, but students also explored methodologies of oral history. Through discussion of the results of their interviews and interpretations of similar stories, students expressed a thematic organizing principle (Jacobs, 1989) related to migration and immigration. Before finalized drawings were made, this class explored and interpreted actions of the immigrants through facial expressions and different types of body movement patterns, including bending, running, waving, and lifting.

MOVEMENT, DANCE, AND ART AS STORY Art, dance, and social studies are usually thought of as separate areas of study. This chapter describes how these disciplines were taught through an integrated unit that examines mural making. Through this unit, oral history research methods used in the social sciences, mural creations from the fine arts, and interpretive body movement skills through dance came together to evoke strengths associated with interdisciplinary approaches for group members, most of whom already were teachers. Art teachers may feel awkward about working with dance and movement teachers because these disciplines seem so far apart. However, quite the opposite is true. Dance teachers typically spend considerable time studying different interpretations of one story. In both art and dance,

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attention to movement, line, exploration of space, and gesture are part of a teacher's preparation. Early in the semester, choreographer /teacher Carolyn Bilderback led a class workshop: Experiencing Story through Movement. She presented an opportunity to learn to be more "in" the body and more closely attuned through imagination and improvisation. Participants were invited to interact with each other so as to become aware of image, sensory awareness, and movement in space. Barefoot students were encouraged to work alone and in groups, stretching, swinging, moving, and trying to let go of any prior knowledge or experience of dance. Through a sequence of simple exercises, body awareness and nonverbal gestures were explored. In an article about dance education, research scholar Judith Hanna (1983) wrote, "We move our bodies to go about our daily lives.... Without conscious thought we forget that the body can be a vehicle of conceptualization and symbolic emotions wed as immediate feeling and physicality." This description reflects experiences of class members' awareness of body and mind through movement. Mime within dance is a way to express ideas, feelings, and plots with gestures rather than words or pictures. Bilderback chose actions from life related to immigrants and immigration. Movements included packing a suitcase, sweeping, sewing, washing dishes, dancing, singing, looking for someone, saying goodbye, and carrying luggage. Students related to these human actions and reactions as they were elicited from interviews. This workshop's purpose was to have participants develop body awareness inspired by interview descriptions and to help participants to better understand the power of gesture while connecting body perception with drawing. As Maxine Greene wrote, "This stress on process, on movement, on the union of the mind and body seems to be of importance to our personal lives, as it is to the lives of those we teach" (2001, p. 95). Bilderback helped workshop participants find ways to develop a deeper understanding of movement as a reflection of daily life. Along with developing their ability to communicate stories through nonverbal expression, students discovered a heightened awareness of such nonlinguistic behaviors as gestures, facial expressions, and body language (Piazza, 1999). In relating these movement experiences to art, students were able to recall a sweeping gesture of arms or legs and apply these to several drawings. Mural painting is a very physical process. Four individual panels of heavy plywood had to be carried up and down a flight of stairs in the studio for each class. These movements also offered techniques to physically warm up class members and enabled the group to "uncouple from the ordinary" (Greene, 2001, p. 69). Students were able to leave daily pressures behind and focus their thoughts on what needed attention. This workshop provided approaches to an aesthetic experience as a basis for deeper understanding of the interplay between movement and drawing.

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Without deliberately identifying a relationship between what was going on in this classroom with the Learning Standards for the Arts (State Education Department, 1986), I found it apparent that something very close to reshaping, reviewing, and researching curriculum themes was being encountered by participants. HOW LEARNING STANDARDS FOR THE ARTS WERE USED TO TEACH MURAL MAKING New York State's Learning Standards for the Arts reflect educational goals that are common to dance, music, theatre, and the visual arts. The arts standards provide school districts with a basic structure for developing curricula that link instruction and assessment to content standards. Learning Standards for the Arts exist at three levels: elementary, intermediate, and commencement. They are open-ended enough to allow teachers to present a wide assortment of artistic experiences to students. An experienced art teacher covers these standards automatically. New teachers or student teachers must be aware of these standards and must understand that they are merely a framework based on a minimum set of art experiences on which teachers will build. In mural making, teachers can encourage students to develop an understanding of social responsibility and community through the creation of art and analysis of a particular theme or topic. Standard I: Creating, Performing, and Participating in the Arts The mural process described in this chapter began as a personal investigation of the past by way of interviews with community members and research on famous local residents (through resources such as the Queens Historical Society). Based on these texts, drawings were made to tell a story. Through a dance workshop, the group experienced body awareness inspired by descriptions in the interviews, and participants better understood the power of gesture, both of which helped to connect mind and body with drawing. Students explored elements of art and principles of design to communicate what they wanted to express. Using personal narratives, oral histories, and physical gestures through dance, they were encouraged to generate visual responses. Standard II: Knowing and Using Arts Materials and Resources Class members were introduced to on-line research methods and materials through Internet search engines and various Web sites. Students ana-

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lyzed information at such cultural institutions as the Queens Historical Society and the Queens Museum of Art. They also discovered origins of local Works Progress Administration murals of the 1930s. Students gathered data and experimented with drawing, collage, charcoal, glue, various papers, markers, pencil, gesso, paints, acrylic nontoxic sealer, and preservation materials. Standard III: Responding to and Analyzing Works of Art Students wrote investigative reports based on research about local and international murals and muralists. Using the theme of immigration to and migration in Queens, they were able to make connections between art and other disciplines using the language of art criticism, documentation, and description and analysis of data exercised through a comparison of works of art and through the study of the works' connections to local history. A mural dedication revealed positive responses from the community, which demonstrated the students' ability to carry out the goals and objectives of this project. Standard IV: Understanding the Cultural Dimensions and Contributions of the Arts In the beginning of the semester, the class learned about historical murals in the United States, France, Italy, Mexico, India, and Australia. This learning influenced their creative outcomes. Based on personal and community oral histories, students designed a mural that reflected their own connections with the rich cultural diversity of Queens. Through collaboration and cooperation, individual ideas were combined to form a cohesive image for this mural that reflected influences of a variety of cultural styles. SOCIOLOGICAL IMPLICATIONS: STUDENTS, TEACHER, COMMUNITY Social scientist Holscher has identified the sociopolitical value that murals offer to underprivileged communities (Holscher, 1976-77; Delgado & Barton, 1998). One school mural project I worked on in the South Bronx in 1988—before Columbine and similar in-school killings became frontpage news—involved a group of at-risk teenagers who were confronted with the death of a fellow student in the school. He was killed in a random shooting, and this group wanted to commemorate his memory in some way. When I proposed a mural, the class had no idea what a mural was and raised doubts that they could manage such an undertaking. After some dis-

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cussion and a look at some murals I had done in the past, they were willing to try. A grant from the Citizen's Committee of New York provided materials needed, including paint, rollers, brushes, trays, and aprons; and a local paint store donated painter's hats. Class members formed groups to research historical accounts of violence and nonviolence in the United States. This activity proved to be an effective way for students to take control of feelings they had and to process these emotions through study, reflection, and dialog. This group found links between Gandhi's teachings of nonviolence, his influence on Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s theories of nonviolence, and related actions of Rosa Parks. They wrestled with their own conflicting feelings about violence in their neighborhoods, police brutality, and the easy accessibility of guns. From the mural team that was formed, subgroups worked on specific tasks based on their artistic strengths and researched nontoxic materials for preservation and application techniques. Over a four-month period, numerous discussions about a final image entailed the negotiation of ideas and compromise. The school's principal and custodial staff supported the painting of this mural on a wall of the main office. A scaffold was often required, which even led to heightened safety-consciousness among the students. Each mural team member was committed to following safety procedures and could observe the effects of those procedures on individuals and the group. Wall preparation involved sanding and plastering, for which face masks and goggles were worn. For the first time in their academic lives, these youngsters were able to have a positive impact on their environment instead of being acted upon by their environment. The nature of this process encouraged each of these teenagers to develop his or her potential as a member of the class and the school community. The group developed respect for materials, the mural, themselves, and their team members. As Cockroft wrote, "the basis for successful community murals has been respect for people, respect for self, respect for art" (1977, p. 276). MATERIALS A N D TECHNIQUES: OFF-THE-WALL MURALS In some situations, painting directly onto a wall is not possible. Fortunately, once students get excited about doing murals, the lack of a proper wall on which to paint does not have to doom the project. The many other mural surfaces available to teachers include paper, canvas, wooden boards for ceramic and mosaic murals, and panels or masonite for portable murals. Although each of these surfaces presents specific challenges for the teacher, portable murals—especially in the art class—are an interesting way to proceed. Students can build a frame for a mural on wooden or masonite panels. Cloth murals are quite portable too; they are easy to

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work on and can be glued directly onto the wall or stretched on a frame that is attached to the wall. Mosaic murals can be made with a variety of small objects used as mosaic pieces, including pebbles, stones, linoleum tiles, glass tesserae, shells, cut paper, buttons, and many other objects. Many of these materials can be collected on a field trip with younger students. Collecting materials can be a fun project in itself—for example, a beach cleanup trip can produce collections of shells, bits of colored glass, bottle caps, and smooth stones. Just as artists recycle broken objects, materials, and ideas from the past and incorporate them into new works of art, children can create personally meaningful, beautiful mosaic murals out of discarded debris and natural objects. Funding In addition to his or her artistic skills, a teacher must cultivate various strengths that are not always considered part of an art curriculum, including the persuasiveness to obtain permission to paint on walls; knowledge of the chemical contents of paints, primers, and sealants; the ability to research various forms of fund raising; and writing skills to apply for grants and request financial support. A teacher's task as artistic director, organizer, and coordinator is crucial. State, city, and local organizations are sometimes willing to support a project, provided that the project has clear objectives and—most important for the organizations—that they receive acknowledgment for their contribution (a requirement often fulfilled by inclusion of the organization's name on a wall plaque or in a program). Local paint and hardware stores often donate materials to a mural project. Students can be taught to comparison shop for materials, estimate costs, and develop a budget based on the grant amount awarded. Documentation Part of an educator's job is to teach students about accountability. Documentation helps serve that purpose. Records of the progress of the mural project at all stages—with photographs, participants' names, notes of surprises and problems that arose, and financial records—are used for writing a final hinders' report. Then, at the dedication, participants celebrate the finished mural and give their work to the community. Dedication ceremonies can involve speakers from the school community, including the principal, custodial and secretarial staff, teachers, students, and parents, as well as guest speakers from local historical societies, libraries, and cultural institutions. Music students or local professional musicians can perform a music interval at the dedication, and closing remarks can be followed by a ribbon-cutting ceremony and refreshments.

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Future Considerations Once a mural is completed, someone needs to keep an eye on it; there is always the question of who will maintain and restore it. If a good acrylic nontoxic sealant is used, little maintenance is needed. Mural durability depends on many factors, such as the quality of the medium and wall conditions. The intent of a mural, type of material used, location and exposure to elements, and graffiti all contribute to the kind of preservation needed. New technologies are beginning to influence mural making. Scanners and computer programs such as Adobe Photoshop give teachers and students the ability to manipulate initial drawings through layering and collage. The copying and resizing of images has become much easier and less time-consuming; and shared images can be downloaded from the Internet with ease. Transforming numerous initial sketches into one cohesive, finished drawing used to take hours of work. With scanners, elements of the design can be moved easily and duplicated almost effortlessly.

CONCLUSION The unit of instruction described in this chapter has altered students' perceptions of immigration through mural making. By means of oral history techniques, research, dance literacy, cooperative learning, and a collaborative translation of ideas into visual imagery, a work of public art as community education was created. I taught a mural-painting class for graduate art education students. Early sessions revealed that students were hesitant to share ideas about immigration, expressed uncertainties about their abilities to undertake research, and were unsure that they could develop a collective idea for a mural design. Some students struggled from beginning to end with drawing skills and lack of painting experience. Yet, by midsemester this group had successfully investigated local public murals and had written papers that described theme, size, date, artist, funding, visual qualities, and the impact of these elements on their own artwork. They prepared teaching portfolios that included a unit plan on classroom mural making, visuals, and a self-evaluation describing the effects that mural making had on individual students. In addition, they developed an understanding of immigration based on personal contact with the subjects of this project. Many class members had an enriching experience that resulted in expressions of appreciation for immigration experiences through art, history, and dance. Some students who currently teach art in public schools have begun to use their experiences in classrooms, with positive results. Examples include an elementary-level, after-school mural club whose theme involved depictions of famous African Americans who grew up

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Figure 9.1 The Procession Mural

near the school, and a secondary-level program that offered students a framework to understand relationships to community through art and local history. Students worked diligently on designs throughout this unit and ultimately created a work of public art rooted in personal narratives of a cross section of Queens residents. The mural, which measure 8 feet by 16 feet, has been permanently installed in Rosenthal Library on the Queens College campus (see Figure 9.1). This mural project was a valuable experience for the class and also for me. As an art educator, I have learned how interdisciplinary models that include dance allow students to develop ideas in new and often unfamiliar ways, ways that never occurred to me. This chapter may serve to stimulate further discussion and understanding about relationships between art, dance, and history, in the interest of art, social change, and personal development. Public art making in schools offers teachers a chance to cross disciplinary lines, challenge preconceived ideas about immigration, and transform common themes and curriculum into creating a learning environment that releases the imagination (Greene, 1998) through the power of art. A work of public art evolved from students' personal narratives, memorials, and perspectives on community life. Murals permit teachers to work with students and communities to discover local history and reconstruct it through art for the public as well as for those who create it. This art form serves as an example that goes beyond interdisciplinary teaching; murals teach skills that can be transferred from school to daily life.

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REFERENCES Asher, R. (1999, April). Creating a classroom kelp forest. School Arts Magazine, 98, pp. 58-59. Asher, R. (2000). The Procession Mural. In B. Kraut (Ed.), The Journal of Jewish Studies, pp. 161-166. New York: City University of new York at Queens College. Bates, J.K. (2000). Becoming an art teacher. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth. Cahan, S., & Kocur, Z. (1996). Contemporary art and multiculturalism. New York: Routledge. Capek, M. (1999). Murals: Cave, cathedral to street. Minneapolis, MN: Lerner Publications. Cockroft, E. (1985, Winter). The La Lucha murals: Artists create political art park in New York City. Community Murals Magazine, pp. 9-14. Cockcroft, E., Weber, J., & Cockcroft, H. (1977). Towards a peoples art: The contemporary mural movement. New York; Dutton 7 Co. Cockroft Sperling, E., & Barnet-Sanchez, H. (Eds.). (1990). Signs from the heart: California Chicano murals. Venice, CA: Social and Public Art Resource Center. Delgado, M., & Barton, K. (1998, July). Murals in Latino communities: Social indicators of community strengths. Social Work, 43(4), pp. 346-356. Eisner, E. (1991). Art, music and literature within social studies. In J. Shaver (Ed.), Handbook of research on social studies, teaching and learning, 551-558. New York: MacMillan. Greene, M. (2001). Variations on a blue guitar. New York: Teachers College Press. Hanna, J. (1983). the mentality and matter of dance. Art Education (March), 42-46. Holscher, L.M. (1976-77). Tiene arte valor afuera del barrio [Art has value outside of the community]: The murals of East Los Angeles and Boyle Heights. Journal of Ethnic Studies, 4, pp. 42-52. Hurwtiz, A., & Day, M. (1991). Children and their art. Orlando, FL: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. Jacobs, H. H. (Ed.). (1989). Interdisciplinary Curriculum: Design and implementation. Alexandria, VA: Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development. Lanman, B., & Mehaffy, G. (1988). Oral history in the secondary school classroo7n. Los Angeles. Oral History Association. Levick, M., & Young, S. (1988). The big picture: Murals of Los Angeles. Boston: Little, Brown. Nadaner, D. (1983, Fall ). On art and social understanding: Lessons from Alfred Schultz. The Journal of Multicultural and Cross-Cultural Research in Art Education, 2(1), pp. 15-25. Piazza, C. (1999). Multiple forms of literacy: Teaching literacy and the arts. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall. State Education Department (1996, April). Learning Standards for the Arts (Rev. ed.). Albany: NY: The University of the State of New York, Regents of the University. Von Blum, P. (1976). The art of social conscience. New York: Universe Books.

Chapter 10

Learning to Let Go: Student Participation in the Development of an Integrated English Curriculum Wendy J. Glenn

The complexity of real-world problems demands an integrated approach to finding solutions, one that incorporates knowledge and skills from a variety of disciplines. Upon leaving the classroom, our students will be asked to resolve both personal and social conflicts in a changing world, a world in a state of economic, social, and political flux. To succeed in and contribute to this world, citizens must know more than correct English usage, algebra, or the scientific method. They must know not only content but how to use that content in conjunction with other disciplines to solve real problems. Unfortunately, schooling today generally does not recognize this need for integration, and students continue to move from math to English to science to social studies without recognizing the powerful connections between these disciplines. Despite increasing evidence that demonstrates the effectiveness of integrated instruction, many teachers remain isolated (Willis, 1992). They teach their subject matter without reference to any other discipline and do so on their own without collaboration with other content-area teachers. In secondary schools, in particular, "the disciplines are more entrenched and teachers see themselves as subject-area specialists" (Willis, 1992, p. 2). Although the isolation that results from the current model of school organization is a reality, the implementation of an integrated model is attainable. With courage, trust, and a willingness to accept the unexpected, the single-teacher classroom can become home to several other disciplines. INTEGRATION, IN THEORY Research has demonstrated repeatedly the validity of an integrated approach. First, this method helps students make connections between

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content areas and thus comprehend more fully the knowledge they acquire. In many single-subject classrooms, knowledge is fragmented into pieces of information that have little overlap or context. Even as early as third grade, "children view subjects as changes in behavior, teacher attitude, areas of the room, and times of day. Rarely does anyone explain to them the nature and power of the disciplines or how the subjects relate to one another" (Jacobs, 1991, p. 22). When students study subjects in isolation, they "get the impression that science is one thing and art something wholly different" (Kohl, 1976, p. 50). Teachers, in this scenario, miss a wonderful opportunity to help students see, for example, how the scientific use of perspective allowed Leonardo da Vinci to create The Last Supper. When these connections are made, the artificial boundaries of departmentalized knowledge begin to blur, as in life itself. In the real world, "not many adults sit down and do math for 60 minutes and then spend an hour focusing on grammar" (Peters, Schubeck, & Hopkins, 1995, p. 634). Instead, we solve problems by drawing upon knowledge from any field applicable to the issue at hand. Students who practice this approach and gain skills steeped in real-world application will be more successful in that world and find greater depth of meaning in the knowledge they possess. Within an integrated curriculum, "two things happen. First, young people are encouraged to integrate learning experiences into their schemes of meaning so as to broaden and deepen their understanding of themselves and their world. Second, they are engaged in seeking, acquiring, and using knowledge in an organic—not an artificial—way. That is, knowledge is called forth in the context of problems, interests, issues, and concerns at hand," much like problem solving outside the walls of the classroom (Beane, 1995, p. 616). The integrated approach is also touted as an effective model due to the ever-increasing focus on technology and the rapid availability of knowledge in the modern world. Students have access to an amazing amount of knowledge; from CD-ROMs to the Internet to satellite television, any desired information is out there. Critics of the traditional model recognize that "the exclusive use of the separate subjects curriculum is inappropriate in view of this highly technological age's tremendous knowledge explosion" (Stewart, 1990, p. 13). Because knowledge is constantly changing and growing, it is of little value to teach students facts and figures limited to a given content area, especially when this knowledge might be outdated the next month as new discoveries are made. Instead of this curbed focus, we should implement a more processbased curriculum that teaches students how to solve problems. The content-area information needed to solve a given problem can be found and learned as required for the issue at hand. The integrated approach "exemplifies the content being applied to the solution of practical, realistic problems instead of merely being covered and mastered" (Stewart, 1990, p. 13).

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In addition, an integrated curriculum can help make sense of the everincreasing knowledge of our technological society. The accumulation of unrelated facts is no longer enough, if it ever was, for young people to effectively make sense of the world. Facts have been compared to chips in a mosaic (Jacobs, 1989). The job of the school is to help students glue these pieces together into a coherent whole (Willis, 1992, p. 3). Integrated instruction can serve as this unifying element. Recent brain research also indicates the benefits of using integration to increase understanding and retention. The old model emphasizes a view of the brain as a storage container for isolated facts and pieces of unrelated information; rote memorization and recall are emphasized. Under this model, for example, students might be asked to learn the names of all the U.S. presidents and list them chronologically in a testing situation. More recent research into the brain, however, indicates the existence of a more holistic organizational scheme. The theory is "that our minds organize pieces of related information into complex webs, called schemata. New information becomes meaningful when it is integrated into our existing schemata. In this way, knowledge builds on itself, and the schemata grow exponentially" (Peters et al., 1995, p. 634). The brain attempts to seek patterns and make connections between acquired pieces of knowledge, similar to the aims of integrated instruction. The mind is "genetically designed to learn from the natural world. The extent to which schools oversimplify, make logical, or restrict the world's natural complexity is the extent to which schools inhibit the natural workings of the mind and restrict a student's ability to learn" (Randle, 1997, p. 85). Integrated instruction, on the contrary, takes advantage of this brain functioning by organizing information as a whole, often in the form of a thematic web that combines, connects, and makes cohesive the knowledge gained. Because this approach works hand in hand with the organization of the brain, higher-level thinking and long-term retention have been shown to increase. From the perspective of Joan Palmer, associate superintendent in the Howard County Public Schools (Maryland), when instruction is integrated, students "learn more, remember more, and apply knowledge more They thoroughly understand; they're not just doing rote memorization" (Willis, 1992, pp. 4-5). Ben Ebersole, professor of Education at the University of Maryland and head of the Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development's Interdisciplinary Curriculum network, adds that learning to make connections between subjects is more rigorous and absorbing than memorization; "you really have to understand things better to put them together" (Willis, 1992, p. 5). This, in turn, helps students remember information longer. The integrated approach requires connections to be made between pieces of knowledge. Because knowledge is more easily remembered when it is connected in multiple ways, retention is increased with this curricular design (Perkins, 1991).

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Finally, integrated instruction is a worthwhile curricular approach as it motivates students and helps to encourage lifelong learning. The interdisciplinary connections inherent in integration capture and hold the attention of students; these students are studying content that is relevant not only in a single classroom but in other classes and the world at large; what is learned in one class may be reinforced in another. According to Pat Wasley, a senior researcher with the Coalition of Essential Schools, if students do "math in math class and never see any applicability, never engage in problems that serve a personal purpose, then they won't invest energy" (Willis, 1992, p. 3). In addition, the integrated approach teaches students skills they will use long after they leave the classroom. Because they are taught process in addition to content, they are forced to seek out information needed to solve given problems. This encourages students to take responsibility for their learning and become more independent in their quest for solutions. No longer is there just an easy answer that needs simply to be memorized and recited back to the teacher. INTEGRATION IN THE REAL WORLD Although I have long believed an integrated approach benefits students, it has taken time and change on my behalf to implement these ideas in the real classroom. I began my career as a seventh- and eighth-grade English teacher in a new junior high school designed to allow for integrated teaching among faculty members. Teams of English, math, science, social studies, and reading teachers shared a core group of students, and planning time was set aside for the design of integrated thematic units that spanned the disciplines. Having just completed a teacher preparation program that advocated such an approach, I was thrilled. However, whereas the vision of the school was ideal, the reality was not. Several teachers were not familiar with the integrated approach; others did not wish to learn. They argued that they were not trained to teach concepts that belonged in other content areas and that math and English, for example, shared no common course material. Taking a risk and leaving the familiar territory of their academic area was too difficult (Carducci, Dunham, Elsasser, & Lewthwaite, 1996-97, p. 11). Disillusioned and disappointed, but still committed to organizing a curriculum that encouraged connections, I persisted in the privacy of my own classroom. I spent hours and days creating thematic units that listed my objectives and the activities I believed would allow my students to achieve them. Before the semester began (and before I had met my students), I planned every day of the semester. We would explore a variety of themes that I selected, from "Identity and Acceptance" to "The Everyday Hero" to "Personal Revolution," and complete a series of activities that I created. Although I was proud of my seeming innovation in teaching, I recognize

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now that these early attempts were certainly thorough but so formalized that they did not allow students to formulate their own meaning. I not only determined what they should learn but presumed that the daily activities and assignments created without their input would be adequate for them to make sense of a given theme—assuming, of course, that the theme interested them to begin with. The units were indeed engaging for me, but there was no guarantee that they would be for students. How could I predict accurately the questions they would have or the personal knowledge they possessed without ever having met them? How could students work to solve problems when I already provided the answers through activities based on my own construction of knowledge? As a novice teacher, I put too little trust in my students and refused to relinquish control, perhaps out of fear that the course, no longer fully a creation of my own, would become something I did not anticipate or desire. Unpredictability was daunting and thus limiting. It was not until I moved to the high school and began teaching a junioryear class in American literature that I was forced to reconsider my vision and implementation of an integrated approach. In the junior high, curriculum requirements focused on skills that could be taught in a variety of ways. Students were expected to learn how to write a personal narrative, for example, but teachers could use any appropriate method to help students achieve this goal. The creation of interdisciplinary units in this setting, then, was not bound by many constraints. In the American Literature class, however, several obstacles influenced and shaped how freely the course could be organized. Department and district curriculum guides required that certain pieces of literature be taught and encouraged chronological organization of the literature by historical periods. Although this curriculum was so heavily dictated by outside forces, students helped me learn how to create an integrated, interdisciplinary course. At first, I was not sure whether or not such an approach was even possible; but, with time and student involvement, we worked around these constraints, beginning with small, integrated projects and then developing thematic units that spanned each time period and, ultimately, the entire course. Early in this process, I had to admit that students possessed ideas I had not considered—good ideas, better than mine. They forced me to abandon my lockstep approach and allow the course to change with each group of students. I then had to learn to relinquish some control over the course content and, ultimately, trust my students. The key here was to create a partnership between students and teacher, one that allowed students meaningful expression of their own interests, questions, and insights but did not eliminate the teacher's presence or guidance. Indeed, some student ideas had to be rejected or revised. For instance, after reading excerpts from Henry David Thoreau's Walden, Josh, a highly motivated, young intellectual insisted that we try to replicate Thoreau's

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experiment of isolated living for ourselves. He was ready to load up his backpack and head to the woods for a few weeks of seclusion. Although his idea was not likely to occur due to missed school time and concerned parents, his thinking inspired us to organize a weeklong nature exploration in place of our scheduled class meeting time. During our "wilderness experience," we abandoned the walls of the classroom and dedicated ourselves to the study of nature around our campus. In our journals, we recorded our observations of ants as they foraged for food; we sketched trees and flowers that caught our eye; and we tried to predict the supplies we might need to survive in the wild for an extended period of time. Students were forced to solve practical problems by drawing upon knowledge from several disciplines and, more significantly, they more fully appreciated Thoreau's endeavor as a result. They lived his experience in a way that reading alone could not provide. In student evaluations of the course, these young people noted repeatedly that the event shaped them and their thinking. One student reported, The wilderness experience is one that I won't ever forget. Imagining having to take care of ourselves in the woods and deal with problems that came up, like keeping warm and cooking food, made me wonder if I could live alone for a long time. I think that I'm independent, but I also learned that I love to be around people. Thoreau, even though he cheated by going into the city, must have enjoyed all the time he had to sit around and think. I plan to do more of that. (Anonymous, personal communication, 1999) As with the above example, many of our interdisciplinary pursuits developed from the required readings of the course. One of my favorites emerged after we read Jonathan Edwards's sermon, "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" (1741). In the piece, Edwards warns his fellow Puritans that their fate hangs in the balance; at any moment, God may decide to cast them into the fires of hell. During our discussion of the text, especially the images used by Edwards to remind listeners of their tenuous situation, Camille spoke up. A bright, politically minded young woman, she noted how the sermon reads much like a modern-day advertisement. She likened it to a television advertisement for Apple Computer in which IBM users were warned that they would soon despair unless they made the change to the computer of the future. Other students piped up with their own examples of ads they had seen that paralleled what they had read in the sermon. This ultimately led to a discussion of the various tactics used by advertisers to encourage viewers and listeners to purchase their products, including logical appeals, emotional appeals, fear tactics, vivid imagery, and the bandwagon approach. Students not only generated this list of tactics but also identified use of the tactics in advertising as well as in Edwards's sermon.

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Students were so intrigued by the relationship between language and advertising that I suggested they create their own advertising campaigns. We decided as a class that students would work in small groups to create a product that would appeal to a Puritan audience. They would design a poster (similar to a magazine layout) that advertised the selected product and then present their product to us, the Puritan clients, explaining clearly how the product would benefit us in our given time and place. The results were astounding. Nick, Beth, Randy, and Scott created a line of Christian Crusaders, action figures taken from Biblical text, designed to help children "watch good triumph over evil time and time again" and "visualize the battles as they happened in Biblical times." Amanda, Kristi, and Katie presented Puritan Pops, frozen ice pops that "are not only delightfully delicious but also contain a message. Biblical verses are inscribed on each stick." Samples for the audience were included as a part of the presentation. Kevin, Candice, Julia, and Trey took the project one step further and videotaped a sample television ad for their product, Lucifrin, "the newest product from Devil-Be-Gone Industries designed to cure your child of any satanically induced diseases." The tape documented the behavior of a young child before and after the administration of the drug and had us laughing to the point of tears. In the completion of this activity, students drew upon their critical thinking, artistic, and dramatic skills to make a required reading applicable to their own lives. They also had fun, an important outcome if our goal is to encourage lifelong learning and a genuine appreciation for knowledge among the students in our care. The students said it best when, after the presentations, Trey cried out, "That rocked! When can we do that again?," and Tom added, "The Puritans would so buy our stuff. Even Edwards would be a sure customer." A more comprehensive, thematically related example of integration emerged at the end of each unit of chronological study. The first time this occurred, it was quite by accident. My fourth-period class was reviewing the readings from the Revolutionary period—those by Ben Franklin, Thomas Paine, Thomas Jefferson, and others—to segue into the romantic era. As we tried to make connections among writers and works of the Revolution, various themes emerged. Students were especially fascinated by the idea that our founding fathers had the opportunity to create a new nation, one with baggage, of course, but one that could be of their own shaping and influence. Andrea, a shy and typically reserved young woman who was reading Thomas More's Utopia as her silent sustainedreading text, noted how our nation's first leaders had the opportunity to design their vision of the perfect society. This, of course, yielded much discussion as to what constitutes perfection and whether or not such an ideal society could ever be created. To further explore these ideas, we brainstormed examples of several Utopian attempts throughout history. Students identified such groups as

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the Shakers, Quakers, Flower Children, and even such locales as Singapore and Celebration, Florida, as potential examples for further study. Classmates worked together with the school librarian to gather readings related to each group, and our process of discovery began once again. As a part of their study, students identified shortcomings of each Utopian attempt, noting that no one Utopia can match all human interests and values. Rick, our class scientist, encouraged us to consider whether the potential results of genetic engineering might lead to a more ideal society We cannot dictate how people live due to our unique needs and values. But what if people are created to fit those values? Could a fairy-tale society be created as a result of scientific advances? This simple unit review took a turn and inspired similar discussions after the completion of readings in each time period thereafter. The next year, students opted to continue this process and identified the theme of blind obedience to authority as salient for the Puritan culture, for example. Students discussed how the Puritans traveled to an unknown land wherein survival was not guaranteed. To maintain order, rules were needed, but the extreme situation they faced may have led to extreme order. We read and discussed such issues as they occurred during the Salem witchcraft trials and in Arthur Miller's The Crucible. We then turned to psychology and studied Milgram's shock therapy experiments; incorporated military history and the notion of "just following orders" among soldiers; and drew upon the worlds of fashion, art, and literature to explore how each comes in vogue with the words of a few notable critics. Although the course remained chronologically organized, students worked through this obstacle to make interdisciplinary' connections through creative thinking. The most comprehensive integration in this American Literature course emerged in my final year of teaching in the public schools, during the first week's discussion of the various directions the course might take. I described the impressive ideas and projects of students past and encouraged this group to consider ways to make the course more meaningful for themselves. James, a curious young man who I soon learned had a passion for politics and history, suggested we focus our study on the American character, discussing what it means to be an American and whether or not these ideas changed over time as seen in the literature. By this time, I had learned to allow students to explore selected themes in depth over the course of the semester in my writing classes, in which skills, rather than content, were dictated by the curriculum guides. We could explore any given theme and thus integrated any content as long as we showed mastery of the compare-and-contrast essay form, for example. My fear with applying a singular theme to the American Literature course was that it might be ultimately too broad or too artificial, considering the course was a year in length, chronological in organization, and generally predetermined in content. We took a risk, however, and gave it a shot.

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We decided to develop James's idea by examining various metaphors assigned to the American character. We generated a list that defined Americans as creators, discoverers, nurturers, patriots, defenders, and exploiters. Students worked in small groups to study one of the above metaphors and spent the year tracing its existence through the literature of each time period. The "American as Creator" group, for example, was particularly interested in the visual arts. As a result, the group's members found representative pieces (primarily paintings) of each time period, brought them to class, and held discussions about whether or not the art of a given time reflected the themes inherent in the literature. They encouraged us to study the writings of Washington Irving and William Cullen Bryant alongside the works of painters in the Hudson River School. The "American as Exploiter" group took a more political stance and examined the relationship between Americans and the land upon which they lived and live. They argued that Americans exploit the earth's natural resources and use more than their share but still claim to care about the environment. Students in this group wanted to determine the origins of this conflicting stance. Hence, when we read William Bradford's Of Plymouth Plantation, they discussed how the Puritans, believers in Divine Providence, believed the land existed for their use as a God-given right. This contrasted with the later words of Ben Franklin and Henry David Thoreau, who recognized a need for give-and-take in the natural world. In addition to sharing their discoveries during the year, group members created and shared a synopsis of their findings at the end of the course. These final projects incorporated multimedia technology, posters, slide shows, demonstrations, and dramatic performances and provided an effective closure to our study of a year's worth of literature. THEORY A N D PRACTICE UNITE Because I was able eventually to let go and allow student interests and needs to drive the course, the benefits of interdisciplinary instruction, as described in the first part of this chapter, were achieved. For each of the examples cited above, students discovered real-world application of traditional literature and were able to make interesting and unique connections to several disciplines not traditionally discussed in the English classroom. The literature became a springboard for rich thinking and discussion rooted in concerns relevant to today's students. In addition, trusting my students forced me to focus on the process of learning, as opposed to the product; the course content was influenced by student needs rather than by my own limited vision. Admittedly, some pieces of literature contained in the textbook were not read because we took time to explore advertising, Utopian attempts in history, and the American character. However, students learned how to gather and evaluate material from several disciplines in the attempt to solve problems and explore questions of

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interest to t h e m , a skill sure to benefit t h e m as they leave the classroom a n d enter a society in w h i c h issues are complex a n d an a n s w e r key is n o t available. Further, retention a n d m o t i v a t i o n w e r e e n c o u r a g e d b y allowing s t u d e n t s to take o w n e r s h i p of the material they w e r e setting o u t to learn. This course w a s , ultimately, their course. I contributed, g u i d e d , a n d n u r t u r e d , b u t they took us to places I n e v e r anticipated or i m a g i n e d . I w a s initially d i s a p p o i n t e d that m y junior h i g h school colleagues d i d not w i s h to p u r s u e an integrated c u r r i c u l u m u s i n g a t e a m - t e a c h i n g m o d e l . Their hesitation, however, p r o v i d e d a challenge that a l l o w e d m e to learn along w i t h a n d alongside m y s t u d e n t s , facilitating m y g r o w t h as a professional a n d as a person. Ideally, I w o u l d like to see schools m o v e further in the direction of b e c o m i n g places of inquiry a n d exploration r a t h e r t h a n dissemination a n d evaluation, places in w h i c h teachers a n d s t u d e n t s ask p r e s s i n g questions a n d w o r k together to find potential solutions, places w h e r e i n k n o w l e d g e is acquired n o t for reasons of r e g u r g i t a t i o n b u t as a m e a n s to a richer, m o r e p r o d u c t i v e life. A d r e a m ? Perhaps. But, if n o t h i n g else, I h a v e learned that risks h a v e great r e w a r d s .

REFERENCES Beane, J. (1995). Curriculum integration and the disciplines of knowledge. Phi Delta Kappan, 76(8), pp. 616-622. Carducci, E.W., Dunham, H.R, Elsasser, G.H., & Lewthwaite, B.J. (1996-1997). Creating interdisciplinary courses: The agonies and the ecstasies. Journal of Staff Programming, and Organizational Development, 14, pp. 11-14. Edwards, J. (1741, July 8). Sinners in the hands of an angry God. Sermon delivered in Enfield, MA (later, Enfield, CT). Jacobs,H.H. (1989). Interdisciplinary curriculum: Design and implementation. Alexandria, VA: ASCD. Jacobs, H.H. (1991). The integrated curriculum. Instructor, 101, pp. 22-23. Kohl, H. (1976). On teaching. New York: Schocken. Perkins, D. (1991). Educating for insight. Educational Leadership, 49, pp. 4-8. Peters, T, Schubeck, K., & Hopkins, K. (1995). A thematic approach: Theory and practice at the Aleknagik School. Phi Delta Kappan, 76(8), pp. 633-636. Randle, I. (1997). The measure of success: Integrated thematic instruction. The Clearing House, 71, pp. 85-87. Stewart, W.J. (1990). Making learning come alive through subject-integrated instruction. American Secondary Education, 19, pp. 13-15. Willis, S. (1992). Interdisciplinary learning: Movement to link the disciplines gains momentum. In J. O'Neil (Ed.), Curriculum Update (pp. 1-8). Alexandria, VA: ASCD.

Chapter 11

Where Do We Go When We Step beyond the Boundaries? Douglas Kaufman, Terry A. Osborn, and David M. Moss

This last chapter arose out of a conversation among the three authors as we attempted to conceptualize and articulate our respective visions of, and for, transdisciplinary learning and teaching. As colleagues who work together under the umbrella of education, we also work independently within our own respective subdisciplines of literacy, foreign languages, and science. We each found our discipline by pursuing our individual passion, and we all deeply love our own discipline. At the same time, as hallway conversations flourished in our building, we recognized a common concern among us. We began to pinpoint what we felt were inadequacies in our own teaching and learning; and we started to empathize in our shared fear that the nation's larger educational agenda is moving us in a direction that dangerously fragments the curriculum, inhibiting our ability to see the forest for the trees and limiting our focus to the basest definitions of knowledge. We envisioned a system in which the disciplines served purposes beyond themselves, which might create visions we might not otherwise see. We decided to talk some more. To begin our dialogue we posed five questions to one another. Our conversation follows. H O W M U C H CONTENT-AREA KNOWLEDGE D O TEACHERS NEED TO HAVE TO A P P R O A C H T E A C H I N G A N D LEARNING FROM A TRANSDISCIPLINARY PERSPECTIVE? Terry Osborn: This question is deceptive. If one is asking how much content-area knowledge one needs to teach from a transdisciplinary perspective, then the answer is very little. If one is asking how much content-area

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knowledge one needs to recognize that he or she is teaching from a transdisciplinary perspective, the answer is likely a lot. Transdisciplinarity is probably best seen not as a simple binary proposition (in which one is either transdisciplinary or not), but as levels of sophistication. For example, it is certainly less difficult to see themes across disciplines than it is to generate hypotheses from one discipline to another. From a teacher preparation standpoint, I suggest that the best way to prepare teachers is to provide a strong content-area preparation coupled with a // contextualization ,/ of the limitations of a disciplinary knowledge field. In other words, students will need considerable exposure to the content area; but, as Arthur Costigan suggests in his chapter, constant attention to the transdisciplinary nature of knowledge will encourage teachers to make those connections on their own, and from the beginning. David Moss: I disagree with your introductory remark in which you note that very little content-area knowledge is required to teach from a transdisciplinary perspective. Of course, the irony in my challenge of your remark does not escape me in that I have worked tirelessly to move the science education community away from a coverage-of-content mentality and toward a holistic nature-of-science perspective, as noted in my chapter. However, as I think on this question, it quite simply seems to me that the deeper one's understanding of the various facets of the whole (see the introductory chapter for further clarification of this idea), the more apt one is to be able to see the possibilities of the connections. The question that remains for me deals with the notions of both the preparation of teachers and the staffing of public schools. Terry, you note that a "strong contentarea preparation coupled with a contextualization of the limitations of a disciplinary knowledge field" is preferable. It seems to me that you argue for both depth and breadth—is this an attainable goal given the current paradigm of disciplinary thinking? Does going deep in a content area require that this contextualization occur? Given the current state of affairs, I would answer an emphatic no. Deep content-area preparation seems myopic. It requires, as the old saying goes, learning more and more about less and less. Are you arguing for a reconceptualization of what it means to be well prepared in a content area? Once professionals are working in the field, the question of "one teacher, one class" seems to arise. Can we expect any one individual to be able to teach from a transdisciplinary perspective? Does the common middle school model have it "right" in terms of teams of content-area specialists working with cohorts of students? The authors of our invited chapters discuss from firsthand experiences the challenges of working with colleagues as they cross the boundaries—it seems to require a collaborative effort in some way. The implications of this are huge as we consider the very real boundaries of our classroom walls.

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Terry: Does a child think disciplinarily? Of course not. The positivistic bias of segmented knowledge is a learned epistemological framework—it is not innate. Therefore, little knowledge is required to teach interdisciplinarily. Instead, one has to learn all the arbitrary borders in order to identify when something crosses one of them. This is why I argue for contextualization of knowledge. Science teachers should know not only what science disciplinary knowledge (i.e., a deep content knowledge) is, but also what science disciplinary knowledge is not. I would leave that to you, a science educator, to describe for them. In terms of my field of language education, I would want teachers to know that language rules are descriptive (of the ways language speakers use the language), not prescriptive (determining how language should be used by all). This, as an example, would lead teachers to understand the limits of what we can or do teach them. It also suggests that the "authority" in a discipline is not the discipline itself, but the things /phenomena being studied. Doug Kaufman: It's interesting to me, Terry, that you begin this discussion with a statement that at least in part challenges the need for content knowledge and then move toward advocating for some strong content preparation, while you, David, argue for the need for content knowledge and then challenge the call for deeper content preparation. It is obvious that the question is more complicated than it initially appears. Here is my take: it is obvious that content knowledge is important for a member of any given discipline. It is the landscape through which the learner moves—without it there is no context or medium within which ideas can form—and it is usually the specific landscape that the discipline member seeks out, either consciously or subconsciously, because of her individual passions. This is the information that excites the learner, the information about which she wants to learn more, the information with which she wants to play and experiment. Because of this, strong content-area knowledge will be a characteristic of any competent discipline-bound scholar. Having said this, I think it is essential to recognize that content-area knowledge is correlational to the mastery of a discipline and not the cause of it. A bad historian, for instance, can memorize thousands of dates and historical happenings and still not understand the meaning of past events or their effects on the present and future. A bad historian does not necessarily know how to use the discipline to see the world in unique ways that can enhance growth and understanding in the larger context of living in a society with others. Because of this I argue that what makes someone a discipline expert is the ability to see the world from particular and unique perspectives, perspectives that have the potential to expand and enhance others 7 understandings of the world if they can learn to see through them, as well. Any given perspective lends itself to helping the scholar understand aspects of the world—how one looks at the world determines what

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one actually sees. But the content itself does not drive the relationship; rather, it is the way the scholar looks at the world. In other words, the good subject-area teacher knows about her content in relation to her conceptual understandings of the nature of her subject— the ways of seeing the world, the ways of being that it brings to the fore and that also help to define her as a mathematician, a biologist, a historian, or a writer, for example. At the same time, transdisciplinarity works to remove the notion that certain content matter is necessarily owned by any particular discipline, and we do not engage in transdisciplinary studies to meet outside requirements that identify exposure to specific content as the primary goal. Our goal is to find a problem or idea worth studying and bear the visions of multiple perspectives upon it in order to understand it more fully than if we were to observe it from a single vantage point. This understanding inevitably leads to content learning: in the process of using the disciplines in the same ways that a discipline expert would use them to view the world, students and teachers learn the content that attracted subject-area scholars to their discipline in the first place. However, the larger payoff is that students know how to use the content to continue to grow. HOW DO WE BEST PREPARE A TRANSDISCIPLINARY TEACHER CORPS? Terry: Perhaps one day in the future, this question will have a different answer. However, because most teacher educators are disciplinarytrained, it seems likely that a program like the one described by Artzt, Curcio, Sultan, and Wachter is a good starting point. Professors working with one another can make connections that students, with their limited disciplinary perspectives, cannot. This is not to be seen as a criticism of students. It should be seen as a natural by-product of the way we have prepared them. Again, though, I think it imperative that we contextualize the knowledge we present to them within its historical, political, and disciplinary settings. Helping students see the political nature of knowledge production, as recommended by critical pedagogues, will avail a much more effective transdisciplinary curriculum developer, instructional deliverer, and assessor. David: Although we began to address this within the context of the previous question, I still believe it is an essential element to discuss. Let us begin by looking at elementary versus secondary teacher preparation, as I believe we have much to learn from these two perspectives. I allude here to the generalist versus specialist modes of preparation. Is the generalist approach likely to better prepare teachers to understand and make use of a transdisciplinary approach to teaching and learning? Terry, you would

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most certainly argue "No." You would note that there is nothing inherent in a generalist approach that would explicitly provide preservice teachers with a perspective on the whole. They simply have shallow preparation within a greater number of disciplines, but nothing that helps them bind these areas together. I would agree but would also argue they're in better position to be able to transition into a transdisciplinary approach, in that a perspective on the "whole" is extremely difficult to achieve and that the more facets we have exposure to, the better. On the other hand, those who are steeped in their content area certainly have the benefit of seeing the possibilities of connections from their own discipline, if not a solid perspective of how the other disciplines link in to theirs. The question of depth versus breadth still remains... Doug: I don't see the answer to this question necessarily leading to the complete elimination of discipline divisions—the disciplines are boundaries that give shape to the very real and varied interests of different learners. But I do see the answer radically altering the way we teach preservice teacher courses and the way that teachers view their own disciplines. The primary difference just might be a shift in the focus of methods courses. Currently these courses attend primarily to specific methods, strategies, and activities used to teach the discipline's subject matter. Although these are important, context is usually lost when they are placed at the center of the curriculum— the isolated focus on methodology too often eliminates any emphasis on why and when a teacher should adopt particular methodologies. To prepare a well-educated transdisciplinary teacher corps, on the other hand, the focus needs to shift away from the mastery of isolated activities, at least as the ultimate aim of education. Instead, it must move toward understanding the nature of the given discipline and the unique ways of seeing the world that each discipline can offer to the exploration of a particular question or problem posed. We need to ask, for instance, "What is math?" and "How do mathematicians see the world?" before and during the examination of a topic. I propose, Terry and David, that these are questions that can best be answered when both the generalist and the discipline scholar sit down and discuss. Debating these questions while defining the disciplines as lenses will help teachers develop the tools and perspectives needed to help their students see through the discipline and into the larger landscape. David: I very much like your notion of lenses. For me it nicely connotes a means by which one can look through a discipline to see it for what it really is. Would it require that we totally reconceptualize teacher preparation programs to ensure that our teacher corps is adequately geared up to facilitate learning from a transdisciplinary perspective? In his chapter, Costigan recommends we look at foundations courses as the vehicle to promote cross-boundary thinking; and, Doug, you note methods courses may serve that purpose. The challenge goes beyond individual courses

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within teacher education programs. As we consider the "apprenticeship through experience" phenomena in teacher preparation (teachers teaching in the way they were taught for all their years as students, regardless of any formal preparation), we see our challenge goes beyond the boundaries of our program. Although significant changes may be needed within teacher education, we cannot go it alone. WHAT IMPACT DOES ASSESSMENT HAVE ON CURRICULUM (AND A TRANSDISCIPLINARY PERSPECTIVE)? Terry: Assessment is currently being aligned with accountability instead of being defined as the teacher's tool to evaluate student mastery of material. As a result, the ability of teachers to utilize a transdisciplinary perspective will be stymied. If the standards recognize the importance of forming interdisciplinary linkages for students, then it follows that standardized tests will need to do so as well. Unfortunately, I doubt this is or will be manifest in any significant sense. Thus, it is probable that transdisciplinary perspectives will be less likely, given the current political constellations in educational programming. In terms of assessing transdisciplinarity, I believe we are only at a point of genesis. Most of the research to date has focused on evaluating curricula (such as Ackerman's criteria) or prescribing inputs. Almost no one has begun to consider that a knowledge "product" should or could be evaluated in terms of its transdisciplinarity. There is much work to be done in this regard, and at the outset are questions of power. Who decides what constitutes transdisciplinarity? Should it be constituent disciplinary experts, or will we create a new "discipline" of transdisciplinary experts who evaluate such things? It truly becomes paradoxical at some point. David: The veneer of accountability brought on by extensive standardized testing will most certainly work against a transdisciplinary approach to learning and teaching. Allow me to draw upon my own recent experiences for a moment. Within the past year I have worked on a committee charged with explicating a vision for science education reform. The most challenging element of that process was balancing the curricular vision with assessment. Basically, it boils down to the question of "Who's driving the bus?" Those who see education only through an assessment lens seem to bring a very narrow vision of what ought to be taught in schools. I suppose their thinking is that the cleaner the concept(s) to be taught (not necessarily learned), the easier it is to generate test items. Education is, however, a normative endeavor. I strongly believe that curriculum guided by a strong philosophical position should be driving education—assessment should not. Let's first decide what we want our children to know and be able to do. Assessment is certainly a facet of curriculum, but a

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vision for learning must first be in place. The vision of transdisciplinary learning and teaching is promising from a number of perspectives outlined throughout the various chapters in this book. Do we abandon such a vision of the "whole" merely because the assessment strategies that currently maintain a death grip on education are not consistent with these ideals? I think not. Perhaps the next step is consider which assessment strategies may be more complementary to this perspective. Doug: I will take issue with something that each of you has said, but first I think it is clear that we are all on the same page in regard to the damaging effects of current national assessment trends. If you define assessment by the nation's growing reliance on high-stakes standardized testing, then assessment does affect transdisciplinarity by making it impossible to create, at least for the faint of heart. The problem is this: to standardize a test for use with a large population, one must tightly narrow the boundaries of the knowledge, skills, abilities, and potentials being assessed. With millions of students being tested, one can't consider the complete value of the student as a learner and doer. It would be too costly, labor intensive, and time consuming. In assessing writing, for example, one cannot focus on more complicated matters like the multifaceted qualities of written expression that make it intriguing to a reader or the ability to craft a powerful argument over time (and time is one of the most important conditions for the professional writer). Instead, we are forced to quantify the value of a single small product—produced in a very artificial situation— using a very narrow set of criteria. Now, some of the information gleaned through a standardized test might be valuable to a teacher if considered properly. The teacher might obtain a quick snapshot of how a whole class is doing in a particular, isolated area of writing—perhaps elements of grammar usage that help a writer communicate meaning more effectively. However, the vicious, high-stakes nature of these tests ensures that they will never be considered properly. Because school districts must pass these tests or face the dire consequences, administrators and teachers assuredly will focus only on those elements they know will be on the test. The result is a narrowing—a radical dumbing-down—of the curriculum that is diametric to the purposes of transdisciplinarity. Instead of moving beyond the boundaries of the disciplines we are forced to narrow those boundaries and never risk venturing outside of them. Now, I offer my disagreements with your assertions. David, first I would argue that assessment (or to use the terminology I prefer, evaluation) very much is what should drive what happens in school, depending on how we define it and its uses. It cannot be a mere afterthought but really is at the center of the curriculum. If we look at assessment and evaluation as a continual reflection by both teachers and students about their more holistic learning processes as well as their products, rather than as a

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simplistic documentation of content knowledge, suddenly its rightful place at the center of the curriculum becomes clear. We want to be able to evaluate students—and have students be able to evaluate themselves—as to their abilities and their potential to find information and knowledge, make sense of it, use it in real-life situations, and create their own knowledge. We want them to see evaluation as an affirmation of value and to be able to create goals and plans to increase value. Evaluation becomes less of an abstract judgment of product at a narrow point in time and more of a useful tool for educational and social growth. Terry, that is why I disagree with your statement that assessment might be better defined as a "teacher's tool to evaluate student mastery of material." I would argue that this focus on material launches us back into the same old paradigm whereby we identify discrete subject matter that has been given the title "important" by some arbitrary standards system and then determine who has memorized it best. This is what standardized tests can do well. What they cant do well is measure the deeper modes of understanding and ability that give certain subject matter true importance when the scholar has to use it for real purposes. I think this is the problem against which David is arguing in his response to you. Ultimately, for a transdisciplinary curriculum to be legitimate, we must change our views on what is important to assess and how we assess it. Obviously, to assess more richly and more deeply, responsibility for assessment and evaluation has to move back into the classroom, into the hands of students and teachers. Instead of assessing any particular skill or product as if it, by itself, showed the student's ability to think, navigate the culture, and become a productive and fulfilled citizen, we need to consider the student's work, thinking, and products over time. We must recognize that the student's ability to see through the lenses of different disciplines in order to meet real ends defines educational value. And we also need to see the student's work through a variety of lenses. In other words, we need to assess in a transdisciplinary fashion, as well. WHAT DOES A SCHOOL LOOK LIKE FROM AN ORGANIZATIONAL STANDPOINT TO FOSTER A TRANSDISCIPLINARY PERSPECTIVE? Terry: I suggest that the organizational perspective is less important than the way teachers are viewed and the way they view their work. If teachers are seen as technicists, it really makes little difference how we organize the schools. On the other hand, as teachers can view themselves and are facilitated in their work as cultural and intellectual change agents, then a transdisciplinary perspective can be fostered. Otherwise, it seems that we are simply rearranging deck chairs on an intellectual Titanic, as the saying goes.

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David: Perhaps you have considered the notion of organization from too narrow a perspective. Let's take a step back for a moment. Organization should encompass not merely the physical plant of a school, but the academic and procedural elements of public schooling. Although I agree that teacher preparation (professional development) issues along with curricular concerns may be precursors to some extent, the broad notion of organization is just as critical. Let's begin with the physical plant. Confining individual teachers to isolated classrooms seems counter to the notion of a transdisciplinary perspective regardless of how the desks are arranged. I believe that we have learned our lessons from the "open classroom" experiments of the 1970s, but there must be a workable solution in there somewhere. Conceptual organization, although perhaps more complicated on many levels, may provide an easier target for reform. Again, let's consider the middle school model of teams of teachers and cohorts of students. One can, I believe, easily imagine a school day that adequately accommodates this reality from a transdisciplinary perspective, given the aforementioned precursors (no small matter, to be sure). Doug: I'd like to consider the notion of organization from an even wider perspective, David. Organization is a reflection and a practical manifestation of the underlying philosophy of the institution, and for that reason it is a crucial component of the school's milieu. Looked at from an administrative perspective, the transdisciplinary school's organization is highly democratic and embraces of a variety of visions and viewpoints. There is a concerted attempt to eliminate the insular world of the individual teacher's classroom in favor of a culture where teachers invite one another in on a regular basis. While the subject area teacher should not abandon his or her personal passions, the teacher must resist the natural inclination to become possessive about the discipline, its subject matter, and its activities. Instead, the teacher begins to ask what the perspectives of other disciplines might offer his or her own knowledge base and what his or her discipline might offer to the other disciplines. Transdisciplinary teachers have a much greater role in the larger decisionmaking processes of the school. Transdisciplinary teachers have more scheduled prep time together to plan more complicated investigations. Teachers in this school are unafraid of change and, in fact, strive to foster continual change to encourage growth. In terms of physical space, a transdisciplinary classroom organizes itself to promote the teachers' and students' abilities to access a variety of information and promote the learning of how to access and process information. Students must be able to move in order to engage in transdisciplinary work. Although there still might be a "science" or a "math" room, the space must be able to accommodate the work that results from the utilization of various disciplines—the subject area classroom is much less pro-

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scriptive toward other disciplines. In other words, each classroom is viewed as the part of a larger whole, possessing certain qualities that allow learners to examine the problem from unique perspectives, but also promoting an understanding of the crucial links among the perspectives, which moves the pursuit beyond any one discipline. In terms of procedures and logistics, a transdisciplinary expedition serves to foster independent creativity and thought and to expand the ways we look at the world. The transdisciplinary classroom therefore creates procedural systems that educate students to operate independently, instead of creating systems that exclusively facilitate the uninterrupted flow of subject knowledge from the teacher to the student. This organization is much more complex than it is in a traditional transmissionist model, because it carries the added burden of teaching students how to explore and ponder independently. Therefore, the teacher devotes a great deal of instructional time not only to subject matter but to procedures that help students channel and exploit newfound freedoms. WHAT BENEFITS DO WE SEE FROM A LITERACY PERSPECTIVE AS AN OUTCOME OF TRANSDISCIPLINARY TEACHING A N D LEARNING (WITH LITERACY DEFINED IN THE BROADEST POSSIBLE SENSE)? Terry: It is likely that Freire's sense of multiple literacies, including reading the world and the word, will be affected as we reach for transdisciplinary teaching and learning. The relationship will not be one-way, however. It will most certainly be symbiotic. As teachers and students recognize the context of knowledge, including sociopolitical factors that influence the production and classification of knowledge, they will be able to emancipate their thinking in terms of disciplinary limits. Having achieved that liberation, to whatever degree, the process of inquiry will lead to a greater understanding of the sociopolitical contexts of other knowledge bases. It rests in large part on the ability of educational programmers to challenge existing structures in schooling not only organizationally but also epistemologically. Otherwise, we may well see growth within disciplines and a sporadic growth of interdisciplinarity; but the political interests that protect the sanctity of traditional disciplinary approaches to knowledge production will prevail, and literacy will not expand to its fullest potential. David: So how are we defining literacy here? Let's get specific. Doug: I've struggled for a long time to find the perfect answer to that question! For now I'll define it as the ability to use a medium or concept in such a way that I can make meaning from it, communicate, contribute to

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the larger social conversation, and derive pleasure and satisfaction from it. When I define a discipline as a way of seeing the world, I am talking about a specific literacy, and I am also alluding to the ultimate aim of education—to be able to understand in complicated ways and to be able to use my vision for personal growth and the greater social good. They are all tied together. Worthwhile education courts complexity, and transdisciplinarity is the practical embodiment of the pursuit of complexity and holism. Yes, Freire's clarion call to learn to read the world as well as the word resonates loudly here. If one looks at the professional literature today, one sees that almost every field has adopted the term literacy to define its members' understanding of the nature of their discipline, its uses, and their ability to use it (one sees reference to science literacy, math literacy, technological literacy, etc.). The members of each discipline are literate in the discipline in ways unique to the discipline. Thus, any discipline's boundaries can never be completely erased for the sake of some false curricular togetherness. At the same time, the power of transdisciplinarity is in the various discipline members' recognition of the inevitable connections among their disciplines and their power in, together, offering a deeper, clearer picture of our world. Clifford Geertz, in discussing culture, talked about "webs of significance" that tied the parts of a community into a larger whole. Travel the web to envision new landscapes, but recognize that you are never removed from where you were or where you will go. Recognize the connections among the landscapes and analyze how they create a multidimensional vision of existence, and the benefits are clear: we are better able to understand those whom we previously misunderstood. We are more empathic. We have a better sense of where our next steps might lead us. We are better able to travel the multitudinous corners of the world, if not as experts, then at least as informed and welcomed guests. We become individuals who can make greater sense of society and work toward its betterment. EPILOGUE There is a sense in which our conversation resolves nothing. Perhaps it should not, for, as we have proposed in the writing of this text, we believe that "each discipline provides a narrow, bounded perspective on knowledge and experience that illuminates one or more facets of the dynamic whole but cannot illuminate the whole by itself. Consequently, multiple disciplines are required to elucidate the whole." Knowledge is by its nature transdisciplinary and, therefore, so is a meta-analysis of transdisciplinarity: we must investigate the concept itself through a variety of lenses. No single voice can provide closure to the questions raised in this text. We will not feign that our small group can, either.

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We can, however, suggest that readers add their voices to the grand conversation. As we each continue to stare at the multiple dimensions of transdisciplinary teaching and learning and share our observations with our colleagues, we will begin to appreciate and approach the complexity and beauty of the whole.

Index

American Association for the Advancement of Science, (AAAS), 48, 49, 54, 56-57, 58, 62, 63 American Council of Teachers of Foreign Language (ACTFL), 34, 36 American Social History Project, 84 A Nation at Risk: National Commission on Excellence in Education, 17, 56, 62 Art education, 108-9, 131, 134, 135, 138-40 Asher,R., 131, 135 Assessment, 10, 27, 160-62 Bates, J. K., 131-32, 133-34 Bilingual education, 36, 93, 120-22 Bilingual Education Act, 117-18, 126 Borba, M. C, 127 Boundaries, 14, 25, 28, 35 Brainstorming in pedagogy, 99-101, 151, 156 Brickhouse, N. W., 51 Byrnes, H., 35 Calculator Based Laboratory (CBL), 75-76 CALLA, 125-26 Chamot,A.U, 125-26

Clowning, 90, 91 Cognitive Academic Language Learning Approach (CALLA), 125-26 Commonsense ideology, 16-17 Constructivist teaching, 16-17, 59, 60, 74 Content, 50 Cooperative learning, 75 Coughlin, K., 83-84 Critical inquiry, 33-34 Critical Language Inquiry Cycle (CLIC), 8, 34, 38-40, 41-44 Cross-disciplinary, 35. Also see Integrated curriculum; Interdisciplinary; Transdisciplinary Curricular development, 4-5, 10, 13, 38, 48, 56 Dance education, 137 DeBoer, G. E., 56 DeweyJ., 18-20, 57-58, 105-6, 111 Disciplines, 7, 23, 25, 28, 106, 107-11 Documentation, 141-42 Educational reform, 2, 54-64 Eisner, 134 English as a Second Language (ESL), 122

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English Language Learners (ELLs), 9, 78, 117-20, 122 Epistemology, 3, 5, 11, 13 Ethno-mathematics, 126-28 Ethno-science, 126-28

Lincoln Center Institute (LCI), 20-22, 84, 87-89, 90-93 Literacy, 164-65 Loving, C. C., 51, 54 Lucas,!., 120-21

Faltis,C.J., 121 Foreign Language, 34, 35 Foreign language learning, 8, 33, 38 Freire, P., 128, 164, 165

Martell, A., 38 Mathematics, 69 Mayher,]., 16-18 Meeth,L. R., 6, 15, 102 Meichtry, Y. J., 50 Metalinguistic knowledge, 38 Minicucci, C., 123 Moore,]. A., 49 Moss, D.M., 47, 52-53, 59 Multicultural, 78, 126-28 Multidisciplinary, 15, 19, 86. Also see Interdisciplinary;Transdisciplinary Murals, 9, 69, 131-36, 140-43 Murray D.M., 102-5, 110 Mutual critical reflection (MCR), 41-42, 44

Garcia E., 120 Glenn Commission, 69. Also see National Commission on Excellence in Education GLOBE Program, 60 Goodlad, ]., 69 Graves, D., 26, 106-10 Greene, M, 137, 143 Herman, D. M., 37 Inductive analysis, 40 Inquiry, 56 Integrated curriculum, 3, 4, 9, 98, 99, 132, 145, 147-53 Integrated design, 98-99 Integrated learning, 146-47 Interdisciplinary, 3, 4, 14, 18, 24, 27, 28, 33, 35, 70, 73, 75, 77, 78, 82, 83-84, 87, 91, 97-98, 120, 131-32, 143, 149, 153. Also see Cross-disciplinary; Integrated curriculum; Transdisciplinary Interdisciplinary teaching, 131, 133, 147 International Workers of the World (IWW), 81 Jacobs, H., 5, 6, 14, 97, 98-100, 113, 146, 147 Kimball, M., 49 Kramsch, C., 33 Krashen,S., 122, 123 Language, 33, 36 Lederman, N. G., 52, 55 Lincoln Center, 92-93

NASA, 62 Nation at Risk, 17, 56 National Board for Professional Teaching Standards (NBPTS), 56 National Center for Educational Statistics, 52 National Commission on Excellence in Education, 17. Also set' Glenn Commission National Council for Accreditation of Teacher Education (NCATE), 26 National Council for the Social Studies, 85, 86 National Council of Teachers of Mathematics, 69 National Research Council, 48-50, 51, 54, 62, 63 National Science Foundation, 55-69 National Science Teachers Association, 48 National Standards, 9, 60, 83 National Standards in Foreign Language Education Project, 34-35 Nature of science, 8, 47-57, 59, 60

Index Nature of science model, 53 NCATE, 26 Noguchi, 21,89,96 NSTA, 48 Ogle, D., 112 O'Malley, J.M., 125-26 Oral history, 135 Organization of American Historians, 85 Osborn, T. A., 37-38,39 Personal perspectives & stories, 135 Pre-service education, 69-71,87,88, 156,158-60 Problem-based education, 146 Process in science, 50 Professional development, 70-73,124, 163 Project Based Science Education, 57-60 Project Learning Tree, 62 Project THEME, 120-21 Project 2061,49, 55-57,57, 61, 62 Ravitch, D., 23 Riechard, D. E., 55 Scholl, I., 43 Science, 56-57,60,62 Science literacy, 54-57, 59,61,64 Sheltered instruction, 122-24 Sheltered instruction observation protocol (SIOP), 124. Also see SIOP SIOP, 124

169 Social Studies, 9,19,85,86-87 Socrates Sculpture Garden, 20 Solomon, J., 34 Space race, 55-56 Standardized testing, 56, 83,160-61 Standards based instruction, 69,86 Stanley, W. B., 51 State teaching standards, CA, 122 State teaching standards, NY, 26,138-39 Student-centered learning, 2,9,19, 75 Subject-discipline, 7,17,24,98 Swaffar, J., 35-36 Teachers of English to Speakers of Other Languages (TESOL), 36 Techniques, 140 Thematic organization, 14,136,148 TIME 2000,69-73, 74 Traditional teaching, 17 Transdisciplinary, 6, 7-9, 61, 63-64, 83, 87, 89,94,97,102,104-10,114,126, 128,155,158-59,161,163. Also see Cross disciplinary; Integrated curriculum; Interdisciplinary Transdisciplinary model of learning, 110-12 Tyler, R.W., 4-6,12-14 Unifying concepts of Science, 62, 63 Whelen, M., 82 Whitehead, A. N., 57 White Rose, 43 Willis S., 145,147,148 Writing to learn, 103-6

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About the Contributors

Alice F. Artzt is Professor of Mathematics Education, Queens College, City University of New York (CUNY). Her research interests include cooperative and peer learning, mathematical problem solving, secondary mathematics teacher preparation, and teachers' cognitions and cognitive processes. She is project director of TIME 2000: A Math Teaching Program. Rikki Asher has taught art in comprehensive junior high schools and alternative high schools for 15 years in the South Bronx and East Harlem. Since 1995, Professor Asher has been a teaching artist at the Lincoln Center Institute, working with the Museum of Modern Art, the Whitney Museum, and the American Crafts Museum. In this role, she trains teachers in the tri-state area through aesthetic education and she brings elementary and secondary students into the museums to discover, appreciate, and discuss works of art. She received her bachelor of arts degree and master of fine arts degree in painting from Lehman College, CUNY, and she earned her doctorate in art education from Columbia University Teachers College. Currently Asher is Director of Art Education at Queens College, CUNY, and Assistant Professor, teaching art students to become art teachers. From 1993 to 1995, when she was Assistant Professor of Art Education at SUNY New Paltz, she also served as Director and founder of the London Art Seminar, an intensive, college-level visual arts course. She has to her credit murals throughout the United States, and she is a painter and printmaker who exhibits work in museums and galleries nationally, internationally, and electronically.

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Arthur Costigan is Assistant Professor of Education and Co-director of the English Education Program at Queens College, CUNY. Currently he also is the secondary education liaison to the New York City Teaching Fellows Program, a program to attract teachers from nontraditional backgrounds to teach in schools in poor, urban districts. Arthur was a high school teacher in New York City public high schools for 13 years before receiving his doctorate in education from New York University in 2000. Current research interests include how new teachers come to understand their role as teacher, as well as how they come to understand the teaching craft, particularly in poor, urban districts. Other research interests include best practices in teaching language and literacy to an increasingly diverse population of students. Along with Elizabeth Dykman, he is the recipient of the 2003 Distinguished Research in Teacher Education Award from the Association of Teacher Educators for the study "Finding a name for what they want: A study of New York City's teaching fellows." He is currently writing a book that features the stories and narratives of new teachers. Frances R. Curcio is Professor of Mathematics Education in the Department of Secondary Education and Youth Services at Queens College, CUNY. Her research interests include graph comprehension and language and communication in mathematics. Part of her teaching time is spent at the Louis Armstrong Middle School, East Elmhurst, New York. Dr. Curcio is a former member of the Board of Directors of the National Council of Teachers of Mathematics (NCTM), and she was the general editor for the 1999-2001 NCTM yearbooks. She is principal evaluator for a teacher enhancement project in Community School District Two, Manhattan. David Gerwin is Assistant Professor of Secondary Education at Queens College and co-director of the college's social studies program. He holds a doctorate in American history from Columbia University and a Master of Arts degree in social studies education from Columbia University Teachers College. He has written Teaching U.S. History As Mystery with coauthor Jack Zevin. Prior to joining the Queens College faculty in 1997, Dr. Gerwin was a high school teacher in Maryland, a program associate with The Constitution Works in New York City, and a member of the history department at Central Connecticut State University. Wendy J. Glenn, Assistant Professor in Curriculum and Instruction in the Neag School of Education at the University of Connecticut, specializes in the preparation of secondary school English teachers. She began her career as a junior and senior high school English and language arts educator in the public school system of Mesa, Arizona. She currently teaches

About the Contributors

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methods courses that encourage students to identify connections across disciplines and shares her work at conferences and in journals at both local and national levels. Mileidis Gort is Assistant Professor of Bilingual Education in the Department of Curriculum and Instruction at the Neag School of Education, University of Connecticut. Her research examines the bilingual and biliteracy development of English- and Spanish-dominant bilingual learners in dual-language programs, as well as developmental, authentic assessment of biliteracy. She was recently awarded first place in the AERA/Bilingual Education Research Special Interest Group competition and the NABE Outstanding Dissertation competition, and she recently earned the National Reading Conference's Multicultural Award for promising scholars in the literacy field. Douglas Kaufman is Assistant Professor of Curriculum and Instruction and specializes in literacy education at the University of Connecticut's Neag School of Education. He is the author of Conferences and Conversations: Listening to the Literate Classroom (Heineman 2000). His work has appeared in Language Arts, English Journal, and Thinking Classroom/Peremena. He currently teaches graduate and undergraduate courses in literacy education and writing. David M. Moss currently holds a faculty appointment as an Assistant Professor in the Department of Curriculum and Instruction at the University of Connecticut's Neag School of Education. His current research interests lie in the areas of standards-based science education reform and teacher education. As both a science educator and scientist, Dr. Moss has published over 20 articles in the areas of environmental science and science education, addressing such diverse topics as technology and education, students' understandings of the nature of science, and regional monitoring of forest health utilizing satellite capabilities. At the University of Connecticut he currently offers a course on integrated methods along with a series of courses that deal with various issues of science education reform. Terry A. Osborn is Assistant Professor of Educational Studies and Second Language Education in the Department of Curriculum and Instruction at the University of Connecticut's Neag School of Education. He is author of Critical Reflection and the Foreign Language Classroom, editor of The Future of Foreign Language Education in the United States, and co-author of The Foreign Language Educator in Society: Toward a Critical Pedagogy. His areas of research interest include critical pedagogy and literature in the language classroom,

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and his work has appeared in Educational Studies, Educational Foundations, Multicultural Education, NECTL Review, and Foreign Language Annals. Alan Sultan is Professor of Mathematics, Queens College, CUNY and is one of the original members of the TIME 2000 Project Staff. He has developed innovative courses in applications-based linear algebra and operations research and has been active in the implementation of calculus reform materials. Tara Wachter is a mathematics teacher at Herricks Middle School, Herricks, New York. She graduated from Queens College in 2002 as a member of the first TIME 2000 graduating class. At the time the chapter was written, she was in the final stages of her student teaching.