Challenges in Global Learning : Dealing with Education Issues from an International Perspective [1 ed.] 9781443899802

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Challenges in Global Learning

Challenges in Global Learning: Dealing with Education Issues from an International Perspective Edited by

Ania Lian, Peter Kell, Paul Black and Koo Yew Lie

Challenges in Global Learning: Dealing with Education Issues from an International Perspective Edited by Ania Lian, Peter Kell, Paul Black and Koo Yew Lie This book first published 2017 Cambridge Scholars Publishing Lady Stephenson Library, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2PA, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2017 by Ania Lian, Peter Kell, Paul Black, Koo Yew Lie and contributors All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-4438-9980-1 ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-9980-2

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction ................................................................................................. 1 Theme 1 - Knowledges and Epistemologies The Master’s by Coursework Degree: A Case Study in Innovation in Global Learning at Charles Darwin University ..................................... 22 Peter Kell The Business of Education: Critical Reflections ....................................... 41 Brian Mooney Riding the Throughflow: Seeking Cultural Humility to Navigate Some Challenges in Conducting Cross-Cultural Research and Education............................................................................. 52 Sue Erica Smith Theme 2 – Identity Language and Culture Evidence and Culture in the Global Literacy Education Competition – and Other Possibilities ............................................................................... 70 Peter Freebody Internationalisation and Student Security in Higher Education: Exploring PluriEnglish(es) in Global Learning ......................................... 95 Koo Yew Lie Direct Instruction for “At-risk Children” and the Australian Curriculum: Toward a better Understanding of the Appeal of Behaviourism in Cross-cultural Contexts of Learning.................................................... 123 Ania Lian, Amy Norman, Kath Midgley and Cindy Napiza Hastening Quickly and Slowly: Seeking To Address Indigenous Australian Literacy .............................. 142 Melissa Kelaart and Sue Erica Smith

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Table of Contents

Globalisation and the Indigenous Community ........................................ 158 Tania Tamaotai and Yoshi Budd Capacity-building Approaches for Teachers in Remote Northern Territory Schools: Challenges and Opportunities .................... 176 Katrina Railton Theme 3 – Wellbeing Sustainability and Globalisation Strengthening the Foundations of Learning: Investing in Early Childhood Development ............................................ 192 Sven Silburn Strategies for Enhancing Student Wellbeing and School Engagement in a Remote Indigenous School .......................................... 214 Nick Hancock Bilateral Engagements and Capacity Development: Understanding the Context of the Educational Reform in Timor-Leste .......................... 236 Therese Kersten The Impact of Skilled Migration on the Philippines................................ 255 Dawnie Amante Tagala Economic Productivity and Global Education: A Critique...................... 268 Sonya Mackenzie Theme 4 - Digital Futures and New Learning The Inexorable Rise of the Proletarian Autodidact.................................. 282 Andrew-Peter Lian A Dialogic, Evidence-based Framework for Integrating Technology into School Curricula ........................................................... 314 Ania Lian and Amy Norman Academic Writing as Aesthetics Applied: Creative Use of Technology to Support Multisensory Learning ............. 350 Ania Lian, Adam Bodnarchuk, Andrew Lian and Cindy Napiza

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But I can practise Piano on my iPad ........................................................ 375 Justina Fernandes and Jon Mason Contributors ............................................................................................. 394

INTRODUCTION ANIA LIAN CHARLES DARWIN UNIVERSITY, AUSTRALIA

About this Volume For educators, researchers and postgraduate students, the research contributions in this volume offer a broad range of cross-disciplinary approaches for framing and addressing issues which currently shape global education. Cross-disciplinary communication helps maximise the impact of stakeholder voices on educational contexts of all kinds, resulting in gains through improved understandings of factors which affect and interact with learning (and teaching). This volume is the product of an original approach to this commitment to internationalisation and synergetic research. Its contributions bring together an international team of cross-disciplinary researchers and an international cohort of master’s by coursework students from the School of Education, Charles Darwin University (CDU), Australia, in a context of collaboration, mentorship and mutual learning. The purpose of including research by the coursework students in the volume is twofold. Firstly, postgraduate coursework programs at Charles Darwin University attract professionals from Australia and overseas whose jobs often place them at the forefront of change. These students are witness to tensions and conflicts which researchers explore but which they do not necessarily always experience first-hand. Their work responsibilities construct them as objects of change as well as its managers. Straddling the fault-lines of policies and the realities on the ground, these students offer unique insights into the conditions which affect them as good teachers, leaders and community builders. Their research work as presented in this volume is a testimony of these experiences and a rare opportunity for them to share with the research community at large the concerns which matter to them, their colleagues and their communities, while learning to perform high level research.

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Secondly, most of the coursework students enter postgraduate programs without a clear understanding of the work that is involved in order to complete the program, together with the program’s relationship to their immediate workplaces, future directions and “high level” research. The sharing by academics of their students’ assignments from previous semesters or years, while very useful, is likely to be insufficient in this regard. Therefore, it is typically the case that, each year, students are left to their own resources to construct their own big picture of the program and of research (and its place in their lives) while, at the same time, grappling with the more immediate requirements of their coursework. The inclusion of the students’ work in this volume is a deliberate strategy to reflect the links they create among their own research interests; the research activities of their mentors with cross-disciplinary orientations from different schools and institutions around the world, with whom they work at various levels of contribution; and the issue of global learning as the overriding context. Students reading this volume will benefit by comparing and contrasting the different aspects of research reflected in its contributions. Inter alia, this includes differences in the scope of the work involved in the various articles, the ways in which different disciplines construct their inquiry, the problematics they engage, and the processes they develop in order to be of value to the community. Furthermore, the research performed by the coursework students and included in this volume also demonstrates collaboration among students from different programs and different units of study, as well as different years of program delivery. It exemplifies strategies for engaging a range of stakeholders, professional and academic networks, partnerships and experts through existing projects, co-publishing, student-initiated interviews and questionnaires, building of networks between research and coursework students and the alumni, and through focused events. For example, this volume emerged from an international symposium organised by CDU’s International Graduate Centre of Education (IGCE) team on Challenges in Global Learning. The symposium served to flag the relevance of cross-disciplinary concepts and frameworks in the coursework and research programs, promote links among institutions, stakeholders, international colleagues and IGCE adjuncts, and the participant students, as well as among and within the faculty structures of the university. For non-students/educators, this volume contains the seed of a cuttingedge experimental model for the upgrading of coursework students’ research skills as well as recognising that coursework enrollees are not

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limited to the content of courses but can also make significant contributions to knowledge: they are not an intellectual desert. This is very much in the spirit of the recommendations of the report of the Boyer Commission on Educating Undergraduates in the Research University (1998), which argued for democratisation of research “through a synergistic system in which faculty and students are learners and researchers” (p. 11). Several qualities distinguish this volume. First is its content. It assembles in a comprehensive manner research illustrating cross-disciplinary approaches to issues which impact on global learning. Second is its focus on four key themes, which have both conceptual and applied foci and are influential in shaping understandings and applications of educational practice. Finally, distinguishing this volume are its contributors, who represent the fields of both “research” and “practice” and address the changes in and challenges of global learning.

Research Themes The research themes of the volume draw on current strategic research priorities in Australian education, which together form a well rounded framework for approaching and evaluating educational change and developments locally and globally. They include Knowledges and Epistemologies; Identity, Language and Culture; Wellbeing, Sustainability and Globalisation; and Digital Futures and New Learning. Each theme is opened with publications by prominent scholars with international experience and standing in the area of their expertise, followed by research contributions by, or with, the master’s by coursework students, which illustrate the different forms of collaboration that ensued. The following summary of each theme includes a brief description of its focus and scope, followed by summaries of the individual chapters that relate to the theme.

Knowledges and Epistemologies Investigations within this theme recognise that the way we understand many current global problems and their solutions has much to do with how we understand the processes of knowing. This includes an understanding

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of how knowledge practices are shaped by social contexts and are subject to stasis as well as dynamic change, with education being an important site for change within these dynamics. The contributions in this theme highlight ongoing debates about the complexity of human interactions and the kinds of motivations as well as tensions which emerge from such interactions in education. These debates are investigated through the theoretical perspectives that progress visions and actions for the future of education. These perspectives include interrogating the positioning of traditional knowledge of and in the disciplines and evaluating possibilities for ethical and interdisciplinary approaches to leadership, teaching, learning and communication in general. This theme opens with a chapter by Peter Kell, “The master’s by coursework degree: A case study in innovation in global learning at Charles Darwin University”. Against the background of the history of the needs and controversies that have shaped the master’s degree in Europe, the United States, Great Britain, and Australia, Kell illustrates the intellectual framework that informed the design of the newly-developed Master of Education (International) coursework program in Charles Darwin University. Kell attributes the growing popularity of the master’s degree to a shift in the utility of the degree as influenced by its professionalisation, the growth of internationalisation and the impact of online learning. The professionalisation of the degree brings with it challenges relating to the kind of knowledge that might satisfy external compliance requirements. These include questions of balance between theoretical and practical knowledge and the legitimacy of the “situated knowledge” that professionals bring with them into their studies. The learning framework for the new Master of Education (International) program proposed by Kell was designed specifically for questions of this kind to emerge and provide students with opportunities to respond and to develop informed and critical perspectives that access global experience relevant to their own contexts. In the chapter “The business of education: Critical reflections”, Brian Mooney examines what a democratic and participatory process of knowledge production should look like, the concept of a professional degree and the world views which feed these images. He juxtaposes what he argues to be the current prevalent preference for narrow and specialised research, which repeats its own truths in order to create a false sense of security, with perspectives that see knowledge as a process of gathering differences, and therefore searching for “danger” in order to test their own vulnerability. To better understand this phenomenon, Mooney develops a

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series of vignettes that draw parallels between the tactics of pigeon-holing, which incite different forms of violence, and the strategies connected with being a “global citizen” who builds connections by questioning the comforts of the status quo. These parallels present a powerful framework for readers to evaluate their own views. However, the idea of building knowledge through subversive participation is threatening. As Mooney points out, these concepts put pressure on the system, a system that may not be prepared to support and give justice to personally-relevant growth and learning. The chapter by Sue Smith, “Riding the Throughflow: Seeking cultural humility to navigate some challenges in conducting cross-cultural research and education”, directs the discussion toward the students, especially international students, and the terms by which they identify their own “situation” and the forces which shape what, for them, is not only legitimate knowledge, but also fair and ethical participation in knowledgebuilding and sharing. Throughout the chapter, Smith weaves autobiographical reflections into her discussion of the ethics of the internationalisation of postgraduate programs. The theoretical framework of the chapter navigates between the poetic and the pragmatic. The metaphor of “the waters of the Throughflow” that connect the Pacific and Indian oceans highlights the turbulence and clashes that intercultural encounters can unleash while also offering opportunities for growth, freshness and new life. Smith digs deep to illustrate her point. She uses the research literature together with her own experiences as a senior academic to demonstrate the power of self-questioning as a tool for “cultural humility”. She also draws on the writings of two former students in the Master of Education (International) program at Charles Darwin University as a way of showing “how the higher degree thesis was deployed as a means to speak to the academy on these very issues”. The discussion in the chapter makes it clear that international space is “no place for complacency” but rather one in which a false sense of competence can become a “blunt instrument and harbinger of false hopes”. Overall, the contributions to this theme show Higher Education at a crossroads, with opportunities to design its future by asserting its leadership role through programs which build on and integrate international contexts and experiences, which stimulate reflection on the end-goal, which bring renewal through critique, and which assist in

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generating tools for a global discussion on matters relating to the health of the international spaces which we occupy and traverse.

Identity, Language and Culture The contributions within this theme address processes of interaction and integration involving such influences on the social environment as mobility, migration, identity construction and displacement, diaspora and culturally responsive or indeed restrictive approaches to education. The relocation of individuals from rural areas to towns, from towns to cities, from one country to another, or one organisation or classroom to another means that individuals and institutions are challenged to successfully negotiate cultural shifts and be flexible and discerning in their understanding of the political effects of identity and language practices. The authors in this theme illustrate how institutions, communities and individuals negotiate cultural norms, identities and practices in order to mandate or resist the privileged status of some groups and the marginalisation of others. In the first chapter of the theme, “Evidence and culture in the global literacy education competition – and other possibilities”, Peter Freebody explores the meaning of “challenges in global learning” in relation to two different frameworks. The first framework relates to the international assessment tests of literacy and other aspects of learning which look for data on success and best practice. The second framework seeks to contextualise practices relevant to teaching, learning, assessment and resources in relation to the requirements of national/state curricula that concern themselves with the “global subject” and “learning about, with, and for the globe”. Regarding the issue of international literacy tests, Freebody focuses on the Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA). He criticises the image of infallibility of the “science” of that data that the international literacy ranking reports project, and the “data-richknowledge-poor” implications that are likely to be drawn by educators and policy planners. He also questions the tendency to conflate global comparisons with national results and shows how the nation category in international rankings masks “within-country variations” and thus discounts entire populations, and therefore the systems of inscription, of Indigenous nations in countries such as Australia, Canada, Sweden and so forth. The chapter suggests that to support “learning about, with, and for the globe” requires that tests contextualise their “subjects’” circumstances, engage the linguistic and cultural differences of the students and consider

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the different kinds of literacy practices, uses, and attitudes that they display. This method of documenting literacy capabilities is more likely to benefit literacy education and provide international educators with insights relevant to the histories, languages, and material, economic, and political conditions which shape the contexts of individual students. The meaning of English literacy in the globalised context of higher education is discussed by Koo Yew Lie in her chapter, “Internationalisation and student security in higher education: Exploring Plurienglish(es) in global learning”. In this chapter Koo proposes the concept of Plurienglish(es) as a strategy to approach the many “versions” of English that international students use for communication as a lens into the cultural resources and epistemes which the students seek to articulate. It is a window to a multitude of linguistic codes, varieties, genres, and styles that are influenced by national origin, ethnicity, profession, lifestyle and subgroup cultural entities as well as multimodal practices. Koo argues that just as plays on words signal new ways of meaning, so too do international students use English to represent who they are and to capture experiences and understandings that are not those of the (imagined) Native Speaker. In classrooms, teachers are challenged when confronted with the array of meanings and forms which are foreign to them. Koo offers the concept of Plurienglish(es) to legitimise this cross-cultural communication. In her view, it is critical that internationalisation of higher education be accompanied by a shift in attitudes which allows all parties to engage in a shared exploration of conventional and experimental language and cultural forms “involving English language vocabulary, language patterns and discourse as well as fractals from other language codes and varieties”. Following this, the concept of evidence as endorsed by federal and state governments to inform how teachers should engage their own identities and those of their students in a learning environment is discussed in a chapter by Ania Lian, Amy Cash, Kath Midgley and Cindy Napiza titled “Direct Instruction for ‘at-risk children’ and the Australian Curriculum: Toward a better understanding of the appeal of behaviourism in crosscultural contexts of learning”. This chapter looks at the recent pedagogic developments in the north of Australia, where the federal and state governments are engaged in rolling out the outdated, prescriptive teaching method of Direct Instruction. The chapter examines implications of Direct Instruction from the perspective of the Australian Curriculum (ACARA, 2014), educational research and teacher professional development, as well as the Northern Territory context. The chapter takes a strong position

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against the premises on which Direct Instruction builds its rationale and techniques. It does so on the grounds that the method defies the objectives of the Australian Curriculum as it interprets reproduction as evidence of students’ learning. This effectively renders the higher order thinking skills of the curriculum, embedded in Cross-curriculum Priorities and General Capabilities, irrelevant. The chapter then invites readers to reflect on the status quo of education and argues against what it perceives to be lack of intellectual diversification in the field as a whole and its inability “to remain open to new developments and discoveries” in seemingly unrelated disciplines, including neuroscience, semiotics and research concerned with the physiology of perception. Overall, the chapter challenges the claims that the method “works” and refocuses readers on future directions, where cultural plurality and children’s emotional, social and cognitive diversity are not seen as an obstacle, but as a tool of learning. The recent sway toward what Kell calls “simplistic instrumental approaches to solving complex problems” is the subject of the chapter by Melissa Kelaart and Sue Erica Smith, “Hastening quickly and slowly: Seeking to address indigenous Australian literacy”. In their chapter, Kelaart and Smith review the conceptual changes that dominate current educational policies in the Northern Territory and question the normative discourse in which the policies frame Indigenous children’s school success and development. Against the results of the National Assessment Program Literacy and Numeracy (NAPLAN) tests, which show Indigenous students trailing far behind non-Indigenous students, Kelaart and Smith illustrate arguments which point to fundamental differences between the two student cohorts which make comparisons of this kind unfair, unjust and lacking in cultural literacy. Kelaart and Smith also show that bilingual education, supported in previous years, is no longer valued for what it offers to Indigenous students and their communities. Instead, today its value is interpreted in relation to mainstream education standards where English is not a lingua franca but the main language of communication, work and play. Regrettably, “Languages Other Than English” do not enjoy the same push in mainstream education policies in Australia as English does in Indigenous contexts. Kelaart and Smith agree with the recent Review of Indigenous education in the Northern Territory (Wilson, 2014) that for policies to succeed, there needs to be a consistency, a long-term strategic framework in practice, and an evidence-based approach to implementation. They caution that to observe change, evidence needs to be critically informed and take an integrated perspective on child

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development. In turn, policies need to be resourced and coordinated in order to secure stability and engagement. Tania Tamaotai and Yoshi Budd engage further in the exploration of the concept of inclusion and inclusive pedagogy in the chapter “Globalisation and the Indigenous community”. Indigenous students continue to be a target of the media and policy discourse for their purported lack of engagement and poor numeracy and literacy outcomes. The chapter describes the Global Connections initiative developed in a remote school in the Northern Territory that uses the multiliteracies framework proposed by the New London Group (1996) as a process for building a positive “academic self-concept” for Indigenous students without the students and the Indigenous community feeling that their cultures are being threatened. The aim of the initiative is to “create confident and connected global citizens” through the use of multimedia and teaching strategies which require the students to interact with local stakeholders to “gain diverse perspectives on local topics of interest” and to learn to “communicate in depth about social, political and cultural issues on a more global scale and to express their own cultural knowledge using terminology that is understood outside of their current situation”. The chapter presents the Global Connections initiative as a model “for extending cultural repertoires”, i.e., not a model for “transition to mainstream practices”. The chapter by Katrina Railton, “Capacity-building approaches for teachers in remote Northern Territory schools: Challenges and opportunities”, focuses on social (human) capital as a resource which, when supported and developed, can provide teachers, students and the community with tools for reflective engagement and collaboration. The chapter reviews the literature on the kinds of professional learning support that are publicly available and that new teacher recruits require in order to adjust to the unfamiliar, remote Northern Territory (NT) contexts. The resources illustrate the functional, social, cultural, emotional political aspects of the “job” of teachers in remote NT schools but are also relevant in any other educational contexts. Interestingly, in relation to these aspects, the literature reviewed by Railton suggests that working across cultural boundaries involves a certain degree of self-awareness, an explicit effort to identify differences (not all of which are reducible to one’s ethnicity), openness, curiosity, an ability to negotiate and build with others what may appear to be a closed curriculum, and professional development through self-study and other capacity-building pathways. The chapter makes the point that it is the human relationships that generate success,

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hence the focus on social capital and the strategies which make its resourcing possible. Overall, in relation to the general concerns of the theme of Identity, Cultures and Language, the chapters offer perspectives which together refute the reality of a “global citizen” whose identity is standardised and normativised, and where cultural diversity is seen as a variation on the theme, not the theme itself. To draw on Kell and Koo, mono-ethnic, monocultural, mono-lingual and mono-religious states do not exist. The research presented in this theme challenges interpretations of globalisation that erase the “local" from the “global”, which then leaves institutions, policies, teaching approaches and communities without a process for building shared futures. The authors offer powerful concepts and approaches to inform these processes in ways that acknowledge linguistic and cultural diversity and where learning is multidirectional.

Wellbeing, Sustainability and Globalisation The contributions within this theme address concerns relating to children’s and/or students’ wellbeing, sustainability and the impacts of educational programs, policies, reforms, and opportunities in general as they apply to education. This theme interprets globalisation within an interdisciplinary perspective where sustainability not only refers to the ecological conditions involving the environment, but also the social conditions that apply. These social conditions include security, safety, and access to housing, health and educational services, as well as human rights and employment. Wellbeing therefore is shown to be strongly related to the external conditions that apply in any given community and setting. The social conditions determine health conditions as significant as life expectancy, resilience to disease, quality of life and health profiles of people and populations. The impact and relevance of the environment on children’s development are addressed in the first chapter of the theme by Sven Silburn, “Strengthening the foundations of early learning: Investing in early childhood development”. The chapter is informed by decades of child development research and large-scale longitudinal studies which show that optimising children’s early brain development is critical when investing in policies, programs and practices. Silburn illustrates the relevance of the different developmental periods. First, a child’s development is influenced by the lifestyle of its parents, especially the mother. There is now conclusive evidence showing that drug, alcohol consumption and stress

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during pregnancy impact on how children develop mentally and physically. From the time of birth, the rate of human brain growth accelerates, and by the age of three the brain will have more neurons and synapses “than it will have at any other stage in life”. From then on, the process of consolidation, as well as of cell pruning, begins according to the “use it or lose it” principle. Sven Silburn describes how, as a consequence, the period between the ages of three and five years forms the foundation for all subsequent health, behaviour and learning development. This applies also to children’s emotional health: impoverished, neglectful, unpredictable or abusive environments result in stress that floods the brain with stress hormones which in turn disrupt the normal patterns of neuronal growth. Based on life-course development research and brain science, Silburn discusses factors that are critical to the effective formation of policies and services, as well as the design of programs for families, schools and communities. The chapter by Nick Hancock, “Strategies for enhancing student wellbeing and school engagement in a remote Indigenous school”, draws on research which connects student wellbeing and school engagement. Hancock is a teacher in a remote Indigenous school in the Northern Territory, and his study was co-designed with his fellow teachers and the school leadership team to generate a better understanding of the concept of wellbeing and its impact on students’ general dispositions to learning. The school agreed that the study should focus predominantly on male students, which proved difficult to do as the literature takes a broad perspective on student wellbeing and tends not to distinguish between boys and girls. Justification for this unisex approach to wellbeing is not provided by the research examined by Hancock. The literature review of the study served to map the relationship between the various wellbeing strategies identified by research and the “five pillars of wellbeing” which, as reported by Nick Hancock, form the key objectives of the majority of wellbeing programs. These “five pillars of wellbeing” include physical environment, sense of belonging, relationships, academic support, and autonomy. The mapping task revealed seventeen strategies in total, averaging between nine to twelve strategies per “pillar”. The study offers a good foundation for the school in question, for other schools and for future studies to engage in a thorough analysis and development of the wellbeing programs. In terms of future research, an epistemological analysis of the concept of wellbeing that would link pedagogy and the Australian Curriculum could result in a more comprehensive framework for integrating wellbeing strategies into regular classrooms.

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Therese Kersten, in the chapter “Bilateral engagements and capacity development: Understanding the context of the educational reform in Timor Leste”, explores teacher education through international partnerships as opportunities for mutual learning resulting in the building of increasingly sustainable educational programs. Specifically, the chapter addresses collaboration between Charles Darwin University and the Ministry of Education in Timor-Leste that was set up to support TimorLeste in the implementation of a new national curriculum through biennial “Steps to the Future” workshops. In the course of the chapter, Kersten constructs a framework to inform the design of these workshops so as to enable each party to gain the most from the training. Following Clayton Christensen from the Harvard Business School, Kersten identifies six areas which form the context of policy development and implementation. She explores the literature about Timor-Leste and other countries in a similar predicament in order to identify information and experiences that might provide the Charles Darwin University team with valuable perspectives and questions for consideration. The framework that emerges in the course of this analysis allows her to highlight the need for a two-way strategy of expertise-building, long-term thinking, and consideration of the complex past of the country, including its linguistic diversity. Understanding these aspects is important to avoid “fly-by” solutions, which frequently fail to address and work with the people whom the policies affect and who are to carry them out. The framework can be further expanded through in-depth research on each of the aspects it highlights in order to result in increasingly better informed bilateral collaboration in an educational context. The chapter by Dawnie Tagala, “The impact of skilled migration on the Philippines”, discusses the “brain drain” phenomenon as it affects the Philippines and other countries which experience highly-skilled labour migration. The chapter shows that professional development and subsidised education are not sufficient for highly skilled and educated professionals to remain in their home country. Aggressive recruitment of highly-skilled workers to high-income countries is difficult to resist: the wages are higher and the prospects for furthering one’s career are also higher. The chapter also shows the creativity of governments and migrant communities to engage in initiatives that benefit home and migrant communities. Examples of such initiatives include the establishment of research councils which coordinate international collaboration, or nongovernment organisations, such as the Philippine Nurses Association of America, the Asian Institute of Technology in Thailand, or the Lingkod sa Kapwa Pilipino, which focus on building capacity and strengthening the

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ties between international professional communities. However, collaborations of this kind and similar activities are frequently hampered by country-specific regulations. Tagala shows that the approach proposed by OECD countries to alleviate many of these challenges is not without problems. Some of the issues that she raises relate to funding and others relate to the ethics of knowledge production and reproduction. Overall, the chapter attempts to capture the dynamics of change that impact on how countries further and plan their international engagements in order to enhance their cultural and knowledge capital. The chapter by Sonya Mackenzie, “Economic productivity and global education reform: Critique”, examines the impact of the pressures that the commodification of education and global competition have had on Australian schools. The chapter constructs its critique of recent developments in Australian education by drawing on a framework by Hargreaves and Shirley (2009), which distinguishes among three stages of policy implementation: innovation and a fair degree of freedom; competition and standardisation; and a search for balance among innovation, autonomy and accountability. Throughout the chapter, Mackenzie illustrates the consistent attempts by the Australian government to curb innovation and freedom in order to secure international rankings. MacKenzie shows that these strategies are backfiring, with individual states refusing to engage in the various policy programs designed by the federal government. She argues that this push-pull situation between the federal government and the states prevents real progress from taking place. She concludes that Australia continues to be caught in the second stage of educational reform on Hargreaves and Shirley’s (2009) taxonomy and may need to reassess the criteria that inform the expectations of success on which it builds. Overall, the chapters of the theme show Australia embedded in a global context of challenges that every country interprets and addresses from the perspective of their own contexts and imperatives. The discussions in the theme demonstrate that there is no single perfect policy or regulation able to capture these challenges and make responses available at the push of a button. Narrowly-defined frameworks generated from the perspective of the problem exacerbate or create new problems. The contributions to this theme also show that while educators and policymakers all over the world may not agree on “what is right”, research is much less fuzzy about the detrimental effects of contexts that “get it wrong”. Educators deal with opportunities. These include the opportunities of a young brain whose development can be curtailed through a program that limits what children

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Introduction

do by believing that it knows what they can do. In much the same way, the opportunity to create classrooms where children feel that they thrive can be lost in contexts which separate students’ wellbeing from students’ personal success. Nothing succeeds like success, and students will become engaged wherever they find success. The contexts discussed in this theme show that planning for success is planning for engagement. Sustainable programs cannot be developed on behalf of people: programs need to maintain an organic dimension which makes room for people’s involvement and growth, and this also includes students.

Digital Futures and New Learning The theme unveils a world where, as a result of technological development, an important evolution has occurred in how people communicate with one another and create, identify, represent and use knowledge. A change in the balance of power is thus taking place in relation to access and ownership of knowledge, increasingly shifting control out of the hands of experts and into the hands of ordinary people. This in turn enables them, more than ever before, to enjoy greater selfreliance and autonomy as well as providing them with greater opportunities to be more creative both intellectually and in the forms of collaboration in which they engage. The contributions in this theme draw attention to the emerging divide between this new culture of learning and the traditional pedagogies that remain largely unaffected by technological change despite frequent reliance on modern technology. In the first chapter of the theme, “The inexorable rise of the proletarian autodidact”, Andrew Lian attributes this divide, at least in part, to the conservative tendencies of many educational programs, their reliance on what actually “does not work” but is standard dogma or practice that feels safe and authorised. According to Lian, the 21st century is not responsible for creating curious autodidacts; people have always had a thirst for knowledge and sought it through whatever means were available to them. The 21st century and its technological developments have simply made this phenomenon more visible. Today, in the rapidly changing landscape of knowledge production, it is no longer knowledge, or even “basic knowledge”, that is stable, but rather just human intellect and its well-established and inestimable capacity to evolve and adapt to change. Interdisciplinarity, intellectual renewal and the courage to seek out such renewal are key values that Andrew Lian identifies as capable of

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supporting and nurturing innovation in all research fields. He exemplifies principles which draw on these values and which inform his own work in the field of technology and second language-learning. He then describes a successful project conducted in China with Chinese learners of English. In his own words, the project was risky because it broke new ground and went against traditionally-held views of the TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) discipline. However, intellectually it was critically informed and based on evidence which drew on crossdisciplinary frameworks and findings which set the foundations of its success. This critical engagement in the theme is reflected in other chapters. Ania Lian and Amy Cash, in the chapter “A dialogic, evidence-based framework for integrating technology into school curricula”, conduct an epistemological analysis of contrasting pedagogic models for integrating ICT into school curricula. Their analysis examines the intellectual frameworks and traditions which inform these models and their implications for the teaching of the General Capabilities identified in the Australian Curriculum, in relation to Cross-curriculum Priorities. Specifically, they look at the Capabilities which concern themselves with the ethical aspects of learning and knowledge production. These include the Social and Personal Capabilities, the Critical and Creative Thinking Capabilities, and the Intercultural and Ethical Capabilities. The outcome of the study consists of a dialogic framework for integrating technology into school curricula and implications for practice. The framework draws on evidence from a diversity of disciplines in order to identify processes relevant to concepts such as student agency, culture and cultural learning and creative and critical thinking, which are central to the development of the knowledge, skills, behaviours and dispositions captured in the General Capabilities statements. The focus on student agency, cultural, ethical and critical thinking also permeates the chapter by Ania Lian, Adam Bodnarchuk, Andrew Lian and Cindy Napiza, “Academic writing as aesthetics applied: Creative use of technology to support multisensory learning”. This chapter describes a pilot project which conceptualises and then performs preliminary testing of an approach to the pedagogy of academic writing which looks for alternatives to the traditional, didactic (“present and assimilate”) teaching models currently in favour. The approach builds on cross-disciplinary thinking and sets out to “tinker” with ideas and insights from the fields of neuroscience and corrective phonetics in order to develop tools for allowing students to self-assess and, in the process, generate personally

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Introduction

relevant feedback on their own writing. Concepts from corrective phonetics offer alternative techniques for representing students’ writing, while the neurological theory of aesthetic experience proposed by Ramachandran and Hirstein (1999) provides students with new perspectives for analysing the communicative/aesthetic impact of their own texts. Preliminary findings are promising and show that the neurological theory of aesthetic experience may provide students with tools for examining their own writing by engaging a multiplicity of semiotic systems that “are likely to be ignored by teachers who view texts through the lens of linguistics only and who assume that the students do too”. The chapter by Justina Fernandes and Jon Mason, “But I can practise piano on my iPad”, discusses the use of technology in supporting music education in primary schools in Australia. The chapter explores opportunities that technology opens up for music classrooms where it is not likely that each student will have access to their own instrument. But technology allows for more. Different applications allow students to integrate music into their multimedia projects and make the composition of music easy, and students can also be creative in the ways in which they arrange or present their musical works. Music has been shown to have relevance to a number of learning areas. There is a multitude of applications available nowadays for teachers to use and explore in subjects such as literacy or mathematics. The chapter provides numerous examples of such applications and products and offers plenty of ideas to stimulate the imagination. Altogether, the theme makes a case for learning environments which favour resource-based, unscripted forms of learning where community building is seen as an inherent characteristic of modern, responsive and adaptive education and a crucial factor in supporting critical, ethical and culturally-sensitive learning. Such educational systems will become necessary not only to meet society’s current needs but also to ensure the development of a creative, critical and adaptable global society capable of long-term growth and sustainability in a world where the unforeseen will become commonplace.

The Significance of the Current Volume Given the background of this volume and the objectives it communicates, it is, in itself, a response to the challenges which modern postgraduate

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coursework programmes need to address when designing learning experiences able to support the transformation that higher education institutions want to see in the field of education. The volume arrives at a time when all higher education providers in Australia are rethinking and redesigning master’s by coursework programs. The new emphasis on research training presents a challenge in Australia, where master’s by coursework degrees are relatively novel and have experienced some confusion as to standards (such as course length, depth and breadth of material and strategic positioning), purpose and educational approaches (Forsyth, Laxton, Moran, van der verf Banks & Taylor, 2009, p. 642). Currently, a number of studies are underway, funded by the Australian Office of Learning and Teaching (OLT) in order to investigate issues relating to the design and delivery of postgraduate courses, but few address directly the need for the presence of global perspectives in coursework programs as well as international mobility possibilities for postgraduate education graduates. Furthermore, pedagogy is not addressed as the key to the success of these programs beyond more rudimentary concerns with distance delivery and establishing a cross-comparison of program structures and content between collaborating institutions. This suggests that pedagogy may emerge as a key research area if the institutions are to provide supportive and internally coherent programs, transparent in their expectations, pedagogically consistent and, as pointed out by Clifford and Montgomery (2014), able to enhance intercultural engagement among local and international students. Following on the theme of internationalisation and standards, an OLT project by Ware, Anderson, Lee, Court, Sack, and Bowring (2013) sets up a shared master’s by coursework structure exploring trans-national collaboration between four Australian and one New Zealand Institution as an innovative alternative to more locally-oriented current programs in Landscape Architecture. The focus of the project is on supporting student mobility through cross-institutional engagement. Fraser, Ryan, Brien and McLennan (2014) embarked on a Creativity skills MOOC for Australian coursework masters students project to pilot a MOOC approach to teaching and assessing Australian Quality Framework (AQF) skills. The project targets Australian master’s by coursework students and uses new MOOC technology to teach and assess creativity. This is a timely project linking technology, distance delivery and

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Introduction

standards. It is also an opportunity to test the concept of creativity it adopts and its relationship to other skills and graduate attributes. Margaret Kiley (2013), in her project I've done a coursework masters, now I'd like to do a doctorate: can I?, sets out to address “the poorly understood research education components of coursework masters programs”. Together with her second project (Kiley, 2014; Kiley & Cumming, 2015) conducted with the Australian Council of Deans of Education Directors of Graduate Studies Australia, Kiley investigates factors that contribute to a successful transition from a master’s by coursework program to a doctorate, including student characteristics, student motivation, and student support. Belinda Probert (2014, 2015) examines the concept of scholarship in higher education institutions. She provides a critique of the way in which ‘scholarship’ has come to be interpreted in Australian higher education and the impact this has on coursework and research programs. This work follows on the heels of a similar debate which developed in the UK and EU (Jørgensen, 2014) because of the rapid expansion of higher education provision through further education colleges. The present volume is the first and only one in Australia which builds on a learning framework specifically designed to offer a unique model for situating a master’s by coursework program (the Master of Education International) within a broader strategy of institutional capacity building.

References ACARA (Australian Curriculum Assessment and Reporting Authority). (2014). Cross-curriculum priorities. Retrieved November 2, 2015 from: http://www.australiancurriculum.edu.au/crosscurriculumpriorities/over view/introduction. Boyer Commission on Educating Undergraduates in the Research University. (1998). Reinventing undergraduate education: A blueprint for America's research universities. Stony Brook, NY: State University of New York at Stony Brook. Calhoun, C. (1995). Critical theory. Oxford: Blackwell. Clifford, V. & Montgomery, C. (2014). Transformative learning through internationalization of the curriculum in higher education. Journal of Transformative Education, 13(1), 46-64.

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Conrad, F. C., Haworth, J. G. & Millar, S. B. (1993). A silent success: Masters education in the United States. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Forsyth, H., Laxton, R., Moran, C., van der verf Banks, J.R. & Taylor, R. (2009). Postgraduate coursework in Australia: Issues emerging from university and industry collaboration. Higher Education, 57(5), 641-655. Fraser, K., Ryan, Y., Brien, D. & McLennan, B. (2014). A creativity skills MOOC for Australian coursework masters students. Sydney: Australian Government Office for Learning and Teaching. Hargreaves, A. & Shirley, D. (2009). The fourth way: The inspiring future for educational change. Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin. Jørgensen, T. (2014). European doctoral education: A silent revolution. Keynote presentation at the Quality in Postgraduate Research conference, Adelaide, Australia. Kiley, M. (2013). I’ve done a coursework masters, now I’d like to do a doctorate: Can I? Sydney: Australian Government Office for Learning and Teaching. —. (2014). Coursework in Australian doctoral education: What’s happening, why and future directions? Final report. Australian Government Office for Learning and Teaching. Kiley, M. & Cumming, J. (2015). Enhanced learning pathways and support for coursework master's students: Challenges and opportunities. Higher Education Research and Development, 34(1), 105-116. New London Group. (1996). A pedagogy of multiliteracies: Designing social futures. Harvard Educational Review, 66(1), 60-92. Probert, B. (2014). Why scholarship matters in higher education. Sydney: Australian Government Office for Learning and Teaching. —. (2015). The quality of Australia’s higher education system: How it might be defined, improved and assured. Australian Government Office for Learning and Teaching. Ware, S. A., Anderson, C., Lee, V., Court, T. Sack, C. & Bowring, J. (2014). Shared mastery: An international collaborative approach to masters in landscape architecture. Sydney: Australian Government Office for Learning and Teaching. Wilson, B. (2014). A share in the future: Review of Indigenous education in the Northern Territory. Report to the Minister of Education, Northern Territory, Australia. Retrieved April 21, 2016 from: https://www.humanrights.gov.au/sites/default/files/57.3%20%20Revie w%20of%20Indigenous%20Education%20in%20the%20Northern%20 Territory.pdf.

THEME 1 – KNOWLEDGES AND EPISTEMOLOGIES

THE MASTER’S BY COURSEWORK DEGREE: A CASE STUDY IN INNOVATION IN GLOBAL LEARNING AT CHARLES DARWIN UNIVERSITY PETER KELL CHARLES DARWIN UNIVERSITY, AUSTRALIA

Abstract The master’s degree occupies an important and changing role in the spectrum of academic awards. This chapter discusses the origins of the master’s degree and the manner in which this degree, possibly more than others, has changed in its character, purpose and orientation. It also explores the growing popularity of the master’s degree, its shifting utility, and the controversies and tensions associated with the degree. In addition, this chapter documents contemporary trends in master’s degrees in education and illustrates the intellectual framework underpinning the development of the Master of Education (International) at Charles Darwin University (CDU) in Northern Australia as an example of an innovative postgraduate coursework degree.

The Origin of the Master’s Degree The term master emerged from the Latin word magister, meaning “teacher”, and the “master’s degree” has been associated with pedagogy since its first appearance at the University of Paris in the twelfth century. It was originally awarded for three years of study after a baccalaureate degree, but the master’s award later lost status to the doctorate. In English universities, such as Cambridge and Oxford, the master’s degree was a form of preparation for graduates to undertake teaching. As in France, it consisted of three years of study after completion of an undergraduate degree. It was seen as a form of rigorous academic achievement.

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The master’s degree lost prestige, ceased to be a symbol of achievement and, during the 1800s, became an honorary award. It was not until 1859 that the University of Michigan formalised its programs and awarded the first “earned” master’s degree. The emergence of the master’s degree also coincided with the rise of the university in general and of graduate education, as international developments in Germany consolidated the value of a university education and as industry experienced high demand for skilled professionals in response to rapid industrialisation (Conrad, Haworth & Millar, 1993, pp. 3-9). In this period, graduate education and universities grew as an alternative to the older liberal arts college advanced studies options with specialist curriculum. The master’s degree also grew in popularity along with doctoral studies, but it was seen primarily as a preparation for university teaching appointments. By the late 1800s, leading US universities were offering earned master’s degrees in liberal arts and sciences for prospective college teachers, spawning graduate education. This preparatory role for college teaching gradually diminished as the PhD grew in status and the master’s was seen as a stepping stone to doctoral studies. Spencer (as cited in Conrad et al., 1993, p. 7) described the master’s degree as little more than a way station on the road to the doctorate; at its worst, it became a consolation prize for those who could not complete successfully at the more advanced level.

The advent of compulsory education also created a need for postbaccalaureate education for secondary and primary teachers, so education became one of the major disciplines to use master’s degrees as part of the professionalisation of teaching. The growth of universities and the demand for college faculty, the need for well qualified high school teachers, the rise of women seeking post-baccalaureate education, and the popularity of summer schools were factors that led to growth in demand for the master’s degree in the early 20th century. In the US in 1900, there were about 300 institutions awarding 1,500 master’s degrees, but this grew to 27,000 by 1940 (Conrad et. al., 1993, p. 6). Estimates at the time suggest that 75% of the enrolments were teachers and over two-thirds of all degrees were in the field of education (Conrad et. al., 1993, p. 6). This professionalisation of the master’s degree also saw changes to the assumption that a master’s was a stepping stone to the Ph.D., with less than 10% of master’s

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graduates going on to further study. Before the Second World War, the master’s degree was generally recognised as a professional and terminal degree for teachers and school administrators.

The Popularisation of the Master’s Degree There were various attempts to standardise the qualification, but these proved futile as the diversity of provision was stimulated by the demand from industry and government for customised and specialist courses that spanned requirements for both advanced research and technical skills. Further, expansion in the post-war era was fuelled by the certification and promotion policies of the school sector and the growing demand from business and government for a master’s level qualification with advanced and specialised technical training (Conrad et. al., 1993). In the US by 1970, there were over 208,000 master’s degree graduates. The dominance of education continued, with 42% of master’s degrees in the 1960s (Conrad et.al., 1993, p. 12). Arguments and criticism around the growth and quality of master’s programs endured and included suggestions that there was little differentiation between undergraduate and postgraduate curricula, no distinct identity in the degrees and a tendency to favour the needs of the university rather than those of the students. Included in these criticisms were contradictory positions that argued that the popularity of master’s degrees was either debasing the value of the Ph.D. or was being relegated to lesser status relative to the Ph.D. However, the growing popularity of the master’s degree suggested a shift in the utility of these degrees. Berelson (as cited in Conrad et. al., 1993, p. 13) wrote, In many professional fields or parts of them, the master’s is, or may be on the way to becoming, the first professional degree, e.g., in engineering, business, education, social work, library, science. In such fields, it is the capstone of the final year of what is essentially a five-year program of study.

Accompanying these changes was a paradigmatic shift from studies in the disciplines of the arts and sciences to professional degrees. Glazer-Raymo (2005) referred to these as a dominant paradigm of being practitioneroriented and emphasising pragmatic training in skills for career development. The new shift was attributed to the growing popularity of the Ph.D. in graduate schools, but also to the growing demand for advanced training that accompanied upgraded requirements in new and emerging

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technologies of the workplace. However, this also included a move from a theory-based curriculum to a more practice-oriented approach and represented a departure from the traditional academic canons. These new degrees were characterised by diversification that included programs emphasising the practical application of theory to practice and purpose derived from the utilitarian needs for industry. Specialisation and professionalisation were complemented with depersonalised delivery that did not involve residency, mentorship or classes.

The Professionalisation of Education and the Master’s Degree The proliferation of programs in the late 20th century saw changes in the demography of master’s degree students, with growing numbers of women receiving master’s degrees so that by 1988-89, 52% of recipients were females. In 1981, there were as many women achieving a master’s qualification as men, with the highest proportion being in library sciences (81.8%), health (77.6%) and education (76.4%). When disaggregated by race, whites accounted for 62.1%, African American 7.7%, Hispanics 4.2%, Asian/Pacific Islanders 4.8% and Native Americans 0.5% (GlazerRaymo, 2005, p. 19). The US public education sector support for master’s degrees in providing placements and internships as well as funding students meant that by 2000, large sections of the public school workforce had master’s degree qualifications. Half of all public school teachers (52%) had only an undergraduate degree, while 41.9% had a master’s degree. There were also 53% of public school principals who held a master’s degree (GlazerRaymo, 2005, pp. 44-45). What Glazer-Rymo (2005) called the elevation of teaching from an occupational to professional status, the role of master’s education in those changes has been contentious. It has also been related to the political, industrial and sociological context that sees influence on teachers’ work by government and unions as well as elected school boards. Cycles of inquiry by government and reform proposals have discussed the role of postgraduate education and criticised initial undergraduate teacher preparation. These included Tomorrow’s teachers (Holmes Group, 1986), which proposed the abolition of undergraduate teacher qualifications in university faculties of education. Tomorrow’s teachers recommended a form of professional certification that included a one-year paid induction

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with significant classroom experience and professional experience. These proposals indicate a suspicion that university-based preparation is too theoretical and that practical training in the workplace is superior to the academy (Glazer-Raymo, 2005, p. 46). More commonly, the quest for professionalisation has emphasised national licensing and a standards-based model to promote teacher quality in a master’s program. This emphasis on lifting the professionalism of teachers was consistent with the perspective of experts such as Darling-Hammond that “the strongest predictor of a student’s achievement is the percentage of well qualified teachers in a school, district or state” (Glazer-Raymo 2005, 46). The development of a national uniform approach to standards has been attempted with model programs incorporating fieldwork, theory into practice, teaching learning, reflective practice and continuous clinical experiences. These models promoted a standards-based approach heavily biased towards a practice-based approach grounded in the school, implying a mistrust of programs that are overly theoretical.

The “Contest” Between Theory and Practice in Master’s Degrees These trends have been mirrored in the UK, with master’s degrees being both a stepping stone to doctoral studies but also a discriminator for leadership. Although the history of master’s degrees in the UK is different from that in the US, the student cohort continues to be dominated by teachers and education workers. Very recently, this can be partly attributed to the development of the National Vocational Qualifications (NVQ) and the Teacher Training Agency (TTA) registration requirements for head teachers and the National Professional Head Teachers (NPHT) and National Expert Teachers Qualifications (NETQ). These external compliance requirements have tended to drive the popularisation of master’s degrees. While these instrumental factors have driven the market position of the master’s degrees, they have also created tensions regarding the balance between theoretical and practical knowledge. In an examination of the content of the UK Open University Master of Arts programs in literacy and language, Stierer (1998) documents a binary between practice and theory. Even though the Master of Arts programs met professional and vocational needs, there is still a shifting balance between the theory and practice that Stierer describes as occurring in the philosophy of the degree as well as in the nature of assessment. The philosophy has shifted from more fixed views of knowledge based on

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content mastery as a form of academic socialisation to interpretive approaches that value critical reflection and analysis. Stierer (1998) identified the nature of assessment tasks undertaken in the degree and found a dominance of assessment tasks such as essays, projects and proposals. He also argued that this was significant because some courses appeared implicitly to expect the student to position themselves fairly remotely from the issues in the course: the issues are “out there”, to be studied and understood, and the student's own personal/ professional response is not strictly warrantable as an outcome. (Stierer, 1998, p. 5)

The contradiction emerging with programs that are ostensibly developed for professional and practical reasons creates a tension with the situated knowledge of the participants because it is not acknowledged as legitimate except in so far it is informed by theory. Stierer (1998, p. 6) discusses this tension saying, what is principally warrantable is the professional “payoff'”, and the student who is not able to demonstrate that their practice has changed as a result of their study is at a disadvantage. Indeed, most courses implicitly contained some elements of both of these, leaving students understandably uncertain about their personal position in relation to issues in the course. A further assumption was that assignments which demanded detachment were located in a more “academic” tradition, and the assignments which demanded involvement were located in a more “professional” tradition.

Stierer’s (1998) observations highlight the tensions about the legitimacy of knowledge that is derived from the workplace and tradition as opposed to views about the superiority of theoretical knowledge. This tension highlights one of the fundamental and enduring conflicts in postgraduate education about how practice and theory are integrated and how theory is derived and valued. The balance between these tensions is strongly influenced by the market dynamics of graduate studies as demands in industry for advanced knowledge and skills application ensure that these degrees will continue to be sought-after. However, there is a tension between the pragmatic and practical aspects of using the master’s degree as a tool for workforce development, as opposed to utilising the degree to facilitate theory building and exploring theory and practice through research. This shifting balance between theory and practice is a feature of the master’s degree, ensuring that it will continue to be characterised by innovation and diversity as providers seek to differentiate their product around the

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relationship between theory and practice. An example is how such degrees, stressing a practical application, are promoted as providing opportunities in the “real world”. According to Glazer-Raymo (2005, p. 23), the master’s degree plays a pivotal role in bridging undergraduate and doctoral education, but its chief value is to cross boundaries and “move into heterogeneous organisational frameworks that superimpose inter-disciplinarity as an overarching system of innovation, boundary crossing and interaction among scientific, technological and industrial models of production”. The ability to respond to this diversity also means that new master’s degrees are more likely to be based on a relationship where theory emerges from the practice of the workplace. Hence, there is a constant flow back and forth between the fundamental and applied, between the theoretical and the practical. This also means that the rigid demarcations observed by Stierer (1998) are being eroded by approaches to curriculum design that favour a situated approach grounded in the day-to-day realities and challenges of the workplace and communities. As a result of these changes, the master’s degree is becoming fully professionalised as the professions themselves become more entrepreneurial, competitive and socially accountable. The demarcation lines between formerly compartmentalised disciplines in isolated departments have become more permeable and indeterminate as the production of knowledge expands beyond artificially created boundaries (Glazer-Raymo, 2005, p. 111). This has fundamentally altered the institutional organisation of the academy, as there is also a growing interdisciplinarity. Glazer-Raymo (2005) argues that existing taxonomies designed on traditional discipline boundaries cannot capture the diversity of both the modes of delivery and also the cognate disciplines that make up master’s degrees. This boundary crossing means that there are challenges in the way the university and academy configure discipline hierarchies and locate them institutionally. Professional associations and universities are often in conflict over the manner in which universities seeking institutional coherence, financial stability and international recognition cluster cognate disciplines. Many professional associations are concerned that their fields are becoming stratified and assigned different levels of status by the nature of awards. These dilemmas regarding institutional ensembles tend to have greater impact than perceptions about the relationships between quality and theory and practice in master’s degrees. This is because viability, sustainability

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and recognition have resource and financial implications. Nonetheless, the survival of many master’s programs is strongly connected to their relative cheapness and adaptability to market forces.

The Internationalisation of the Master’s Degree: Collaboration and Competition This linkage to the market has also facilitated a growing internationalisation of master’s degrees, which have been boosted by the globalisation of the labour market in professions combined with opportunities to use new technologies of learning. This has happened at several levels and reflects the diversification of the degree and its increasing linkages to global workforce developments. Internationalisation includes increasing levels of inbound international students undertaking master’s level degrees with a vocational orientation. In many cases, these degrees have been customised to respond to local skills shortages and provide students from the developing world with opportunities to undertake short-term work or qualify for permanent residency in developed nations. This sees a concentration of such degrees in disciplines such as information technology, science and medical fields as well as business, where pathways to migration are optimised by labour shortages. The other key development is a response to the internationalisation of higher education where master’s degrees are offered by two or more universities in two or more countries (CGS, 2008). These degrees reflect partnerships or collaborations between international universities and include dual degrees, where partners award recipients two degrees, and joint degrees, where partners jointly accredit and badge a single degree. These options are growing in popularity, and the Council of Graduate Study (CGS, 2008) undertook a two-stage research project on collaborative degrees in 2007 and 2008, with 36% of universities responding. While there are increasing dilemmas in collaborative delivery, according to Shenton and Houdayer (2007) the context of internationalisation drives the development of collaborations at three levels. First, international rankings mean that being in the top ten business schools in Europe has a new strategic importance in establishing an international brand. Second, international agreements on quality have been able to establish benchmarks on quality. Third, the Bologna protocols and the development of the European Credits Transfer System (ECTS) have enabled more

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“readable” degrees and promoted student mobility. At the master’s level, this “readability” has been seen by Shenton and Houdayer (2007) as providing Europe with a major market opportunity in both the European Union and globally. With the Bologna agreements, the master’s degree has now become a distinct marketable qualification, a feature that previously happened in only a few countries, such as the UK. Shenton and Houdayer (2007) recognised the tensions emerging from the commercialisation of master’s degrees and asked if changes might be purely cosmetic to qualify for formal Bologna recognition. They argue that there is a danger that providers might incorporate aspects of the new Bologna framework with the old, without differentiating between undergraduate and postgraduate programs and make such programs “unreadable”. They argue that such confusion can be overcome through more specialist degrees in areas such as marketing, management and human resources, rather than offering generic MBA (Master in Business Administration) degrees. While Shenton and Houdayer have recognised the convergence of the Bologna framework, quality standards and rankings as potentially advantageous, they also suggest that the market is still unstructured and that there is “uncertainty regarding the behaviours of students and employers” and that the “capacity of European universities to respond to the necessary governance structures that would allow more market-oriented strategies” is lacking (Shenton & Houdayer, 2007, p. 15). In the face of a highly diversified and fragmented provision and the implications of these developments on quality, Knight (2011) proposes a more cohesive and collective engagement with the issues of accreditation, quality assurance, costs to students and the nomenclature of programs. In conclusion Knight (2011, p. 309) argues, Most importantly, a robust debate on the vexing questions of accreditation, recognition and legitimacy of qualifications needs to take place to ensure that international collaborative programs and their awards are respected and welcomed by students, higher education institutions and employers around the world, and do not lead to undesirable, unintended consequences.

Glazer-Raymo (2005) suggests that the dilemmas around accountability and quality assurance may be answered in the growing importance of the master’s degree in the professions themselves. These professions have a vested interest in preserving the quality and currency of the master’s degree. This is a shift for regulation away from gatekeeping role towards credentialism. Glazer-Raymo (2005, p.105) says that the challenge here is

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about raising expectation and striving for positions of public respect and influence.

Globalising the Master’s Degree Through Online Learning The growth in new technologies of learning has led to a rapid increase in the number of master’s programs available online. This has provided significant opportunities for an expansion of master’s degree programs, as online learning has facilitated the participation of a new group of learners who may be unable to attend formal face-to-face classes owing to work commitments, family and career responsibilities or geographic proximity. This is particularly important for existing workers looking to upgrade their qualification or seeking to access advanced skills training and professional development while working. Importantly, online learning offers opportunities for providers to internationalise and optimise opportunities for a borderless education provision. Online learning has accelerated levels of innovation and diversity in master’s level programs in a range of professions and disciplines. In the US, 66% of colleges who offer face-toface courses are also offering graduate studies online, and 44% of colleges offering face to face master’s courses are also providing them online. Growth in online programs in higher education grew by 21%, where growth overall was only 2%. Ginn and Hammond (2012) have estimated that there were 5.6 million students involved in online courses in the fall of 2009. The growth of online learning has been exponential and looks set to continue into the future. In an overview of master’s programs in public administration, including the Master of Public Administration (MPA) and Master of Public Policy (MPP), Ginn and Hammond (2012) surveyed all members of the National Association of Schools and Public Affairs and Administration (NASPAA) about which master’s degrees were offered online and questioned the value of online learning, the quality of programs and implications of online learning. The survey found that “the general view seems to suggest online education is as effective as traditional on-campus education, if not better” (Ginn & Hammond, 2012, p. 249): Examining the efficacy and feasibility of online education as it relates to professional development of police officers, Donavant (2009) found “no statistically significant difference in the effectiveness of” online and traditional classroom instructions “and indicated that learning was taking place regardless of the delivery method” (p. 239).

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The authors found that learning was not influenced by technology and that learning occurred regardless of the mode. In the domain of technology, aspects associated with inequitable access were expressed as “the digital divide” and were seen to be the biggest impediment to the impact of online learning. The capacity and capabilities of faculty and instructors were also seen as an impediment, and their ability and willingness to teach with technology were seen as a major factor limiting opportunities for learners. Amongst the factors contributing to resistance and reluctance on the part of instructors were perceptions that online learning increased workloads and deskilled academics. The need to maintain a constant presence was noted by Young (as cited in Ginn & Hammond, 2012, p. 251), who observed that effective online teaching requires “considerable attention to facilitating the course and being absorbed with communication … and working hard to meet the varied needs and demands of the students”. The success of online learning is dependent on the abilities and capacities of faculty and instructors. Likewise, Ginn and Hammond (2012) argue for a need for learner readiness, including an ability to manage their own learning and respond to the opportunities that flexible learning offers. The survey showed that a third of schools offered two-thirds of online master’s level programs in public administration, suggesting that the growth in online programs would come from existing providers expanding provision. Others were noted as considering entering the market but, as Ginn and Hammond (2012) found out, the availability of qualified and experienced staff to work in an online environment was the biggest limiting factor. The key motivation for entry to online learning was to increase enrolments and to build flexibility for students and staff. The survey found a diversity of approaches to learning, suggesting that the online mode does not hamper pedagogic plurality. In general, Ginn and Hammond (2012, p. 268) concluded that As noted in several previous studies, as a field, we need to embrace the idea that not all faculty, and certainly not all students, are going to find the online environment conducive to learning. To be successful in online coursework, students need to be relatively technologically savvy, selfdisciplined, and capable of absorbing difficult material independently.

Those authors (Ginn & Hammond, 2012, p. 268) agreed that online learning would continue to play an important role in professional education, and in particular master’s degrees, but they also provided a cautionary note on the need to be strategic about the use of online learning and course offerings:

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Online education is an integral part of public affairs education, and its trajectory moves upward within the field of public administration. Bearing in mind that the primary goal stated for offering courses is to reach more students, schools need to be strategic and deliberate in offering courses.

The shift of master’s degree programs into online formats has been accelerated by internationalisation, and there is now considerable interest in responding to the global dimensions of learning.

Developing a Master’s Degree to Promote Global Learning The earlier sections of this chapter have documented the general direction of contemporary developments in master’s degrees that are strongly influenced by the professionalisation of the degree, its internationalisation, and the utilisation of delivery modes using online learning. Included in these developments is also a changed approach to the relationship between theory and practice, with an emphasis on activities that promote active engagement with situated learning toward an objective of improvement and transformation. This means that there are several key developments at both the international and national levels that need to be considered, and these can be categorised as the following: x The internationalisation of graduate studies and the need to develop a transnational delivery of teaching programs. x The need to integrate professional practice, theory building and research into a holistic program that responds to the workplace needs of students. x The need to include accreditation and quality assurance necessary for recognition by professional bodies and international agencies. x The need to respond to a global market through new technologies of learning, including an integrated package of learning management, communications, and social media style applications as a well as portfolio development. Conceptualising such a degree in the School of Education at Charles Darwin University commenced in 2011. The motivation for change was accelerated by a need for the School of Education to diversify its teaching portfolio and move away from a dependence on initial teacher education programs. Paramount was the need to respond to the emergence of the higher standards required under the Australian Qualifications Framework (AQF), which mandated the volumes of learning, the nature of learning outcomes and the relative complexity of learning relative to other

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qualifications. The AQF established protocols around threshold standards to consolidate this differentiation between awards, as well as common standards around award nomenclatures. Meeting the AQF award requirements by January 2015 was necessary for programs and degree courses to comply with the Australian higher education accreditation process. These factors contribute to a shorter shelf life for existing master’s degrees and a reoccurring development cycle of curriculum and innovation. Key to this is differentiating postgraduate studies from undergraduate degrees and responding to the need to include strategies that develop advanced and expert learning. Related to this is integration of research and research pathways to capitalise on the role of master’s degrees as a pathway to doctoral studies. Of critical importance is the need to build in an international dimension around topics and activities and an orientation toward an internationalised experience. This means exposing students to the international dimensions of issues and promoting opportunities for interaction and contact with students and learners from other countries and locations, recognising the importance of student mobility and study abroad. However, the notion of internationalisation is not simply a traditional view of a comparative paradigm but features a view of globalisation that includes a relationship between the local, the global and the national. Marginson (2004) argues that globalisation is a spread of cross-national and worldwide phenomena that includes the growing influence of local, regional and national contexts. This is a broader level of engagement than the notion of internationalisation because it includes more than a relationship between nations. Globalisation simultaneously involves the local, the national and international levels in multilateral relationships, where “weakened geography and political barriers configure a new world order of interdependence” (Marginson, 2004, p. 4). Marginson argues that these three domains of global, national and local all feed into each other to create a “glonacal” framework. Marginson concedes that although static boundaries exist, the global and the local are becoming increasingly inseparable as sites of production become joined and the mobility of capital and labour is accelerating. Facilitated by efficient, safe and cheaper travel as well as by digital technologies, business, labour and capital are increasingly integrated into borderless markets. In this environment,

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programs that equip students for acquiring the capabilities, capacities and experiences to engage in global settings are becoming critically important. Marginson (2004) argues that globally active institutions will be increasingly networked and those that are well connected will be able to expand their institutional capacity and influence. To facilitate these changes, institutional partnerships and collaborations that enable institutions to be recognised by each other and work together are of growing importance. This creates the potential for diverse and pluralistic models for engagement, but this is dependent on the framework that institutions utilise and the choices they make to engage with globalisation. While the emphasis on globalisation and global learning promotes a macro level perspective development, the workplace orientation brought by many students means that there also has to be a focus of master’s degrees on individualised learning centred around the diverse workplace needs of participating students. This integration also overcomes the critique that master’s degrees are “too theoretical” and do not lead to innovation and change in the workplace. Programs should enable students to utilise their degree as means of facilitating innovation and change of that sort. The learning design of the new Charles Darwin University Master of Education (International) degree borrowed strongly from the framework developed by a learning team at RMIT University, Australia, for a Master of Education Leadership and Management documented by Scown (2004). This framework was influenced by extensive work on multiliteracies and “learning by design” undertaken by Cope and Kalantzis (2000) and the New London Group (1996). Scown’s (2004) learning framework describes a three-staged learning process around the three domains of Issues, Communication and Transformation (ICT). This ICT model was used as a scaffold for learners to explore issues, analyse arguments and explore resolutions. Through each stage of the learning framework, students utilised a problem-based approach and a research focus on the impact on the workplace of the students. The CDU adaptation almost ten years later reflects a variation of the ICT domains but used a similar framework to promote a more autonomous and individualised approach and a greater orientation towards research within a coursework degree. The key difference between the earlier RMIT model developed by Scown and the CDU variation is that the notion of futures was incorporated into the latter. It is broader than instrumental and pragmatic fixes and attempts to enable students to reflect and interpret.

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Using the ICT approach as a foundation, the Master of Education (International) utilised a learning framework involving three domains which operate across the whole course, but are also used in framing each of the units of the course. They are: x Framing x Engaging x Futures The learning framework adopted for each unit across the program also utilises a relationship with the “real world of work”, encouraging students to engage in issues relevant to their own workplace. The students are guided to use this approach to focus on everyday issues that feature in their workplaces and relate these to their selected research areas.

Framing This stage concerns itself with the contemporary developments, shifts, controversies, headlines in the media, current research outputs and potential futures which are impacting on education and learning. These are emergent and often spontaneous outcomes from social, economic, political and cultural change. This domain is characterised as an exploration of divergent views as well as conflicts where parties compete for scarce resources, but also utilise different discourses. They might also represent changes to the established social order. Investigating the issues of globalisation and the geographic-socio-political tensions between “northsouth” and rural-urban divides is an ongoing feature of this domain. The Master of Education (International) uses a range of source materials to illustrate the dynamic quality of contemporary events, and calls upon graduate students to collaborate in the generation of content for their own learning and for dissemination to others. Framing allows the student to develop a foundation of “where things are at” and identify the key issues that need to be addressed and the resources available and necessary to allow this process. Framing also provides a foundation upon which new learning can occur.

Engaging This is a stage where contemporary issues are explored, documented, discussed and analysed as part of an ongoing professional discourse which involves policy makers, governments, professionals, students and the

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community. Scholarly debates, policy discussion and professional practice merge as issues become part of academic and policy discourses. It most often involves a synthesis of policy, research and practice. This is a dynamic, collaborative and negotiated process. In this domain, students are encouraged to adopt a perspective that will focus on a triangular relationship between policy, scholarly literature, and research and practice over a range of levels. The diagram illustrates the interrelated manner in which these elements interact.

Theory, literature & research What is the evidence and analysis of practice?

Practice What is happening in global and local settings? Policy What are the intentions of government and global agencies?

Figure 1: The engagement phase involves a synthesis of policy, research and practice.

Futures These represent the transformative outcomes and strategies that are implemented and lead to processes of improvement and change. These transformative possibilities are not simply the most effective and efficient remedies or technical fixes to issues. They should account for the complexities that characterise schools and educational organisations. A futures orientation also takes into account the transformative outcomes that each student may experience as a result of their learning, and also helps to focus them upon impacting change through transformative leadership. The organic features of organisations, which are in fact dynamic cultural sites, are considered and the quest for democratic and participatory responses is valued and promoted. Questions about power

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and authority, and who benefits from any arrangements, are a feature of the students’ learning experience and a view of the future. The resolution of problematic issues is often interpreted in terms of getting the right technical fix by applying the right policy. Originating from a systems-based view of phenomena, we currently see an emphasis on simplistic instrumental approaches to solving complex problems. Very often such an approach is reductionist and subordinates wider holistic perspectives on issues. It also has the effect of de-politicising and uncoupling issues from questions about equity and social justice. This features a tension between diverse theoretical paradigms and practical perspectives, and these are a continuing debate in education and training. Scientific approaches that value prediction and control through universal laws have dominated the study of management and have also colonised educational administration. Such approaches are critiqued and new ones that are inclusive need to be promoted. Policy formation often neglects the people’s needs and fails to understand the cultural context in which policy and practice are shaped. This does not assist in building a participatory approach to obtaining diverse views about how the future might be imagined. Responding to diversity needs to move beyond faddish changes and ought to genuinely apply inclusive methodologies about formulating ideas of the future. We also see the application of market ideology where debates are collapsed into simple matters of consumption, value and quality, and this has had the effect of obscuring wider concerns about access, equality and the social values. The subordination of other human values and the substitution of them with the values of commodification and consumerism is a feature of the latest variation of the rationale of capitalism. The fundamental conditions of global capitalism have a differential quality that sees a growing impoverishment and disempowerment. These conditions that perpetuate inequality and disadvantage present several challenges. There is firstly the challenge of disadvantage and then there is the challenge that emerges from the backlash that typifies reactions against globalisation. A retreat to the nostalgic notions of community and nation sees a reliance on mono-ethnic, mono-cultural, mono-lingual and mono-religious states. The growth of fundamentalism across the world suggests a futile attempt at the strengthening of certainty in the face of growing uncertainty and instability. Similarly, resistance to migration and restrictions on the movement of people see a hardening of

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attitudes towards difference in tough economic times. These trends arise at a time when governments and policy makers, internationally and nationally, are challenged to rethink assumptions about diversity, advantage, disadvantage, equity and access. These challenges make up the framework for the learning experiences in the Master of Education (International) documented and discussed in this book.

References CGS (Council of Graduate Schools). (2008). Data sources: International graduate programs 2007-08. Communicator. October edition. Retrieved January 20, 2015 from: http://www.cgsnet.org/ckfinder/userfiles/files/DataSources_2008_10.pdf Conrad, F. C, Haworth, J. G. & Millar, S. B. (1993). A silent success: Master’s education in the United States. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Cope, B. & Kalantzis, M. (Eds.). (2000). Multiliteracies: Literacy learning and the design of social futures. London: Routledge. Ginn, M. H. & Hammond, A. (2012). Online education in public affairs: Current state and emerging issues. Journal of Public Affairs Education, 18, 247-270. Retrieved December 17, 2015 from: http://www.ctg.oecd.naspaa.org/JPAEMessenger/Article/VOL182/JPAE18_02Final.pdf#page=9. Glazer-Raymo, J. (2005). Professionalizing graduate education: The master’s degree in the marketplace. ASHE Higher Education Report, 31(4). San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Holmes Group. (1986). Tomorrow's teachers: A report of the Holmes Group. East Lansing, MI: The Holmes Group. Knight, J. (2011). Doubts and dilemmas with double degree programs. Globalisation and internationalisation of higher education. [online monograph]. Revista de Universidad y Sociedad del Conocimiento (RUSC), 8, 297-312. Retrieved January 20, 2015 from: http://ecahe.eu/w/images/e/e6/Doubts_and_Dilemmas_with_Double_D egree_Programs.pdf. Marginson, S. (2004). Don’t leave me hanging on the Anglophone: The potential for online distance higher education in the Asia Pacific region. Higher Education Quarterly, 58(2/3), 74-113. New London Group. (1996). A pedagogy of multiliteracies: Designing social futures. Harvard Educational Review, 66(1), 60-92.

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Scown, A. (2004). Online supplementation of adult education: A change in pedagogy and a pedagogy of change. In P. Kell, S. Shore & M. Singh (Eds.), Adult education @21st century, 191-203. New York: Peter Lang. Shenton, G. & Houdayer, P. (2007). The Bologna effect: The emerging European master market. Global Focus, 1(2), 12-15. Stierer, B. (1998). Mastering Education: A preliminary analysis of academic literacy practices within masters-level courses in Education. Paper presented at Higher Education Close-Up conference, 6-8 July, University of Central Lancashire, Preston. Retrieved April 22, 2016 from: http://www.leeds.ac.uk/educol/documents/000000701.htm.

THE BUSINESS OF EDUCATION: CRITICAL REFLECTIONS BRIAN MOONEY CHARLES DARWIN UNIVERSITY, AUSTRALIA

Abstract This chapter addresses a particular vision of education grounded in the Liberal Arts tradition. I argue that contemporary educational practice and policy, particularly in universities but also in schools, has lost sight of the proper goals of education. I begin by presenting three vignettes designed to highlight firstly, a central problem for the epistemology of education, and secondly a vision of what a university education ought to be. The three vignettes taken together focus on the learner – the person who is in the process of learning. This provides the context to a broad critique of contemporary educational practice and goals. This chapter attempts to sketch some ideas as to how concepts like truth and goodness interact with and impact on our understanding of what a good education might look like.

The Day That Santa Claus Died I tell this story to indicate just how deeply the problems of intellectual and affective identity shape the contours of a life, and how bigotry and myopia can be deeply engrained in a psyche as a result of what befalls us and which only later take the shape of an intellectual position. I grew up in a city – Belfast – and a country – the north of Ireland – that was from my earliest youth riven by factional dispute. My own movement towards philosophy is partially explained by the attempt to understand the conditions that framed my responses to this world. First of all, I grew up in an impoverished background. I lived in a small Catholic and Nationalist enclave of some 1,000 families completely surrounded by Protestant and

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Loyalist districts. Our family lived in a modest home with two rooms upstairs and two rooms with a scullery downstairs, with an outside toilet in the backyard. We had no garden and the front door looked directly on the pavement of the tenement street. The old linen mills that had provided employment for my grandparent’s generation were long closed by the time I was a lad, and the major source of employment in East Belfast was in ship-building. The great cranes of Harland and Wolff provided the daily backdrop towards the sea, while the Black Mountain loomed gloomily to the north. In Ballymacarrat, my area, there had been for some time an effective rate of 80% unemployment among Catholics. Protestant families living only a stone’s throw away were employed for the most part in the docks and among the other attendant industries built on the back of sea trade. My father is a large man of almost six feet two inches – a traditional Catholic and family man – a man who under the most difficult circumstances lived out his religious beliefs with a very old fashioned morality. He was a man who learned to do housework due to long periods of unemployment when few men of his generation would have done so. A man who never went to the pub and, although overtly emotionally restrained, lived for his family. One Christmas Eve, I must have been about 12 years old (and this may give you some idea of the naivety of the times or, at least, my own naivety), I told my Mum and Dad around 8.00 p.m. on a typically dark and wet Belfast winter night that I was going for a walk to see if there were any signs of Santa Claus’s imminent arrival. I even remember on returning home that I told my parents that I had thought I’d heard the tinkling of bells from Santa’s sleigh. No doubt smiling to each other, my Mum and Dad told me that Santa does not come to children unless they are asleep. So after laying out a glass of milk on the unlit hearth, I went up to bed where my sisters were already sleeping. Nevertheless, I was far too excited to sleep and, some time later, I crept to the stairs and, since the parlour door was open, I peered in. It was the first time in my life that I had ever seen my father crying. He was very upset and I gathered from the tearful conversation he was having with my mother that he had just been laid off from a job in a large bakery because they had found out he was a Catholic. As a result, he was unable to buy us the Christmas presents he had hoped to. At the time, this was deeply confusing and even frightening for me; not only had I seen a side of this normally emotionally restrained man I had not seen before, but I had also learnt that Santa Claus was not real.

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As a young person, the effect of this double revelation was traumatic. It marked the beginnings of an initiation into a sense of bigotry, of identifying with an economically, politically, educationally and socially deprived tribe. The intellectually hardened positions adopted as a young adult – anti-British, anti-Loyalist, pro-Republican – were to a large extent post facto rationalisations that occurred as a result of this incident and many others to follow. As years went by and one is struck by the monstrous inequities that plagued the political situation in the North of Ireland, it became all too easy to render the world into pigeon-hole us/them scenarios and to excuse a culture of murder. Perhaps the greatest irony in my story of living in such a milieu is that while I, like most Catholics, would appeal to considerations of justice and injustice as ways of explicating our predicament, so too did Protestants. The fact that many Protestants lived in arguably only marginally better economic situations did not affect, until much later, my inability to identify with their identity and have concern for justice for them and, to an even greater extent, my antipathy towards, as I saw it, the source of the injustices in the historical duplicity of the British government. My own experience bolstered by the violent deaths of family members, the bombings of our home, internment without trial and daily harassment from Loyalist gangs and the British forces are mere cameos in a situation that must be writ large. There are very few people in the North of Ireland, including the hundreds of British soldiers and those killed in the bombing campaigns in England, who are untouched by events. Each has a story and a different set of evaluative criteria within which identity is forged. Each has their own conception of justice and injustice.

Newman – The Unity of Inquiry John Henry Newman (1982, p. 75), in his seminal work The Idea of a University, presents a vision of a good university education as follows: I have said that all branches of knowledge are connected together, because the subject-matter of knowledge is intimately united in itself, as being the acts and the work of the Creator. Hence it is that the Sciences, into which our knowledge may be said to be cast, have multiplied bearings one on another, and an internal sympathy, and admit, or rather demand, comparison and adjustment. They complete, correct, balance each other. This consideration, if well-founded, must be taken into account, not only as regards the attainment of truth, which is their common end, but as regards the influence which they exercise upon those whose education consists in the study of them. I have said already, that to give undue prominence to one is to be unjust to another; to neglect or supersede these is to divert

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The Business of Education: Critical Reflections those from their proper object. It is to unsettle the boundary lines between science and science, to disturb their action, to destroy the harmony which binds them together. Such a proceeding will have a corresponding effect when introduced into a place of education. There is no science but tells a different tale, when viewed as a portion of a whole, from what it is likely to suggest when taken by itself, without the safeguard, as I may call it, of other.

John Stuart Mill (1867/2011), similarly, presents a vision of a good university education: Universities are not intended to teach the knowledge required to fit men for some special mode of gaining their livelihood. Their object is not to make skilful lawyers, or physicians, or engineers, but capable and cultivated human beings. … What professional men should carry away with them from a University, is not professional knowledge, but that which should direct the use of their professional knowledge, and bring the light of general culture to illuminate the technicalities of a special pursuit. … In every generation, and now more rapidly than ever, the things which it is necessary that somebody should know are more and more multiplied. Every department of knowledge becomes so loaded with details, that one who endeavours to know it with minute accuracy, must confine himself to a smaller and smaller portion of the whole extent: every science and art must be cut up into subdivisions, until each man’s portion, the district which he thoroughly knows, bears about the same ratio to the whole range of useful knowledge that the art of putting on a pin’s head does to the field of human industry. Now, if in order to know that little completely, it is necessary to remain wholly ignorant of all the rest, what will soon be the worth of a man, for any human purpose except his own infinitesimal fraction of human wants and requirements? His state will be even worse than that of simple ignorance. Experience proves that there is no one study or pursuit, which, practised to the exclusion of all others, does not narrow and pervert the mind; breeding in it a class of prejudices special to that pursuit, besides a general prejudice, common to all narrow specialities, against large views, from an incapacity to take in and appreciate the grounds of them. We should have to expect that human nature would be more and more dwarfed, and unfitted for great things, by its very proficiency in small ones. But matters are not so bad with us: there is no ground for so dreary an anticipation. It is not the utmost limit of human acquirement to know only one thing, but to combine a minute knowledge of one or a few things with a general knowledge of many things. … It is this combination which gives an enlightened public: a body of cultivated intellects, each taught by its attainments in its own province what real knowledge is, and knowing enough of other subjects to be able to discern who are those that know them better.

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The Story of Teaching and Learning Contemporary education is characterised by what Newman and Mill would refer to as a “servile” mentality1. The dominant paradigm of education is one that is largely dependent on the perceived needs of an advanced capitalist economy. Teachers are expected to produce learners who have mastered skills that in various ways service the economy, ranging from the specialised professions right the way to unskilled workers. The unskilled workers are of course a necessary component of governmental educational policy since the economy requires unskilled workers and, as a result, cannot allow for a fully highly educated populace. However, there is something grotesque in thinking of education as servicing economic models. All education is about drawing out the powers, however varied, of each individual learner so that each can take his or her rightful place as reflective and independent participants in family and socio-political life. This, in turn, means that education is primarily moral education – it is the teasing out of the powers (virtues) that help us all to flourish as individuals and members of broader communities. So at the heart of educational practice, we urgently need an account of the primary goods that enable us to flourish individually and communally. Nonetheless, the sort of education I am here advocating cuts directly against the ethos of our age. It is likely to be an education in subversion that would lead to a rejection of the social and political order. The reason for this is simple enough. Such an education would focus on questioning, and questioning is itself subversive. Questioning sub specie boni would involve investigating the goods of particular activities. In other words, the learner would learn not just the requisite skills associated with various kinds of activities and practices, but also which goods are associated with these activities and practices. The learner will have moved beyond knowing that and knowing how to knowing why. But asking this sort of question is likely, at times, to elicit negative responses. Some activities and practices do not clearly serve our individual and social goods and so the questioner is left with choices that are inimical to the socio-economic order. (Teachers are, of course, lucky in this respect since teaching, even

 1

The traditional distinction between the Liberal and Servile Arts rests on the idea that a Liberal education is not focussed on specific practical or job-oriented goals.

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when stymied by economic constraints or by personal faults, clearly services goods of the individual and society.) Much of contemporary education suffers from two serious difficulties. The first is that effective teaching and learning requires small class sizes so that teachers have adequate time to meet the individual needs of learners. The second reason is related to the first and derives directly from an economic paradigm of teaching and learning. The test of a good education is the kind of person that the learner becomes. However, contemporary education in keeping with its economic model has adopted a measurement model of productivity. The standards of success in this model, whether in schools or universities, are examination results and, particularly in universities, the artificial measurement (predominantly quantitative) of research. At this point, it is worth pursuing a little further my distinction of knowthat, know-how and know-why. All education involves know-that (knowledge of facts), know-how (skills) and know-why (theoretical understanding). Much of our preliminary education is concerned with know-that insofar as we require a body of established facts and truths in order to master a domain of knowledge. A student must know that the materials required to paint include brushes, pencils, canvas, colours, etc. before she can proceed to learn “how-to” paint. Similarly, a mechanic needs to know that the cars that she works on operate with certain parts and that certain tools are to be used for this task, others for that task. On the whole, I believe our education systems worldwide have done a good job at this level. However, there is one area in the know-that domain which has received less attention – a fundamental requirement of a genuine appreciation of facts and truths involves experience and even imaginative participation. Who else but a lover could say that “It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?” And only when we have loved do we understand the point the lover makes. The experiential dimension of teaching, learning and understanding naturally finds its place also in know-how. Somewhat surprisingly, in the context of the classroom and formal teaching, our common-sense understanding of how we, as individual learners, come to learn how to do things is often neglected. Take for example learning how to swim. We learn to swim by swimming, just as we learn to ride a bike by riding one, and learn to speak a language by speaking it. Much of the art in teaching

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these forms of know-how comes in selecting and structuring those experiences that occasion the development of the desired skills. For instance, a swimming teacher encourages students not only to get into the water but also to practise (and thereby learn) certain elements of swimming before others. We typically learn how to kick before we know how to do arm strokes. The swimming teacher has the student practise all of the necessary elements in sequence, until the student is able to experience, from the inside, what it feels like to be engaged in successful practice. Finally, the student leaves the shallow end of the pool and reproduces all of these elements, and the result is swimming. Skilled swimming would then involve consolidated know-how. Excellent swimmers, who are very skilled at swimming, practise more and more often than those who are less skilled. But it is common for teachers, who know at the personal level what is required for learning know-how, to forget these experiential insights when they enter the classroom. Know-how can only be acquired through experience, but instead, students are frequently addressed using pedagogical methods better suited to the imparting of facts, that is, knowthat. It is as if we asked our students to read a swimming textbook, have them pass a multiple-choice exam, and then expect them to be swimmers. Moreover, the successful appropriation of know-how is often, perhaps always, dependent on forms of know-that. Know-how and know-that interpenetrate. I may know how to drive a car, having learnt how to do so in Ireland, but if I do not know that it would be extremely dangerous to drive on the left-hand-side of the road in the USA, then my know-how is seriously impaired. Know-how thus seems to require know-that. Moreover, the linkages between know-how and know-that imply considerations as to the appropriateness of pedagogical practice. They also imply regulatory, policy and assessment considerations in an institutional context in relation to educators and the efficacy of practice. If we want to educate our students properly in respect to know-that and know-how, we need to give careful attention to the level of general awareness of such considerations, what skills/capacities need to exist in educators to teach effectively, what are the assessment, moderation and monitoring concerns institutionally to understand the effectiveness of teaching and learning, and how this plays out into individual and institutional development. But these considerations then lead us into questions about know-why.

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There is good reason to think that both know-how and know-that are hierarchically related to know-why. It is when we talk of know-why that we most easily talk of genuine understanding. Such understanding moves well beyond knowing-how or knowing-that. Know-why is concerned with uncovering causes, ends, and goals; with identifying that for the sake of which something is done, undertaken or pursued, or holds true. And here is the key focus of my meditation: our various fields of study and inquiry illuminate each other, and it seems to me that this is what is in danger of being lost or at least forgotten in contemporary education. The desire to know-why, as Aristotle intimates, is a fundamental dimension of the human condition — as evidenced by our sense of wonder and our attempts to formulate and reformulate questions and answers that open and deepen our understanding. We are naturally curious. Even as infants, the desire to understand and experience the world around us is exhibited in sensuous corporeal gropings, putting anything to hand into one’s mouth. Know-why responds to an aspect of our being. Or, to say the same thing in different words, human beings are naturally inclined towards knowing and find their fulfilment at least partially constituted by coming to know why things are as they are. By reflecting on this fundamental orientation of our nature as encountered in our social settings, we can collaboratively extend our questioning to everything in our collective range of experience that can be experienced as questionable. Knowing-why (as understanding) also comes in degrees, not just in respect to the marvelous diaphaneity of the objects and branches of knowledge, but also in respect to their appropriation by given temperaments and persons. Not everyone can be a Plato or an Aristotle, but everyone seeks meaning and understanding and is hence a metaphysician. One of the central problems for universities in the future and at the moment is to facilitate such a vision of education. But such a vision is essentially and not arbitrarily interdisciplinary. For the better part of 2000 years in the West, it was the discipline of philosophy that provided the bridge between disciplines, but under the conditions of contemporary advanced market capitalism, philosophy has been sidelined in the academies, not because people are not interested in philosophy, but due to the overriding force of government economic agenda. We urgently need a return to a deeper understanding of what education is supposed to be about. But the very frameworks that are the standard markers of academic achievement are systematically arranged against achieving this. Publish or perish. Research silos. In order to succeed as a

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young university researcher, it is advisable not to engage in interdisciplinary work. But the habits of mind that call for such focus, increasingly narrow and specialised research, once formed are hard to break. The answers to our questions and how we understand these answers are themselves expressions of a deeper attachment to getting things right, in a word, to truth. The very possibility of sustained sociability, of understanding and being understood, implies a tacit commitment to truth and therefore to the standards and appropriate methods by which we can reasonably attain truth. Indeed, we adapt our methods of seeking truth in response to the sort of truth we are trying to obtain. For instance, if we are confused by the meaning of a word, we might consult a dictionary, but if we are curious about the features of the moon, we have recourse to a telescope. Commitment to truth entails existential commitments on the parts of both teachers and learners to veracity as a virtue, enabling meanings to be reliably drawn from discourse with others and also to the canons of reasonable argumentation. These specific canons may be demanded by the rules that govern the conditions of our being. Our curiosity would be undirected, and hence unsatisfied, without a commitment to ontological and logical principles such as the principle of non-contradiction. This is a logical principle because the conjunction ‘p & not-p’ is always false. This logical principle, however, reflects the ontological commonplace that the same thing cannot both be and not be at the same time and in the same respect: Fionnuala cannot both be and not be a human being at the same time; she either is human or not. Moreover, know-why as it is directed towards truth requires that our education systems need to prioritise inquiry into ethics, and more broadly, into ethical futures and a sustainable world. Know-why is likely to provide us with the requisite ways in which humanity might progress. Know-why needs to be privileged in our curricula because there is an abiding relation and deep connection between the activity of questioning and the selves that question. Questioning is how humans manifest their natural wonder, and the most satisfying answers to the best questions are inevitably concerned with know-why. The self that questions is defined (at least partially) by the questions asked and the sorts of answers arrived at. This is why education, in its broadest sense, involves self-making or selfrealisation. To draw out the powers of the student is to help the student be

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more than what he or she was before; that is, successful education entails self-transcendence. All of the relations captured by know-that, know-how and know-why are transformed in the activities associated with education: teacher, student, and appropriated understanding are altered as teaching and learning illuminate their subjects. There is, however, a fundamental problem to developing the sort of education system I have sketched here. The conditions of advanced capitalist societies are wedded to liberal ideology. This is a difficulty because liberal ideology rejects the notion of objective good. So inquiry sub specie boni is, practically speaking, ruled out, since it requires an objective account of the good. I cannot explore this issue in detail here, but perhaps I can hazard a few remarks by bringing the essay full circle and discussing story-telling. Alasdair MacIntyre (2002, pp. 9-10) writes: We can all become storytellers and everyone needs to learn how to become a good storyteller and when and when not to tell a story. Everyone also needs to become a good listener to other people’s stories – someone who can tell good storytelling from bad and who knows when to respond to a story and when to keep silent. … Storytelling is important because only when students are at home with a variety of kinds of narratives can they be expected to see the lives of others and their own lives as embodying narratives. … Here what is fundamental is to recognize that each life is a single, yet complex, narrative of a single subject, someone whose life is a whole into which the different parts have to be integrated so that the pursuit of the goods of home and family reinforces the pursuits of the workplace and vice versa and so too with other diverse goods of a particular life. To integrate them is a task rarely ever completed. That task is to understand those diverse goods as contributing to a single overall good – the ultimate good of this or that individual. … The educator’s problem is to take students from a grasp of narratives and narrative forms to the point at which they, having recognized their own lives as narratives begin to ask: What would it be to complete the narrative of my life successfully? The student who becomes able to ask such a question seriously is in the best position to resist those tendencies to fragment the self that arise from the compartmentalization of social life.

Conclusion I began this essay with a story but a defective one, and this is why, despite the crucial importance of story-telling, it remains a double-edged sword. There are good narratives and bad ones. Ones that help us understand and

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effectively participate in genuine goods and others that cut us off from truth and goodness. And yet, the great narratives that parents have consistently used to help shape the affective responses of children seem to have a common concern with an objective good. Perhaps it is the very ordinary instinct of the story-telling parent that provides us with some degree of optimism for a good education. “Let us” [says Plato] “search for artists who are gifted to discern the true nature of the beautiful and graceful; then will our youth dwell in a land of health, amid fair sights and sounds, and receive the good in everything; and beauty, the effluence of fair works, shall flow into the eye and ear, alike a health-giving breeze from a purer region, and insensibly drain the soul from earliest years into likeness and sympathy with the beauty of reason.” (Plato, The republic, III, 360BC/1994-2000)).

References MacIntyre, A. (2002). Dialogue with Joseph Dunne. Journal of Philosophy of Education, 36(1), 9-10. Mill, I. J. S. (2011). Inaugural address delivered to the University of St. Andrews 1867. In T. B. Mooney & M. Nowacki (Eds). Understanding teaching and learning, 215-22. Exeter, UK: St. Andrews Studies in Philosophy and Public Affairs; Imprint Academic. (Original work published 1867.) Newman, J. H. (1982). The idea of a university (M. J. Svaglic, Ed.). Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press. Plato. (1994-2000). The republic (B. Jowett, Trans.). Internet Classics Archive. Retrieved October 19, 2015, from: http://classics.mit.edu/Plato/republic.html. (Original work published 360 BC.)

RIDING THE THROUGHFLOW: SEEKING CULTURAL HUMILITY TO NAVIGATE SOME CHALLENGES IN CONDUCTING CROSS-CULTURAL RESEARCH AND EDUCATION SUE ERICA SMITH CHARLES DARWIN UNIVERSITY, AUSTRALIA

The author is grateful to Ms. Hira Haroon and Ms. Ashwani Rehal for generously allowing her to cite their work as part of her own reflective practice.

Abstract The Indonesian Throughflow is an ocean current that traverses between the Pacific and Indian Oceans. It is an apt metaphor for an educator and researcher situated at the “Top End” of Australia, who teaches and supervises Indigenous and international students and traverses cultural straits and currents in her research within SouthEast Asia. This chapter explores notions of cultural competence and how elevating the importance of culture as part of dedicated practice in cultural humility is presented as a way forward to build more sustainable and equitable educational relationships in these contexts. I am walking on the beach with a colleague and my dogs. The day is muggy and the water is warm, but we dare not enter. It holds a heady mix of creatures lurking. Will they bite, or sting or lacerate me completely? We wiggle our toes at the waters’ edge and flick around in the safer pools that have formed away from the shoreline. There are storm clouds a-billow, but it is unlikely that it will rain. The sea is calm today yet the surface belies present currents, powerful currents whose flux is always some tousle for identity. The Arafura meets the Timor Sea; they look pretty much the same

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to me, on the surface, on my beach, the one I always go to. Beyond, but not so far (much closer than my family in southern Australia) surges the Indonesian Throughflow. This mighty ocean current funnels water from the Pacific Ocean through the Indonesian archipelago and around New Guinea and Timor to cool and freshen the Indian Ocean, spawn life, new life, myriad possibilities. Just over there, a massive churn and negotiation of currents, but it is smooth and sparkly on the top. There are families black and white picnicking, except the Aboriginal people are in the shade. Their voices, inaudible, roar against the tide, “This is my country!” To the back is my university, but not before ochre sand, dripstone caves, mangroves and valiant casuarinas weathering the vagaries of the tropics. There is a rowdy band of red-tailed black cockatoos, acting like ratbags in the treetops, and circling above it all are Brahminy kites, always up there, especially in “the dry”. Brahminy kites: perhaps they are also common to India, Pakistan, Nepal, Vietnam, Philippines, Singapore, China, Thailand, and Indonesia, throughout South-East Asia, where our students come from? I wonder whether any see them in the sky right now and think of home. I really do not know much about them, the international students.

Cultural Competence Equality of opportunity is a guiding principle in Australian education, found in vision and mission statements and codes of conduct throughout the country. Our university is no exception and actively works to uphold this ideal. The Code of Conduct somewhat predictably includes, “We value equality of opportunity and celebrate diversity. We recognise and support people from all ethnic, cultural and social backgrounds, including Indigenous Australians and people living with disability” (CDU, n.d.). Predictably too, it is to be achieved by inclusion, valuing diversity and non-discriminatory practices. However, awareness and respect for all cultural backgrounds through developing cultural competence and acknowledgement of diversity potentially falls short when measured against my own and my colleagues’ experiences working cross-culturally in higher education. The university positions itself as a higher education provider that is attractive and responsive to international neighbours in South-East Asia and has a dedicated commitment to improving access and success for Indigenous Australian students. When staff secure tenure, an Indigenous cross-cultural awareness training day is mandatory, and upon completion, a certificate of competence is awarded. Within the School of Education, we are all educators whose diverse backgrounds and experience could

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attest cultural competence, and colleagues and I work in a program that delivers a Bachelor of Education to Indigenous pre-service teachers in their remote communities. Knowledge, some skills, and a certificate in cultural competence are scant preparation for teaching and learning in these contexts. I pick up the 4XD twin cab at 6:00 and am on the highway by 6:30 a.m. getting some distance before the rising sun reaches cabin height. The Bureau of Meteorology site says that the road is still closed to the town, but the school has confirmed that it is open. I hope there will be no more rain. I pass a few road trains and reach the first turn-off, and I’m into the windy stretch past anthills and hoping that no wallabies spring out onto the road. A few hours on and I reach the community. It’s their first subject in the course, Academic Literacies. We are a couple of weeks into it, and each time I go down there, I rack my brains to find points of engagement, relevance, or even faint enjoyment. In this remote classroom, the conventions of the academy are sifted, summarised, redrafted and crafted (there will be no plagiarism here) and referenced (meticulously). It is so white, so prescriptive, so alien. I am white, prescriptive, an alien. The elders sit outside under a tree. They are keeping an eye on the students, and me. It is important that we all get through.

Payi Ford (2010) writes of her experiences as an Indigenous woman negotiating the foreign, even hostile, terrain of academia, requiring the alertness of a “hunter”. In the community, myself, I am hyper-aware, looking for signs, wanting to understand the peoples, their country, their challenges and their strengths. This need for cultural awareness and a general knowledge gathered from a variety of sources (Hardy & Laszlosfly, 1995; Sermeno, 2011) goes beyond my competence. I had worked with Aboriginal people/Indigenous Australians (preferred terminology will vary) in education for many years in other states prior to coming to the Northern Territory, had avidly read books about Australia’s dark histories of death and dispossession across terra nullius, and knew of these intergenerational effects and associated health and education inequities. But I was yet to know the particularities of these students and their community, and I tried to work with sensitivity to carefully and respectfully compare and contrast cultural differences through the lens of my own cultural experiences and make appropriate responses (Hardy & Laszlosfly, 1995). What might be the reasons for M not speaking or for T not to sit next to male J? Why has S left the class and did not return? Was I too directive?

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The year has moved on and our class sits under the big kapok on the river bank. The flowers are falling and it’s soon time for turtles. The students are explaining signs for the changing seasons. No, not just “the wet” and “the dry” but six, which note nuances between the extent of humidity or dryness, falling leaves, blooms and animal activities. We are working on our English assignment and using Maranunggu, Ngan’gityerri, MurrinhPatha, lingua franca Kriol, smatterings of other languages that I foolishly can’t pronounce, and English to identify parts of speech. Syntax and grammar are understood in other languages better than in Standard Australian English. We decide that rather than write individual assignments, we will make a film in country and use our recorded speech for the required linguistic analysis. We will ask permission from the elders. I will negotiate a change in assessment within the faculty.

We were making the film aligned with Somerville’s (1999, 2005, 2012) framework, where the relationship to place is constituted in stories and where each student’s learning is embodied and centred in the experience of place. These embodied systems of knowledge were shared and negotiated between the students and me as the lecturer. At one point, I had suggested that we film a sign asking visitors not to enter a women’s place, but after discussion amongst the students, this too was deemed inappropriate. The stories that came from doing the assignment, our own and from other places and times, held a tangible quality where the “past was interfusing with the present”. As we recognised that we were creating a new and shared story, we were “selves in the making” (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 19): the students as competent university students – the assignment was marked independently – and me, possibly, as a more competent educator. But “competence” does not do justice to our collective experience. Cultural intelligence (Earley & Ang, 2003) is a more accurate term in that the exercise involved a successful navigation and adaptation of different cultural experiences and settings in ways that were both natural and respectful of our respective cultures. In Indigenous education, it is often called “two-way learning”.

Cultural Humility As an educator entering a community and as a guest, I felt humbled that the students shared so generously aspects of their life stories, histories, land and cultures. It would also be hubris to conceive that my colleagues would not share experiences similar to mine and would act with cultural intelligence and humility or, to use a term that has appeared in medical disciplines, with cultural humility.

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Cultural humility emerged as a more suitable goal for intercultural medical education. Tervalon and Murray-Garcia (1998, p. 117) defined it as “a lifelong commitment to self-evaluation and self-critique, to redressing the power imbalances in the patient-physician dynamic, and to developing mutually beneficial and non-paternalistic clinical and advocacy partnerships with communities on behalf of individuals and defined populations”. Later, Wear (2008) contrasted competency-based approaches to diversity with a cultural humility approach. Central to her thesis is the notion that professionalism requires application of knowledge in unique situations for effective decisions to be made in treatment, and that (health) practitioners need to hold sensitive and appropriate dispositions, over and above knowledge and skill. These alone are “insufficient without a simultaneous and ongoing process of humble reflection on how one’s knowledge is always partial, incomplete, and inevitably biased” (Wear, 2008, p. 626). More simply, Reynoso-Vallejo (2009) contrasted cultural competence with humility where competence was equated with knowledge and humility with understanding and found the latter more effective. Foster (2009) emphasised the importance of long-term relationships in international partnerships. These are pertinent considerations for educators. Reflection plays an essential role in educative practices and we accept that our knowledge will forever remain limited. Particularly in Indigenous contexts, we remain acutely mindful to avoid paternalism. Also, in accord with Hook, Davis, Owen, Worthington and Utsey (2013, p. 354), positive relationships with Indigenous students are built upon “the ability to maintain an interpersonal stance that is other-oriented, in relation to aspects of cultural identity that are most important to the client”. However, this cultural humility that is other-oriented and attentive to cultural identity, now requisite in remote localities, can be more difficult to employ on campus with the exigencies of academic work and with cohorts of students that have come from abroad to study at our university.

Approaching Internationalised Education Rather than a class by a riverbank, students come from over the Indonesian Throughflow and their arrival brings turbulence: relocation, dislocation, a new country, new culture, new academic culture, language and invariably visas that tick like a clock. Rightly, the academic community is attentive because these students need to negotiate a new teaching and learning environment and a new language and culture

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(Harryba, Guilfoyle & Knight, 2011). Language proficiency is an important variable influencing academic outcomes (Andrade, 2006; Cotton & Conrow, 1998) and, more than language barriers, a potential clash of academic cultures (Ballard & Clanchy, 1997). Handa and Fallon (2006) have laid down the bottom line: economic benefits are derived from international enrolments and our system depends on this sector. With the accrual of fees comes an institutional responsibility to provide measures whereby the skills, knowledge, prior teaching and learning methodologies and language competency of these students can be capitalised upon (Handa & Fallon, 2006). For the internationalisation of higher education to be sustainable, i.e. that these students will continue to enrol in our universities, course delivery needs to have embedded in it respect for the history, traditions, cultures and priorities of each individual nation (Knight & de Wit 1997; Knight 1999). These can never be construed as valueneutral (Gu, Schweisfurth & Day 2010). With the pressures on the university to deliver a course within prescribed timeframes and the concomitant pressure upon students to meet assessment hurdles, there is a potential danger for faculty to lose sight of these broader intentions. While course delivery, academic conventions and assessments can be unavoidably prescriptive, an unreflective default position might mean replication of colonising practices that would be anathema to globalised or internationalised education. Bhaba (1994, p. 172) concedes that translational aspects of culture in a globalised context are “a rather complex issue”, but nevertheless important. The transnational dimension of cultural transformation, such as migration, dislocation and indeed commitment to relocate individually or as a family for the purposes of study, engenders a complex process of signification for the students. Bhaba continues (1994, p. 172): It becomes crucial to distinguish between the semblance and the similitude of the symbols across diverse cultural experiences – literature, art, music, ritual, life, death – and the social specificity of each of these productions of meaning as they circulate as signs within specific contextual locations and social systems of value. … The great, though unsettling, advantage of this position is that it makes you increasingly aware of the construction of culture and the invention of tradition.

In our newly formed International Graduate Centre of Education, we are creating, whether wittingly or otherwise, new cultures and traditions. Our engagements with Indigenous students have seen teachers and students shaped by educational interactions that found room to include the similitude of the symbols across diverse cultural experiences, but this

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orientation to education is imperative when in a community as a guest. On campus, this dynamic is reversed as we become hosts to international students and it is timely now to draw upon this learning in our internationalised host context.

Hospitality Biggs (1997) cautioned that the internationalisation of education can become code for the “westernisation of education” and the dominance of western academic culture, wherein may lie assumptions about the conventions of this academic culture and that they are either universally known, or, at least, can be applied universally (Vandermensbrugghe, 2004). However, these conventions, such as the rules of plagiarism, critical dialogues and self-directed learning, can be more readily decoded and addressed than the subtler, but nevertheless relevant, sociocultural dynamics and concomitant ethical imperatives. Here, the conventions surrounding hospitality and roles and expectations of hosts and guests warrant some examination, for these can be markedly different across cultures. At the university, there remains an ongoing tension between upholding the dominant tradition of the academy and the moral relationship with the other, in this case the students, and the implied obligations of host/guest relations. Derrida's (2000a, 2000b) deconstruction of the laws of hospitality (while never pragmatically enacted as absolutes) examines the norms, duties, rights and conventions between hosts and guests. His focus upon temporality directs us towards reflexive practices that shape individual and collective dispositions to acknowledge the claims of others, the caution being that the foreigner/international student comes from over there to this place – but one is dependent upon the other, and therein lies a power relationship of inclusion and exclusion. These laws of hospitality are always complex, but, as lecturers, we also inhabit an ethico-political space where cultural competence and tolerance of our students’ individual sociocultural differences, cultural diversity, belies an implicit imposition of power. Tolerance is never neutral. For Frankenburg (1993, p. 172), this non-critical and assumed tolerance perpetuates a (white) “normative space and set of identities, which those who inhabit them … frequently cannot see or name”. Hage (1998, p. 87), sees it as a strategy “aimed at reproducing and disguising relationships of

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power in society, … a form of symbolic violence in which a mode of domination is presented as a form of egalitarianism”. In the two former students’ writings that are to follow, we can see how the higher degree thesis was deployed as a means to speak to the academy on these very issues, and in a manner that they could be heard.

Hira’s thesis Hira was up front with the rationale behind her study: “teaching staff shares a great deal of responsibility by admitting these students into their course programmes” (Haroon, 2014, p. 8). Her thesis was measured and did not apportion sole responsibility onto academic staff. In terms of required standards of academic language, she conceded, “[an] international student’s flexibility in terms of their willingness to adapt to the host university’s linguistic requirements and their higher self-efficacy levels can prove to be really helpful in this regard” (p. 34) and she railed against deficit models where students might consider themselves disadvantaged when compared with native English speaking students. Nor was she to abide the suggestion that accommodating for educational and cultural differences can result in compromising academic standards (Kayrooz, Kinnear & Preston, 2001). However, she used her pen to point out power differentials and academic responsibilities: High language standards mean that more hard work is required in order to achieve those standards which can be problematic in the limited time frame of a degree like MEDI [Master of Education (International)]. Identification of international students’ possible difficulties at an early stage and the timely provision of support services to help students overcome those difficulties in a manner that is consistent with and relevant to their prior experience is extremely important and only academic staff are in the position to make this possible. (Haroon, 2014, p. 34)

For Hira, cultural adaptation was a two-way street, "therefore, it’s more about the level of willingness and openness to accept change by both staff and their international students that will contribute towards a successful academic experience" (Haroon, 2014, p. 46). Her critique of power differentials remained sustained and, although she constrains her discussion to academia, broader cultural impositions cannot be read out: Moreover, the teaching and learning methodologies of the Australian academic culture can be very challenging for some of the international students and they will take time to gel … As the academic staff is in

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Now, in its second year, our master’s by coursework degree already offers this type of support. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Hira’s final recommendations concurred with a much larger but parallel study. The International Student Survey 2014 Overview Report (Australian Government DET, 2014), from reported areas of dissatisfaction, recommended the development of more programs designed to bring domestic and international students together, creating opportunities for meeting staff and holding formal international orientation events where Australian students could also play a mentoring role in helping to understand the context of Australian education. Hira went further and suggested adding “[s]eminars for the teaching staff to educate them about the diversity and its related issues along with the strategies to teach a diverse cohort of students” (Haroon, 2014, p. 59).

Ashwani’s thesis Ashwani’s study (Rehal, 2014, p. 28) also sought to understand international student experience: Although international students were successful in their home countries, in the host country, many face new and stressful academic pressures relating to language, different academic conventions and approaches to teaching and learning (Misra et al., 2003; Carroll & Ryan, 2005). Other factors that closely relate to and overlap with culture are different expectations of the students, shaped by their previous educational experiences, about participation and performance (Carroll & Ryan, 2005; Zhang, 2002). They often bring with them high expectations of themselves regarding their academic achievement, as well as of their family and friends. They are often under considerable external and internal pressure to succeed (Su, 2006; Carroll & Ryan, 2005; Khoo, Abu-Rasain & Hornby, 1994; Mori, 2000). However, international students must deal with all those things, from facing a new educational system to a new social environment. Often, one problem can aggravate other issues and the overall experience can be overwhelming for the international students leading to stress (Misra et al., 2003; Carroll & Ryan, 2005). On the whole, the stress of international students is not only limited to cross-cultural adjustments but also extended to the academic life in the new country.

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Discrimination was also named as another potential acculturative stressor for international students (Poyrazli & Grahame, 2007; Mori, 2000). Ashwani (Rehal, 2014) wrote that one of the participants was unable to find a job for a year because of her attire. She explained how it affected her psychologically, which ultimately affected her academic performance: I cannot blend in really well into my surroundings… and also I couldn’t get a job for almost one year just because of my attire and, definitely, when you are an international student and you do not have a job, it is really very tough and that has affected my academic performance as well, adding tension and worry about my expenses ... so that affected my academic performance. (Rehal, 2014, p. 61)

Another study participant was also reading this narrative: Being from a Muslim community, it is hard to get a job. She also explained the reason why it was easy for her to get the job, even though she is a Muslim. She did not dress like a typical Muslim woman … people and, especially men who look like a “maullvi”, i.e. very religious and with a large beard, … they don’t get jobs easily … Maybe people are scared that they are terrorists … [S]o I think, it really affects one when you are trying to find a job in Australia … although I had no difficulties, nor did I face any stress on the employment side of things, ... people who are more religious or follow their religion … sometimes they have to face difficulties. (Rehal, 2014, p. 64)

There was a relationship between these stressors and their possible outcomes of stress and anxiety disorders (Misra, Crist & Burant, 2003), relating to previous studies regarding the mental health concerns of international students, including alienation and homesickness (Mori, 2000; Edwards & Ran, 2006). Ashwani conceded that the dispositions of the students would naturally affect their adjustment, but she pointedly wrote, Loneliness can also be understood if we take cultural variations into consideration: “cultural loneliness” caused by the “absence of the preferred cultural and/or linguistic environment”, not only interacts with but also reinforces personal and social loneliness (Sawir et al., 2008). However, international students, particularly Asian students, are not accustomed to seeking professional help or to sharing their feelings (Constantine et al., 2005). (Rehal, 2014, p. 63)

Ashwani (Rehal, 2014) was speaking directly to her lecturers, with the gravitas of cited argument.

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Difficult Conversations It was a turbulent flight back home across the Throughflow. I had travelled as the guest of a minority religion teachers’ college and had been hosted attentively and generously. I had been offered the best accommodation, food, resources and travel available and, most helpfully, had been appointed a guide with whom I could navigate the protocols: wear batik today; eat it this way; is Pak or Doctor the preferred honorific? I had a wad of research interviews and a consultancy report to write that troubled what my reciprocal obligations might be as a guest. I could make some professional recommendations to the Board; after all, that was my brief. Their college choice to produce The little mermaid had challenged my feminist sensibilities that this was a paean to female beauty and doing what it takes to “get the man”. Rather, the staging seemed to encapsulate the aspirations of the college. Replete with gamelan orchestra, traditional costumes, and acting that echoed the comedy and stylised movement of Wayang puppetry, the pre-service teachers embraced their culture and traditions, extended their spoken English, appropriated globalised media and played with issues of identity and self-determination. The latter was reinforced in my interview data: why do you want to be a minority religion teacher? Many of the students had told me about their persecution in home villages, ostracism at school and of their anticipated workplace discrimination. My country has a somewhat fractious relationship with our northern neighbour; my university champions its research initiatives there and courts their citizens, and some I teach — a troubling story for hosts and guests. I sought some perspectives from the Ph.D. students from the region, near completion, and championed the principles of equity and inclusion that the academy promotes. We met in the breezeway and I risked a tricky conversation. What? Shock. Really. From their perspective within the dominant religion and prominent positions in the education system and other societal privileges, these minority/other experiences were both new and uncomfortable. There is some peril attached to talking about religion. Discussions can be met with discomfort from interlocutors whose private views can range from irrelevancy to assumptions of a more seditious agenda. I see “the comfortless condition of looking into the face of racism and [see] a trace of [ourselves] reflected in its eye” (Back, 2002, p. 59).

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I had known Ashwani’s (Rehal, 2014) participant for three years and her stress is now my distress. She has a sharp intellect, a former physics teacher, and each day has worn to university a long gown and veil made from crisp, exquisite fine cotton. When did she discover that she was being pre-judged? At her first interview? On practicum? Or later? Could we, as academics and her teachers/mentors, have prepared her and ameliorated these experiences? Did we foresee a likelihood? I am ashamed to concede that I am not surprised.

Conclusion There is no room for cultural competence that can mask complacency in the internationalised space where waters are continually mixing and, likewise, cultures are being formed in new ways. Tolerance becomes a blunt instrument and harbinger of false hopes. It is critical that academics working in the internationalised education space dedicate time to develop collective cultural humility. This will sometimes entail risky conversations between academic staff, between students, and between staff and students. Hira’s (Haroon, 2014) recommendation remains true to a practice of cultural humility by holding seminars for the teaching staff to educate them about the diversity and its related issues along with strategies to teach a diverse cohort of students. The strategy sounds like being a sensitive host and maintaining mindfulness of respect for each other with generosity. It is also another way to enhance the cultural capital within an institution and bring further careful attention to both ways of learning.

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Khoo, P. L. S., Abu-rasain, M. H. & Hornby, G. (1994). Counselling foreign students: A review of strategies. Counselling Psychology Quarterly, 7(2), 117-131. Knight, J. (1999). A time of turbulence and transformation for internationalization (Research Monograph, No. 14). Ottawa: Canadian Bureau for International Education. Knight, J., & de Wit, H. (Eds.). (1997). Internationalization of higher education in Asia Pacific countries. Amsterdam: European Association for International Education. Misra, R., Crist, M. & Burant, C. (2003). Relationships among life stress, social support, academic stressors, and reactions to stressors of international students in the united states. International Journal of Stress Management, 10(2), 137-157. Mori, S. C. (2000). Addressing the mental health concerns of international students. Journal of Counseling & Development, 78(2), 137-144. Poyrazli, S. & Grahame, K. M. (2007). Barriers to adjustment: Needs of international students within a semi-urban campus community. Journal of Instructional Psychology, 34(1), 28-45. Rehal, A. (2014). Differing perspectives of cultural stress: International non-native speakers of English and staff and student experiences of postgraduate study. Research Portfolio. Darwin: International Graduate Centre of Education, Charles Darwin University. Reynoso-Vallejo, H. (2009). Support group for Latino caregivers of dementia elders: Cultural humility and cultural competence. Ageing International, 34(1-2), 67-78. Sawir, E., Marginson, S., Deumert, A., Nyland, C. & Ramia, G. (2008). Loneliness and international students: An Australian study. Journal of Studies in International Education, 12(2), 148-180. Sermeno, S. E. (2011). Building a case for cultural sensitivity through personal storytelling and interpersonal dialogue in international education. International Schools Journal, 30(2), 10-17. Su, S. (2006). Give me wings to fly – What can be done better to smooth Chinese students’ academic adaptation experience at one Australian university? In F. Fallon & S. Chang (Eds.), Proceedings from the 17th International Education Conference Sydney (Vol. 6). Retrieved September 17, 2015 from: http://www.proceedings.com.au/isana/docs/2006/Paper_su.pdf. Tervalon, M. & Murray-Garcia, J. (1998). Cultural humility versus cultural competence: A critical distinction in defining physician training outcomes in multicultural education. Journal of Health Care for the Poor and Underserved, 9(2), 117-125.

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Vandermensbrugghe, J. (2004). The unbearable vagueness of critical thinking in the context of the Anglo-Saxonisation of education. International Education Journal, 5(3), 417-422. Wear, D. (2008). On outcomes and humility. Academic Medicine, 83(7), 625-626. Zhang, C. M. (2002). Valuing cultural diversity: The academic adjustment experiences of undergraduate Chinese international Business students at Victoria University. PhD Thesis, Victoria University. Retrieved September 17, 2015 from: http://vuir.vu.edu.au/229/1/02whole.pdf.

THEME 2 – IDENTITY LANGUAGE AND CULTURE

EVIDENCE AND CULTURE IN THE GLOBAL LITERACY EDUCATION COMPETITION – AND OTHER POSSIBILITIES PETER FREEBODY THE UNIVERSITY OF SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA

Abstract Decades after Harvey Graff critiqued the magical powers attributed to literacy, we find ever-increasing international attention on the rankings of nation-states on literacy tests administered to school children and adults. Motivating this attention are increasingly extravagant claims about the significance of these rankings and their unassailable status as “scientific”. The paper summarizes and questions some aspects of these international competitions, the claims made about their importance, and the use made of them in domestic political and media agendas. It sketches a different, potentially more productive view, of literacy and globalisation that emphasizes knowledge creation, knowledge sharing, and the recruitment of online “big data” as a site for globalized collaboration.

Two Takes on Global Challenges to Learning There are at least two takes on the head title of this volume: “challenges in global learning”. The first – which we can term “learning as multinational” – leads us to ask “what are the current challenges faced on an international scale by learners, teachers, and educational policy-makers?” The second – “learning as global” – draws our attention to what might be meant by learning more specifically about, with, and for “the globe”. Teachers are asked to orient to both interpretations, but the first, learning as multi-national, exercises a more insistent pressure on their daily practice, even though learning as global is more urgent.

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This chapter addresses some of the challenges in global learning presented by both of these interpretations, using literacy as a focal point. The bulk of the discussion deals with the challenges presented to educators by the increasing use of different kinds of evidence to justify and drive policy relating to pedagogy, curriculum, and assessment. The chapter concludes with an outline of the challenges presented by the second interpretation – learning as global – to literacy educators, and considers issues that would be involved in orienting to curricular and policy work that is about the globe, for the globe, and with the globe. Educators know that they are expected to formulate and implement what are termed best practices, and that these are currently discovered through increasingly prevalent and prominent national and international comparisons of test scores among school-aged and adult learners. In contrast, “about, with, and for the globe” are currently not three starting points for how the profession or the community thinks about learning, or for the forms of pedagogy, curriculum and assessment, or institutional organization and funding that we find characterizing most educational provision. Learning about, with, and for the globe are not priorities whose outcomes are the focus of standardized testing; shortfalls in these areas do not galvanize the media or the policy bureaus, so current and following generations will continue to confront, relatively unarmed, global challenges that have only global solutions. While most curriculum statements and the public self-portraits of systems and institutions make mention of thinking and acting globally, the challenge comes when we search for the practical changes they are effecting to bring about a more deeply-rooted educational orientation to “the global”.

Why Literacy? Efforts in literacy education have been aimed at providing learners with two important sets of resources and dispositions: for participating in increasingly literacy-dependent and inter-connected labor markets, and for moving fluently and effectively across culturally and linguistically diverse settings. So literacy education seems to be a good site for illustrating challenges in global learning. It has become a ubiquitous feature of most everyday settings in many countries, and important for substantial participation in everyday activities. While psychologists have studied reading and, less often, writing for about a hundred years, over the last 40 years or so other social scientists –

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anthropologists, applied linguists, sociologists, political scientists, policy analysts, comparativists, historians, and others – began to document the importance of local, cultural variations in how literacy is practiced, learned, and taught in various institutional and informal settings (Street, 1984). They pointed to the varying political and ideological uses to which literacy can be put (Scribner & Cole, 1981; Fraatz, 1987; Lankshear & Lawler, 1987; Luke, 1988; Moje & Luke, 2009; Perry, 2012). This cross-disciplinary attention has shown that literacy is a technology that not only lives in societies but potentially reshapes them, accelerating and intensifying some processes, inhibiting others (McKitterick, 1990). The material forms and social uses of literacy have continued to change, sometimes rapidly and radically, sometimes less so (Clanchy, 2013). The current period seems to be one such deep-and-fast period of transformation in literacy’s forms and uses, and in the scale of its effects. In most contemporary forms of education, literacy is both the major medium of learning and the means by which learners display their achievements. Finally, like any powerful technology, literacy has been shown to intensify and accelerate both beneficial and damaging outcomes, the latter including the demise of minority and non-elite languages and dialects, the perpetuation of cultural imperialism, and the oppression of minority groups (e.g., Crystal, 2002; Graff, 2001 & 2010; Nettle & Romaine, 2002; Ostler & Rudes, 2000).

Hot and Cool Science In the conduct of research, key concepts are reshaped, repurposed, and realigned over the course of the research activity around them. In the research on literacy education over the last 40 years or so, for instance, we see cycles of tight and loose conceptualizations of what it is and how it functions. Historian and statistician Alain Desrosières (1998) has described key processes in the conduct and development of inquiry in the social sciences. On the one hand, some researchers at some stages of inquiry take a social phenomenon, or feature of it (say, level of literacy) as existing independently of how, when, and where it is named, observed, and measured. In this view, the only challenges are the reliability, validity, and utility of how this compact concept can be represented statistically. In another view, the viability of any social phenomenon, its very existence, is taken to rely on the ways people have conventionally chosen to name, observe, and measure it. It can, therefore, always be renegotiated by pointing to the ways in which it is separated out of the flow of daily

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experience, talked about, represented, and acted on in many different cultural, social and institutional settings. In this view we have made the phenomenon, so we can re-make it or un-make it. When researchers or educators, for our purposes, encounter a standardized measure of “level of literacy”, they are dealing with something that allows them to insert a compact, concise concept – cool literacy – into discussions and debates for the practical purposes at hand, about projects in which literacy plays a part. They can do this productively even if they know that the ideas and methods that have produced this compact concept are in fact “the result of a historical gestation punctuated by hesitations, retranslations, and conflicting interpretations” (Desrosières, 1998, p 2). Desrosières went on to document how it is that the sciences have moved back and forth over the centuries between literal and hypothetical interpretations of the world that are apparent to us, and how advances in statistical methods have influenced those oscillations. He used the metaphor of hot and cool science, In science in the making (or “hot” science), truth is still a wager, a subject of debate; only gradually, when science cools down again, are certain results encapsulated, becoming “recognized facts,” while other disappear altogether. (Desrosières, 1998, p. 5)

He proceeds to make two points about hot and cool science. The first is that statistical advances in the mid- to late 19th century helped produce a cool-science set of apparently durable solid facts of social life (e.g., the average wage-earner, the unemployment rate, indices of income equity, international comparisons of average literacy levels). But they did more than that. With the development of statistics, authorities were provided with the means for finding out about the living conditions and the views of people across the all of the varied sites for which they were responsible, and thus with the means of making policies with some hope of practical efficacy and enough public legitimacy to be defensible. Statistical products created apparently solid objects that gave administrators and people generally a common, and common-sensical, language to talk about them. Because these statistical products appear to overcome the differences that make each site unique by generalizing across them in principled ways, they help build a coherent and manageable body of people – hence the origins of the word “statistics” – “the study of the state”. So statistics both describe and build the social fact of “a state” at the same time as they

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assemble the apparently, for-many-practical-purposes, durable facts that comprise it. Desrosières’s (1998) key point is that the movement between hot and cool science, rather than a nuisance, is the driving dynamic of science. In our case some views of literacy assume its variability across a multiplicity of local settings, people, texts, communities, economies, technologies, languages, and the rest; some assume literacy’s reliable measurement for purposes of cross-site comparisons and legitimate policy interventions. The unresolvable tension is this: at times we need to work with an undebated, durable, solid, portable concept of, say, the topic of literacy levels, so that we can act in practical and concerted ways, but also we must always debate, unpack, and remodel this concept so that we can get better at what we do with it. After 40 years or so of multidisciplinary incursions into the field of literacy studies, the last decade has witnessed the comeback of the standardized, measurable, portable, compact, psychologized, attribute – cool literacy. This seems to have come from the need for a yardstick for public comparisons of educational jurisdictions, states and nations – a scale that affords regional and national comparisons, in turn a basis for improving pedagogy and policy through the analysis of the practices of high-scoring nations and the potential domestic political value of competitive performance. Most prominent in the global literacy scene are the international assessments of literacy and other aspects of learning under the heading of the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA) and its Programme for the International Assessment of Adult Competencies (PIAAC). We here explore some aspects of these programs, neither to accept nor to dismiss the projects or their findings, but to examine what lessons educators are warranted in learning. PISA and PIAAC provide some statistical features of each participating entity, and the entities include OECD member countries, “partner” countries, and more recently, “economies” (e.g., Hong Kong, China). Wide-ranging analyses of the differing levels of performance and some characteristics that may be related are also provided. The key goal for PISA is stated like this,

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the greatest value of PISA lies in inspiring national efforts to help students to learn better, teachers to teach better, and school systems to become more effective. (Gurria, 2010, p. 4)

And for PIACC, It [the Survey of Adult Skills] will offer an annual overview of how skills are being developed, activated and used across OECD and partner countries, and highlight the kinds of education, employment, tax and other social policies that encourage and allow people to make the most of their potential. (Gurria, 2013, p. 3)

So, importantly, while the data are internationally sourced, the goal seems not primarily for global applications or for a global reassessment of the nature, scale, or significance of literacy education, but rather for systems and governments to know about and improve the performance of their various national constituents. The bases of the conclusions (“the kinds of …”) are aggregations, distillations from the comparisons across countries: countries will be guided in how to improve by the comparative analysis of their own and other countries’ data.

PISA: Assessing Common-Sense Hypotheses In PISA, students in participating schools are scored and the countries ranked on a variety of measures, including their overall “reading” performance. To organize the discussion below, we examine some of the data relating to literacy scores across the OECD countries. One way of approaching data such as these is to use them to explore our own theorizations of literacy learning and teaching in schools, by asking if similar rankings mean that the teachers and schools are doing an equally good job, and if not, why not? And do rankings that differ significantly mean that the teachers and schools in the higher ranked countries are doing better than those in the lower ranked countries, and if not, why not? When we put these naïve but parsimonious hypotheses to the test – allocating the credit or criticism to the teachers, their preparation, or their institutional or systemic support – we continually call up questions that can be summarized like this: what literacy-relevant factors might surround, mediate, or influence teachers’ work for better or worse? And might these factors also be caused by literacy levels among learners? Or be part of a larger constellation of mutually-informing factors?

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We are theorizing in the presence of data. Notice that these questions do not necessitate the “re-heating” of the concept of literacy itself; rather, in the first instance at least, we can get by just placing the cool, compact concept of literacy level within an array of circumstances that might help us make hypotheses about what we see in the statistical data. It may, most obviously, lead us to call up variables other than or as well as the quality of the teaching and the preparation of teachers for the teaching of literacy.

Exhibit 1: Money, Educated Adults, Migration, Poverty We turn now to Exhibit 1, a summary of some data collected by OECD in their international literacy assessments of 15-year-old school students. Table 1 provides a look at some obvious hypotheses regarding candidate factors that might influence the literacy scores of these students across the OECD countries in the 2009 PISA round (OECD, 2010). (2009 is used here because in later years updated values for Columns 4-7 were not provided.) These candidate factors are, on the face of it, eminently reasonable: 1. the amount of much money spent on schooling in each country (cumulative expenditure, in U.S. dollars, adjusted to equalize purchasing power across countries); 2. the percentage of adults in each country that have tertiary education and training; 3. the percentage of these students who come from immigrant backgrounds; and 4. the percentage of these students designated as economically, socially, and/or culturally disadvantaged. Note three features of the Table: 1) OECD countries only are included; 2) countries or groups of countries surrounded by spaces are statistically equivalent (e.g., each of the countries scoring 503-500, Norway to USA, are not statistically different from one another); 3) the ranking for these variables is provided in the Table and actual values in parentheses at decile rankings, that is, for ranks 1, 10, 20, 30, and last (34). The discussion following is organized in terms of lessons that we may draw from these data as we attempt to develop warrantable but informative interpretations.

2

Mean Score

539

536

524

521 520 515

508 506

503 501 501 500 500 500

497

1

Rank

1

2

3

4 5 6

7 8

9 10 11 12 13 14

15

Sweden

Norway Estonia Switzerland Poland Iceland USA

Netherlands Belgium

New Zealand Japan Australia

Canada

Finland

South Korea

Country

3

9

2 (53) 29 5 22 12 3

6 11

23 16 7

10 (36)

18

4 Cum. expend. per student 6-15 years - rank ($U.S.,000 using PPP) 24

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8 15 12 28 13 5

19 14

7 2 9

1 (54)

4

6

5 % adult population tertiary educated rank (%)

13

21 19 4 29 25 6

12 10 (15)

2 33 7

3

24

34 (0)

6 % 15yr-olds immigr bkgrd - rank (%)

29

34 (2) 26 14 7 32 15

27 20 (9)

21 24 33

31

30 (4)

7 % PISA students low SES index - rank (%) 11

77

497 496 496 495 494 494 489

486 483 483 481

478 477 474 472 470

464

449

425

16 17 18 19 20 21 22

23 24 25 26

27 28 29 30 31

32

33

34

Mexico

Chile

Turkey

Czech Rep. Slovak Rep. Israel Luxembourg Austria

Italy Slovenia Greece Spain

Germany Ireland France Denmark UK Hungary Portugal

32

33

34 (13)

27 30 (20) 26 1 (88) 8

20 (31) 25 21 19

15 4 17 13 14 31 28

29

24

34 (11)

32 33 3 21 26

30 (15) 25 23 18

22 11 20 (31) 10 (37) 16 27 31

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Table 1: OECD countries on PISA 15 years reading 2009 and ranks on social indices

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28

32

31

26 30 (.5) 5 1 (40) 9

22 20 (8) 16 15

8 18 11 17 14 27 23

1 (58)

3

2

19 17 13 10 (16) 22

6 18 9 5

23 16 12 25 28 8 4

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Line spaces are inserted between groups of countries with statistically significant differences. Columns 1-3, 6, 7: OECD (2010). Column 4: Numbers following quartile rankings are in thousands of U.S. dollars, adjusted for parity of purchasing power (PPP model), and relating to average cumulative expenditure on schools for students aged 5-16 years. Column 5: Adults in 35 to 44-year-old range. Column 7: Based on a composite OECD index of economic, social, and cultural status. To frame the “lessons” that follow, OECD reported proportions of the variation common to PISA score and each demographic variable with the other demographic variables statistically. With regard to their relation to scores on the literacy assessments, the education and training level of the adult population matters a great deal in its own right, independently of other related demographic variables (with a unique variance of 45%), and the proportion of students living in poverty or cultural isolation also matters a great deal (with a unique variance of 46%). The cumulative expenditure on schooling provided by a country and the proportion of the countries’ students who are of immigrant status, in a statistical sense, do not matter nearly as much (with unique variances of 9% and 1% respectively). This does not necessarily mean that the latter two variables are insignificant with regard to literacy learning, but rather that their significance decreases when account is taken of the other variables. These findings may suggest potential interactions and complexities in their effects, but it may also mean that some of our common-sense hypotheses in this regard are, at best, inadequate, or simply wrong. What cautions may we want to exercise before we draw hard-and-fast conclusions that apply to practice and policy? Some are suggested here in terms of “lessons”.

Lesson 1: Just Cool literacy? As we turn to see what might be made of our common-sense hypotheses about expenditure on schooling, education levels of adults, and immigrant and disadvantaged 15-year-olds, we might note first that these measures themselves are “cool concepts”, compact and apparently durable, but

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eminent contenders for “warming up”, unpacking, debating and renegotiating. Does the expenditure measure include special provisions or only mainstream block government grants? Does it include additional funding sourced by non-government funded systems, or other donors? Do these arrangements operate comparably across these countries? Does the adult education measure and equate trade training programs with university degrees, or weight them differentially, and, if the latter, can the weightings be made comparable across these countries? Does the immigration measure differentiate between those who do and do not come from medium-of-testing language backgrounds and those with and without any prior exposure to the testing language? And so on. These are crucial to the validity of any conclusion we may come to, but exploring them can stall the effort to evaluate our hypotheses about literacy education, so we proceed knowing the consequences of using cool, compact concepts for the purposes at hand. In fact, OECD and the other assessment organizations involved in the production of these data provide background information on precisely how these measurement decisions were made and the rationales behind them, but the point is simply that decisions indeed needed to be made, and that these may have covered over fragilities surrounding the comparability, validity, or precision of the comparisons in the interests of proceeding with them. So taking this collection of cool measures at face value, what other lessons can be learned? What might an educator or policy maker bring to bear to sharpen their interpretations on the way to more useful applications?

Lesson 2: Ranking versus Difference There is an immediate observation that may be made about the first three columns. As the scores get closer to the average (494), the countries tend to fall into larger groupings that are statistically indistinguishable. This is observed in most rounds of PISA and in many other ranking exercises that use its form of scoring. There is, conversely, a large gap between the highest and lowest scoring three countries and the rest. So while rankings may slip or climb from year to year, a key point resides in the actual distinctiveness of a given country’s score across the full range of participating countries. In many cases, for any significant relative improvement to be taken as indicating systemic change, a big change in ranking would be needed.

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Lesson 3: Range Restriction Comparing relationships among variables in the OECD school systems on literacy is clearly a very different matter from making comparisons across many hundreds of nations displaying dramatic differences in demographic, economic, and educational resources. The point is neither to establish or query these correlations in particular, but rather to examine the ways in which, in this top-20-ranked group at least, they may or may not hold in ways that are useful to our theorization of effective literacy education in school. The OECD countries on literacy tests constitute a seriously restricted sample, such that relationships among these variables may be truncated compared to what would be found if all the nations of the world, or even those in the OECD, were included. Would it be like finding no significant relationship between exercise levels and swimming ability among the fastest 50 swimmers in the world?

Lesson 4: Correlation and Cause Listing features of countries alongside their rankings on a literacy test indicates that we expect to be able to build some meaningful relationship between them –what else could be the force of having the data lined up for us in this way? When a meaningful relationship seems warranted, we may also think, common-sensically, that we are being invited to think of these other features (e.g., the amount of money a country spends per schoolstudent) as potential causes of learners’ literacy capabilities. At best, however, it is clear that these kinds of data can express some level of correlation rather than clinch a causal relationship. If 15 year-olds’ literacy does correlate with adults’ levels of education, then there are four possibilities with regard to causation: 1. higher adult education levels are a cause of higher 15-year old literacy, 2. higher 15-year old literacy is a cause of higher adult education levels, 3. these are not related causally, but are both caused by a third factor that has not been assessed, 4. 15-year old literacy and higher adult education levels are both causes and effects of one another over time and are also embedded in a constellation of other mutually-informing factors.

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For an educator keen to improve pedagogy, curriculum, and assessment, the slippery path between correlation and cause is a dangerous track to traverse. OECD Director Gurria’s introduction to the adult skills audit provides an example: The median hourly wage of workers who can make complex inferences and evaluate subtle truth claims or arguments in written texts is more than 60% higher than for workers who can, at best, read relatively short texts to locate a single piece of information. Those with low literacy skills are also more than twice as likely to be unemployed. (Gurria, 2013, p. 3)

We are clearly invited to infer that the cause of having 60% more pay is a superior level of reading ability – or, perhaps, a qualitatively different set of reading abilities, which, in Gurria’s second sentence, are quantified into a cool concept as “low literacy skills”. This is a plausible inference, particularly to educators, who are committed to the public efficacy of their work. But does it apply across all sectors of the labor market, does it persist across time or is there no inter-generational bias in access to quality education? Here we reheat “workers”. But we can also reverse the logic: do lower paid workers confront the need to “make complex inferences and evaluate subtle truth claims or arguments in written texts” as regularly as higher paid workers? Does the pay indirectly cause the differing kinds of literacy ability? Or are these two factors differently related (maybe not at all directly) in settings with different cultural, economic, and social histories, including schooling and training systems that do not stimulate high levels of inter-generational class mobility? Clearly these two variables are correlated, and our inquiry into how that correlation may be interpreted draws us immediately into theoretical assumptions about the nature of literacy as it is practiced day to day across different national and social formations.

Lesson 5: Cultures, Histories, and Systems Some considerations about research design lead us to be cautious about the policy implications that flow from these findings, implications that might be unpalatable for some. There may well be, for any given country, interacting factors that, over time, have blurred the outline of the relationships among these variables, such that taking them in a pair with literacy, one pair at a time, cannot reveal how they indeed have come to influence one another. A serious consideration relates to the validity of such comparative projects in the first place: are the assessments valid in the same ways across the countries (e.g., similar sampling, test

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development, the languages of the items, the distribution of the test language across the populations of the various countries, and so on)? For direct comparability, we need to assume that the language chosen by country for the PISA test is comparably accessible to students within all the countries. Countries are multilingual in different ways and to different extents, and minority language groups have different degrees of access to schooling, and to political, economic, and cultural authority and privilege in different countries. Further, is the statement that the effort is worth it because of the important benefits that literacy “predicts” true in the same ways across the countries? In some countries widespread literacy in the mainstream language is emphasized for the purposes of nation-building and cultural cohesion; in other countries, its relationship to economic competitiveness and skills acquisition is emphasized, particularly in times of rapid skills-inflation in local labor markets. Finally, do analyses that isolate some variables (e.g., literacy and employment status, as observed in PIAAC 2013) (OECD, 2013) and that adjust for gender, age, marital status and foreign-born status, thereby bias the patterns observed simply by occluding the associations between these variables and access to schooling, associations that may be powerful in some countries and not in others? All of the concerns outlined here receive clear and serious attention in most of the reports produced by the OECD on the results of their literacy testing and its other educational surveys. But it is not clear that the people affected most dramatically by the results of the surveys, educators and educational bureaucrats, have access to the research, design, and statistical expertise to contextualize and critique either the decisions made and explicated by the researchers, or the interpretations of the rankings generally drawn in the media and in political settings. This leaves many professionals choosing either to accept or to dismiss international or national testing, rather than to draw out some opportunities to sharpen, confirm, or revise their own beliefs and practices or those they encounter in their schools or systems. These opportunities need not consist only of accepting conclusions about “what works” or “what doesn’t” from the findings of the surveys; they might also include applying sharper ideas about how relationships among cultural, economic and linguistic factors develop differently over time in different countries, and how a particular country of interest might be placed in such a developmental process. Most profoundly, this work enshrines the idea that the nation-state is an appropriate unit of comparison. The international comparisons encourage

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cross-nation competition, orienting educators to some feature of “winning” apparent countries that can be applied internally without any consideration of 1) the repeated assertions of researchers that within-country variations far exceed between-country differences, or more significantly for educators with an interest in “the challenges of global learning,” 2) the varying cultural, linguistic, and economic histories and trajectories of “winning” and “not-so-winning” countries (e.g., the criteria that govern their immigration intake). Ultimately, along with all of the other cool, compact concepts that have been discussed in the findings above, it is the nation-state that is the ultimate cool, compact concept, partly because the design, measurement and analytic machinery that has produced it as a “subject” of the study is never outlined and defended.

So What Is “Global” About Literacy? For a volume on global learning, it is interesting that the current fascination for global assessments of literacy among children and adults is in fact largely a fascination with national comparisons. It does not currently lead to opportunities for global contrasts between intra-nation groupings. But PIAAC 2013 (OECD, 2013) not only maps skills across different countries in an adult population but also relates the differences in these skill levels across a variety of what it terms “social measures”. For example, PIAAC found significant differences in performance on the literacy assessments on a variety of demographic measures: x age: the youngest cohort (16–24 years) scored significantly higher than the oldest cohort (55–65 years) x immigrant status: native-born participants scored significantly higher than foreign-born participants x education levels: participants with tertiary or further qualifications scored significantly higher than participants who had not completed upper secondary schooling x socio-economic status: participants with one parent who had a tertiary qualification scored significantly higher than those for whom neither parent completed upper secondary school x job type: participants categorized as skilled workers scored significantly higher than participants categorized as unskilled workers It is important to emphasize the global nature of these results: out of the 110 statistical tests made of the relationship between literacy assessments

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and these various demographics, 107 were statistically reliable (in the case of the United Kingdom for age and Slovakia and the Czech Republic for immigrant status, literacy scores were not significantly correlated). Similarly, prevalent were findings related to the relationship between literacy performance on these tests and gender. In terms of the overall average performance, the men scored significantly higher than women, when these contrasts were statistically controlled for age, education level, immigrant status, first language, social economic status, and job type. More specifically, in every country except Slovakia, men scored significantly higher than women on the literacy measures. The issue of gender and literacy is reflected in other assessments of how gender affects people’s lives across the world. The UNESCO Institute for Statistics reported in 2014 that, while global literacy rates are rising in general, 780 million adults cannot read or write, and about two-thirds of them are women (UNESCO, 2014). This strong trend contrasts sharply with the results from OECD testing 15year-olds in school: x PISA 2012: “While girls outperform boys in reading in every participating country and economy, the gap is much wider in some countries than in others” (OECD, 2014, p. 199) x “In the PISA 2009 reading assessment, girls outperform boys in every participating country by an average, among OECD countries, of 39 PISA score points – equivalent to more than half a proficiency level or one year of schooling.” (OECD, 2010, p. 14) x “Females showed significantly higher average reading performance than males in every country in PISA 2003” (OECD, 2003, p. 35) So for the trend for adult males to have access to more, or more effective, literacy education, one possible interpretation of the PIAAC findings on gender may be changing. This trend is not evident in the youngest adult age group (16 – 24 years) in the OECD group. In the battery of analyses reported in PIAAC, “the global” makes a number of other more focused but telling appearances. Three analyses are presented here to briefly illustrate the potential for examining literacy as part of managing the self, one’s involvement in the community, and in the society at large. One aspect of the PIAAC survey enquired about participants’ levels of trust in the people around them, physical health, and sense of political efficacy. For purposes of analysis, comparisons were

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made between participants scoring in the lowest 20% of the range on the literacy assessments and those in the top two levels that have the highest scoring 40%. As with other analyses, the relationship was moderated by statistically controlling for other demographic variables known to be related to literacy. It turns out that, on average across all at the OECD countries, participants scoring in the lowest 20% on literacy scores were more than twice as likely to indicate that they did not trust the people, communities, and societies around them. This contrast was statistically significant in all but seven of the OECD countries, and in a number of countries the effect was substantially more pronounced than the average: Australia, 2.8 times less trusting; Denmark and Norway, 2.6 times; and Germany and UK, 2.4 times. On the matter of participants’ indications of their physical health, the relationship with literacy is equally dramatic. The lowest 20% on the literacy assessments were more than twice as likely to describe their health as fair or poor rather than good or excellent than the highest scoring 40%. Substantial differences above this mean were shown for Germany, 4.7 times; U.S., 4.2 times; and Austria 3.5 times. Similar findings obtained to questions concerning participants’ sense of political efficacy in the management of their local and national affairs. On average, OECD countries indicated that participants at the lowest 20% of literacy performance were 2.5 times more likely to say that they had “no say on what governments do”. Countries showing a more substantial effect than the average included Germany, 4.5 times; Estonia, 2.9 times; UK, 2.8 times; and U.S. and Italy, 2.6 times. It is not that these countries have citizens who are generally more or less trusting or healthy, or felt more or less politically efficacious. It is rather that there is a striking and statistically reliable association between these statements of wellbeing and scores on the literacy assessments. Regardless of which of the interpretations we might have of a correlation between A and B (A causes B; B causes A; A and B are caused by some other factor), these relationships are widespread, and for educators they call up a trajectory for literacy’s part in participation in public life that involves more than job-readiness. In that respect we may say that such analyses are doing their job: we see a tag on a cool variable and so we need to reheat it in particular ways, as guided by the associations around it. There is something going on with regard to trust and literacy test results, for

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instance, and the “reheating” inquiry can begin there, with the question of whether or not our current understandings about literacy are such that this relationship can be accommodated.

Global Challenges in Literacy Learning: Three Different Takes Learning about the globe Nations are one category that we can use to explore literacy around the world, but there are equally, if not more empirically, supportable units of analysis we could deploy. For example, an interest in literacy as an object of global inquiry might lead researchers and policymakers alike to wonder about the global comparison between indigenous versus non-indigenous students, not in only the amount of literacy they show on a standardized test but also the kinds of literacy practices, uses, and attitudes that they display. This can be done re-using many of the concepts and datacollection strategies used in the cool OECD programs: assessments, surveys, interviews, and so on. The reheating here comprises a renegotiation of the concept of “nation” as a meaningful unit of analysis on the matter of literacy capabilities and literacy education activities. For example, Aboriginal Australians, New Zealand MƗoris, Native Canadians, and Scandinavian Samis are among those who regularly present themselves not only as nations, but as nations whose long traditions of communication through inscription have helped preserve their cultural identities. They do not, however, appear as data sites for international comparison. If we wish our inquiry into improving literacy education to be not only informative but global in its orientation, then there would be unique value in documenting the literacy development, capabilities, and practices of these groupings, and making comparisons in terms of their histories, languages, and material, economic, and political conditions as evident “in the social practices and conceptions of reading and writing” (Street, 1984, p. 1). This would confront us with the challenge of translating qualitative differences in practices and conceptions of literacy into more portable forms that could be used to make some meaningful comparisons across these national groupings. Similarly, students who do versus those who do not speak the language of instruction at home, students in the top versus the bottom quintile on social economic measures, students in non-government subsidized institutions versus those in government subsidized institutions versus non-fee-paying

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government schools, and so on would provide a look at what literacy education is about globally, and would reinforce the complex, variable and highly contextualized explanations and effects of literacy education that, along with the OECD researchers themselves, many historians have outlined (e.g., Graff, 2010; Johnson & Parker, 2009).

Learning for the globe Literacy is a means of inquiry that has local and global implications for individual students and the communities in which they live. A global interest in literacy education might also entail assessing different school systems’ inclinations and capacities to confront and study significant global challenges with students – immigration, climate change, equity, internet crime, drug and people trafficking, and so on. These are “global challenges” not just in terms of their ubiquity but also because they can be solved in sustainable ways only via global solutions. How people understand these challenges, particularly people living in countries where they can vote for political parties who make them part of their agenda, will influence how their countries address these local and global challenges. For instance, Leiser, Bourgeois-Gironde, and Beinta (2010) were interested in people’s understandings, and explanations for the Global Financial Crisis (GFC) of 2008-9, and the remedies they would propose. They surveyed over 1700 adults in France, the U.S., Russia, Germany, Israel, and Africa. These people ranked possible explanations and remedies and wrote briefly on how the GFC affected them, and what can and should be done now and later. A substantial majority of respondents saw the economy “as comprised of individuals” and the GFC as due to the “failings of moral or cognitive character” (p. 132), so the people who did this are bad or dumb or both, and the remedy is to move them on. A smaller minority saw the economy as people interacting as best they can within “a complex, objective and soulless mechanism” and the remedy for problems is change the system. The minority view is statistically associated with higher levels of affluence and education, specifically in economics/commerce. Literacy education changes through the course of the school years in most contemporary nations, from a generic introduction to the nature of the home-language’s script and general conventions toward the use of reading and writing for developing the more specialized, abstract, and technical knowledge embodied in the various curriculum areas and the problemsolving skills called for both across and within these areas (Christie &

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Derewianka, 2008; Freebody, Chan & Barton, 2013). It is clear from the study by Leiser and colleagues that even a glimpse of such specialized knowledge can provide understandings of the systems that organize physical, economic, and social domains, understandings that are increasingly relied on in democratic countries where mass media are significant in the formation of political and ideological acculturation.

Learning with the globe There is little doubt that, as the 21st century proceeds, becoming literate in a learning context will entail accessing large public open datasets on a variety of topics and synthesizing, reworking, refining, and adding data. The American Psychological Association (n.d.) data site, for instance, includes census data, child language data, consumer behavior research, health studies, and child abuse data in its list of publicly available data repositories. These datasets allow collaborative, cross-nation projectdriven activities on topics of global interest, significance, and perhaps urgency. This raises a third possibility for learning with the globe, large scale cyberactivism over a range of contentious issues by a rapid, selforganizing, “world-ready” citizenry that learns and works globally (Freebody, 2014), taking the new communication technologies for granted in much the same way as the current generation regards recent developments in mobile technologies.

Conclusions This chapter is a response to the contrast between, on the one hand, the conspicuous focus on evidence for teachers and, on the other, the comparative silence on what counts as evidence in differing forms of research that might speak to the variety of institutional, curricular, and community settings that educators encounter. This discussion has been partly motivated by concerns about research, methods, and methodology because these should be presenting challenges to the profession across the world. One flow-on from the increased use and visibility of international assessments of literacy is the production of reports, from educational authorities and private consultancies around the world, on standards for “quality teaching”. These reports generally draw, for direction and

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legitimacy, on evidence collected across many countries via testing programs. Some of the recommendations in these reports point to the need for teachers to use certain evidence-based strategies in their teaching and for school leaders and policy-makers to ensure that these strategies are implemented broadly. Less common are recommendations concerning the need for educators to have in their professional repertoire a grasp of what “evidence-based” means and of how different kinds of research might inform their teaching, teacher education, or policy development in different ways. These issues become visible when the results from a round of international standardized testing are released. Media outlets often contain reactions that range from simple statements that “the home team” has dropped, remained steady, or advanced in the rankings, all the way to earnest expressions of anxiety over falling standards and the grim descent into non-competitiveness that this fall foreshadows. Regardless of the warrant for these claims, one question that arises is: are teachers any better placed to interpret and comment on the findings than the community at large, or than the commentators and journalists doing the interpreting and reporting? In what particular, professionally-relevant ways might they be better placed? In light of current pressures on teachers and education systems at large to engage in practices supported by particular forms of research (Mayer et al., 2014), it seems important that pre- and in-service teachers receive opportunities, resources, encouragement, and incentives to develop more than a passing understanding of the strengths and weaknesses of different forms of evidence, and of the differing implications these forms of evidence may have for practice. Otherwise, they will continue to have little systematic bases for reacting reasonably to and adapting the evidence-based recommendations for practice and policy against which their systems, their schools, and they themselves are held accountable (Markauskaite, Freebody & Irwin, 2011). Tussles over what counts as evidence are perhaps more vexed, virulent, and abiding in education than in most other fields of social inquiry. Teachers, teacher educators, and policy-makers are faced with varying claims, each one seemingly more definitive than the last, about the scientific nature and status of certain forms of research, each often accompanied by equally definitive dismissals of rival paradigms and methods. It is this dismissiveness, particularly its basis in features to do with methodology and methods rather than with the quality, coherence, or rigor of a given research project, that seems more prevalent in education than elsewhere. It has the potential to cultivate a lack of workable

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consensus among teacher educators and educational policy-makers on what the evidence really means for their daily work. Methodological fundamentalism is potentially consequential for educational practice and policy, partly because each of its forms presents teachers, school leaders, policy branches and teacher educators with a view that only one form of research can meaningfully describe practice and policy development and thereby inform their improvement. Accepting that view inevitably rules out the claims of other rigorously conducted, high-quality research projects as legitimate resources in the overall educational effort purely on the basis of methods and methodology; it can further sediment disaffection and distrust among groups of teachers, school managers, policy makers, teachers, educators and researchers. This is one way in which a professional educational community – its learners and educators alike – can become less cohesive, less interactive, less collectively competent, more data-rich-knowledge-poor, and, in general, less up to the challenges of global learning. Biesta (2007) has summarized this issue in his critique of international and national efforts to direct educational practice by evidence that seems to show what works (and see Barrett, 2011; Knutsson & Lindberg, 2012), The role of the educational professional in this process is not to translate general rules into particular lines of action. It is rather to use research findings to make one’s problem solving more intelligent. This not only involves deliberation and judgment about the means and techniques of education; it involves at the very same time deliberation and judgment about the ends of education. … The extent to which a government not only allows the research field to raise this set of questions, but actively supports and encourages researchers to go beyond simplistic questions about “what works”, may well be an indication of the degree to which a society can be called democratic. (Biesta, 2007, pp. 20-22)

So the “challenges of global learning” have drawn us in two directions. The first is to the learning of teachers about the nature of evidence and what different kinds of evidence can or cannot say to them about the improvement of their practice, their engagement with their communities, and their active, informed input into the development of policy around assessment and curriculum. This is as much about the wellbeing of teachers and the need for them as a profession to have the collective means for becoming engaged in, rather than alienated from, the products of their work, as much as it is about more effective teaching and learning for students.

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The further challenge of global learning pertains more directly to curricular issues. Global learning can be thought of as what students who are participating actively as global citizens do, citizens who see that some challenges cannot be met other than globally. It may be that, thanks to a growing awareness of the challenge of climate change and the failure to address it through nation-based political “agreements”, the current generation will come to be seen as the first that lived out “the challenge of global learning”. That generation may come to see that it is more than abstract knowledge that is advanced when we understand that “the global” can itself be used as a cool concept, a compact cognitive and social device to be packed for some practical uses, but then re-opened for others. Current provisions in teacher education around the topic of literacy generally fall well short of adequately supporting educators – teachers, school leaders, and policymakers – who wish to initiate and implement programs that are about, for, and with the globe. The shortfall relates not just to technical expertise but equally importantly to the conceptual, methodological, dispositional, and critical resources needed to recruit websites into programmatic, curricular, pedagogical, and assessment activities. This, like reform around climate change, seems to be a multigenerational global challenge.

References American Psychological Association. (n.d.) Links to data sets and repositories. Retrieved October 24, 2015 from: http://www.apa.org/research/responsible/data-links.aspx Barrett, A.M. (2011). An education millennium development goal for quality: Complexity and democracy. Compare: A Journal of Comparative and International Education, 41, 145-148. Biesta, G. (2007). Why “what works” won’t work: Evidence-based practice and the democratic deficit in educational research. Educational Theory, 57, 1-22. Christie, F. & Derewianka, B. (2008). School discourse: Learning to write across the years of schooling. London: Continuum. Clanchy, M. T. (2013). From memory to written record: England 10661307 (3rd ed.). Cambridge, UK: Wiley-Blackwell. Crystal, D. (2002). Language death. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.

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Desrosières, A. (1998). The politics of large numbers: A history of statistical reasoning (C. Nash, Trans.). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Fraatz, J. M. (1987). The politics of reading: Power, opportunity, and prospects for change in America’s public schools. New York: Teachers College Press. Freebody, P. (2014). Foreword. Literacy and a new global citizenry? In C. Burnett, J. Davies, G. Merchant & J. Rowsell (Eds.), New literacies around the globe: Policy and pedagogy, xi-xviii. New York: Routledge. Freebody, P., Chan, E. & Barton, G. (2013). Curriculum as literate practice: Language and knowledge in the classroom. In K. Hall, T. Cremin, B. Comber & L. C. Moll (Eds.), International handbook of research on children’s literacy, learning, and culture, 304-318. Oxford, UK: Wiley-Blackwell. Graff, H. J. (2001). Literacy’s myths and legacies: From lessons from the history of literacy to the question of critical literacy. In P. Freebody, S. Muspratt & B. Dwyer (Eds.), Difference, silence, and textual practice: Studies in critical literacy, 1–30. Cresskill, NJ: Hampton Press. —. (2010). The literacy myth at thirty. Journal of Social History, 43(3), 635-661. Gurria, A. (2010). Forewords. PISA 2009 results: What students know and can do – Student performance in reading, mathematics and science, (Vol. I), 3–5. Paris: OECD Publishing. —. (2013). Forewords. OECD skills outlook 2013: First results from the survey of adult skills, 3. Paris: OECD Publishing. Johnson, W. A. & Parker, H. N. (2009). (Eds.). Ancient literacies: The culture of reading in Greece and Rome. New York: Oxford University Press. Knutsson, B. & Lindberg, J. (2012). Education, development and the imaginary global consensus: Reframing educational planning dilemmas in the South. Third World Quarterly, 33, 807-824. Lankshear, C. & Lawler, M. (1987). Literacy, schooling and revolution. London: Falmer Press. Leiser, D., Bourgeois-Gironde, S. & Beinta, R. (2010). Human foibles or systemic failure? Lay perceptions of the 2008-9 financial crisis. Journal of Socio-Economics, 39, 132-141. Luke, A. (1988). Literacy, textbooks and ideology: Postwar literacy and the mythology of Dick and Jane. London: Falmer Press.

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Markauskaite, L., Freebody, P. & Irwin, J. (Eds.) (2011). Methodological choice and design: Scholarship, policy and practice in social and educational research. Dordrecht, Netherlands: Springer Science. Mayer, D., Doecke, B., Dixon, M., Kostogriz, A., Allard, A., White, S. & Hodder, P. (2014). Longitudinal teacher education and workforce study (LTEWS): Final report. Commonwealth of Australia. Retrieved April 23, 2016 from: https://docs.education.gov.au/system/files/doc/other/ltews_main_report .pdf. McKitterick, R. (1990). The uses of literacy in medieval Europe. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Moje, E. B. & Luke, A. (2009). Literacy and identity: Examining the metaphors in history and contemporary research. Reading Research Quarterly, 44(4), 415-437. Nettle, D. & Romaine, S. (2002). Vanishing voices: The extinction of the world’s languages. New York: Oxford University Press. OECD (Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development). (2003). First results from PISA 2003. Paris: OECD Publishing. OECD. (2010). PISA 2009 Results: What students know and can do – Student performance in reading, mathematics and science (Vol. I). Paris: OECD Publishing. —. (2013). OECD Skills outlook 2013: First results from the survey of adult skills. Paris: OECD Publishing. —. (2014). PISA 2012 results: What students know and can do – Student performance in mathematics, reading and science (Vol. I, revised edition). Paris: OECD Publishing. Ostler, N. & Rudes, B. (Eds.). (2000). Endangered languages and literacy. Bath, UK: The Foundation for Endangered Languages. Perry, K. (2012). What is Literacy? – A critical overview of sociocultural perspectives. Journal of Language and Literacy Education, 8(1), 5071. Scribner, S. & Cole, M. (1981). The psychology of literacy. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Street, B.V. (1984). Literacy in theory and practice. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. UNESCO Institute for Statistics. (2014). International literacy data, 2014. Retrieved October 24, 2015 from: http://www.uis.unesco.org/literacy/Pages/literacy-data-release2014.aspx.

INTERNATIONALISATION AND STUDENT SECURITY IN HIGHER EDUCATION: EXPLORING PLURIENGLISH(ES) IN GLOBAL LEARNING KOO YEW LIE SOAS, UNITED KINGDOM CHARLES DARWIN UNIVERSITY, AUSTRALIA

Abstract Much of the focus of internationalisation in higher education is on institutional mobility programmes, credit transfer, visa and immigration issues. Relatively little has been discussed on the substantive issue of the role of the English language and other languages in internationalisation. The dominance of a narrow and idealised view of Standard English ignores wider issues around knowledge construction and teaching and learning, and as argued in this chapter, the serious implications for equitable internationalisation in terms of access, equity, and shared citizenship. The chapter illustrates my own conceptualisation of PluriEnglish(es), one which sees hybrid linguacultural forms that are multiply interconnected and developed in global spaces as a vital resource for meaning making and knowledge production of multilingual actors. I suggest that such a view will help empower multilingual students who form the majority of international students. More generally, this chapter argues for a genuinely dialogic, intercultural and equitable internationalisation through PluriEnglish(es) as a shared global citizens’ language opening up possibilities for serious engagement.

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Introduction With intense and rapid changes in ICT, the knowledge economy and the compression of space and time, the local and global contexts of higher education and the requirements of learning, work and citizenship are fast changing. Scholars and stakeholders interested in higher education need to engage with key questions on the language, knowledge and literacies required for learners, workers and citizens to be involved meaningfully with the global context of learning, work and civic engagement. Internationalisation policies in higher education often fail to adequately respond to the changing realities, needs and resources of the mobile global subjects belonging to multiple and intersecting speech communities who have plural (but not always stable) affiliations to several distinct and/or overlapping cultures and subcultures. This particular subject position brings with it challenges and tensions. For example, when he first arrived at a Malaysian Public University, a postgraduate student called Suleiman from Palestine said that he experienced “a war zone of languages” (Koo, 2009b, p. 89). He had to confront a plethora of languages, including what he later understood to be Malaysian Englishes (and their subvarieties), academic Englishes and a host of languages (Bahasa Malaysia, Mandarin) and their subvarieties on campus, as well as off campus. Mobile students like Suleiman are meaning-makers who have to acquire, at the very least, various varieties, genres and styles of English. These English varieties are often mixed in a singular instance of language use reflecting the history, learning and contexts of the diverse sociolinguistic communities represented. In the international campus setting, students like Suleiman have to cope with these differentiated languages and acquire particular literacies to succeed. What is the response of higher education to students like him?

Aims The conceptualisation of PluriEnglish(es) in this paper seeks to address the gap in the dominant discourse of internationalisation and language in terms of the predominance and normalisation of a “Standard” English, attributing student failure or lack of engagement primarily to the students and their English language proficiency in terms of particular “standards”. However, much more lies beneath this simplistic notion. Proficiency does matter to some degree, but the challenge is to understand its measure, terms and sources of legitimation.

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As a challenge to the narrow view of language use in higher education which targets students’ resources, I propose an alternative conceptualisation, that of PluriEnglish(es). I argue that higher education has to work with an expanded view of English, which I am exploring in terms of PluriEnglish(es), which emerge(s), as a result of globalisation, from the diverse and intersecting contexts of intercultural communication. Such Englishes are often creatively and resourcefully used by global multilingual meaning-makers to communicate within and across diverse sociocultural groups which share at least one common language, English.

Methodology I will begin this chapter with an exploratory conceptualisation of PluriEnglish(es), which is an expanded view of language use which seeks to address the current disconnect between the realities of language use in the world and the lack of attention to the vast changes in English language and its use in communication. Global communication is increasingly plurilingual/cultural (inflected with the plural cultures of its mobile users) and embodying the polyphonic voices of its users. Next, I will move on to a discussion on internationalisation and identify the key issues and the challenges of higher education with regard to students’ experiences and students’ security. Here, I suggest that student learning and knowledge production are not seriously engaged if a student’s cultural knowledge and experiences, embedded in his/her linguacultural voice(s), are constantly and unproblematically silenced as foreign or seen as “the other”. I will argue that more is at stake than the question of language per se, as plurilinguacultural use is integral to identity, meaning-making and language use. Since the best of international education is about producing knowledge through such linguacultures, I suggest that the students’ way of knowing is better served when higher education institutions engage their students’ plural identities and their plurilingual/cultural resources. Negotiating plurality is not a seamless process, not least in terms of the linguacultural means of knowing, as some meaning-making systems are positioned as more legitimate than others. This would necessarily involve a radical rethinking of the international students’ diverse linguistic repertoire and prior experiences in relation to the dominant and legitimised language and knowledge systems of host institutions and countries. Bridging diverse cultures and languages is

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critical and I argue that the concept of PluriEnglish(es) affords a way of entry to explore the borderlines and the crossings necessary in global engagement. PluriEnglish(es) may offer opportunities for inclusive global learning and knowledge production.

An Exploratory Concept of PluriEnglish(es) Drawing on sociocultural and constructivist lenses (Lave & Wenger, 1991), the proposal for re-conceptualisation of English views the synthesis of various linguistic systems, together with discourses/traces/fractals from other languages/cultures, including the cultures and subcultures of their multilingual speakers, as inevitable due to the nature of language use. PluriEnglish(es) as a concept describes the pan-configuration of possible codes, including language codes other than English, genres and styles that the global meaning-makers have to draw on to engage with intersecting sociocultural contexts. I see PluriEnglish(es) as a generic, sociolinguistic, global variety emerging at the conjuncture of the meaning-makers’ various linguistic and cultural trajectories and contexts in relation to other speakers. PluriEnglish(es) may cover a range of Englishes, including differentiated Englishes used in diverse speech communities. These are likely to have substrata or traces of other languages and subcultures (of occupation, interest groups and affiliation), styles, varieties, dialects, slang, disciplinary or occupational register, specialist genres and oral vis-à-vis written texts, including those from other language codes. PluriEnglish(es) is the generic overarching term I would like to give to a range of institutionalised Englishes (World Englishes) and those less institutionalised (English as lingua franca) that are used together in combination with traces or constituents of other linguacultural systems for global communication. In the past, World English and English as lingua franca were looked at in terms of separate linguistic systems. Due to intense globalisation and compression of time-space dynamics, I believe that it would be necessary to include into these definitions the entities from other linguacultural codes to form a generic composition of language use, each code circuiting into the other in part trajectorially, as deemed to fit. Indeed, global communicators may use PluriEnglish(es) together with other languages (either discoursal entities or traces of such) as appropriate to the intercultural communicative situation which requires engagement of linguacultures on various levels at the same time. In this exploratory

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conceptualisation of PluriEnglish(es), the language user’s voice is crucial. This personal voice is a hybrid of a person’s semantic, expressive and representational intentions with that of “the other” (Bakhtin, 1981). In fact, the self and “the other” intersect with each other in many different ways. To summarise, I postulate PluriEnglish(es) as the generic product and the process(es) of language use of a multilingual user of English (a multilingual meaning-maker) with influences and elements of the following: x the multilingual communicator’s voice (Bakhtin, 1981). This personal voice is a hybrid composition comprising a person’s semantic, expressive and representational intentions with that of “the other”. x institutionalised Englishes (World English), including their subvarieties, genres (academic, professional, workplace and others) and styles (formal, non-formal). x less institutionalised English language varieties (English as lingua franca entities and those which are yet to be coded or documented but are coming into their own). x other language codes, including discoursal influences and linguacultural constituents, elements and traces. x new multimodal forms (semiotic signs) which have developed due to digitisation of information and knowledge. (Note: this is not discussed in this chapter.) In PluriEnglish(es), the multilingual communicator attempts to build common grounds with the interlocutor using, at any communicative point, multiple intersecting levels of word, grammar and discourse with “the other”. These constituents are simultaneously engaged by students like Suleiman to negotiate the borderlines of cultures and to cross local and transnational spaces. The units in PluriEnglish(es) are synthesised as meaningful entities comprising units unified possibly at the phrase, clause, speech act, text or discourse levels. They intersect at these levels through English, mostly but not exclusively, as other language codes may contribute and may be used depending on the shared cultural contexts of the multilingual speakers and what may seem maximally important to them. I offer the concept of PluriEnglish(es) as a challenge to the dominant assumptions of an idealised English language proficiency which, arguably, denies multilingual and culturally diverse communities and their subjects

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(who form a large part of the international student community) their voice, ways of knowing, representation and agency. PluriEnglish(es), as the interweaving of at least two language codes and traces, will perhaps be viewed by outsiders as a disjunctural blend of languages. However, to the insiders who are situated in such multilingual speech communities, the composition is a meaningful and coherent whole. It is situationally/contextually meaningful to the communicators. PluriEnglish(es) tends to occupy a continuum of intelligibility and interpretability which are interpreted and produced by the communicators emergently and contextually. Negotiation of meaning has to be done interdiscursively, often by multilinguals, who are used to accommodating to each other’s attempts to converge on shared grounds. The consequence of such mobile conditions of language use or meaningmaking leads to a tense and yet creative and flexible human linguacultural connection that is carefully balanced between low levels of understanding to satisfactory relational degrees of understanding which are contextually negotiated between the speakers. Overlapping, intersections and cross sections of such languages/cultures may lead eventually to systematic and acceptable forms.

Internationalisation: Engagement with “the Other”? Internationalisation has many definitions. Teichler (2004), for example, emphasises the knowledge dimensions between systems and the role of intangible elements such as culture and language. Marginson (2006) has looked at internationalisation in terms of the simultaneous and complex interaction of words, ideas, knowledge, finance, networks and university operations which occur at local, national and global levels and which create possibilities of a “single world-wide arrangement”. My own objective is to identify possibilities in terms of the connections that PluriEnglish(es) affords for multilingual actors. Bartell (2003) argued that internationalisation is multi-discursive and is based on conflicting and contested positions. It is “instrumental, introductory, conceptually simple, disciplinary-reductionist, and static” (p. 45) or an “ongoing, future-oriented, multidimensional, interdisciplinary, leadership-driven vision” (p. 46) in relation to mobility, research, collaboration and governance. I hope, through this chapter, to offer a position that is future-oriented and geared towards increasingly inclusive practices of internationalisation. My concern here is that, in terms of

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English language use, internationalisation policy and practice tend to be primarily instrumentalist and driven by the values of the marketplace. Much less attention is given to the philosophy of cultural connections and dialogue that a humanistic internationalisation in higher education is hoped to generate. PluriEnglish(es) as a methodology is an attempt to contest the current dominant and unjust discourses, which are overly regulated by the marketplace, and to attempt to work towards bridging the increasing divides between students, their contexts and some of the powerful agents in higher education, including policymakers and gatekeepers. Sidhu (2004) has argued against the surface attention which is presently given to genuine engagement and hybridity in the internationalisation of Australian higher education. He critiques the current policy and practices where the focus has been on surface forms, such as tokenistic cultural events, rather than on deep and substantive engagement with the diverse cultures of students and the support that they need. He maintains that the approach and values privileged in Australian higher education are essentially Western, ethnocentric and corporation-based. Kell and Vogl (2010) raise questions regarding the role of English language in higher education in the Asia-Pacific in terms of how international students’ English language proficiency and use influence their international experience in Australia. The authors address a wide range of issues relating to this and criticise the neoliberal profit-making agenda of Australian universities as well as the laissez-faire approach of universities. Their study provides nuanced insights as to how international students find their initial study of English had prepared them differentially for academic and community life in Australia. Kell and Vogl (2010) show that institutional provisions in Australian universities were inadequate to support such students. They have also argued for a rethinking on how internationalisation is positioned in the lives of international students, critiquing easy stereotypes of international students as being “passive” and not adequately “critical”. Sawir, Marginson, Forbes-Mewett, Nyland and Ramia (2012) have raised the issue of international student insecurity in relation to English language proficiency. Although language proficiency is addressed as the main issue and as a serious concern determining student success, in my view, the problem has to be broadened in order to include the intense pressures on mobile students as they move across the complex plural spaces where diverse language and cultures meet. Here, questions around acceptability,

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recognition and validation need to be asked. The belief in an idealised and pure academic English language does not take into account those penumbras of contact which are characteristic of cultural globalisation, intense developments in ICT and the emergence of language and communication forms to cope with these encounters which have led to language and cultural shifts at an accelerated rate. In some ways education has not kept up with the rapid changes, resulting in new forms of language use and new ways of communicating. In a study by Koo et al. (2013), which assessed postgraduate research student (both domestic and international) experiences in public higher education institutions in Malaysia, importance was placed on English language communication in the design of the Research Student Experience Questionnaire (MyPREQ). Other measures included (a) supervision, (b) intellectual climate, (c) research skill development, (d) system, infrastructure and research resources, (e) roles and responsibilities, (f) proposal defence and thesis examination, (g) international exposure in a research context, (h) intercultural communication needs and support, and (i) professional development of students as knowledge workers. In the findings of the survey, the postgraduate students (both domestic and international) indicated that they were receiving adequate support from their institutions in addressing the needs of English language communication. Further, the survey showed that the international and domestic students were experiencing difficulties in intercultural communication and a lack of adequate support in this regard. The students were dissatisfied with research skill development opportunities, particularly in terms of their involvement with the research community and in research training activities. What emerged from the study was a clear sense that English language proficiency, although important, was always seen in relation to students’ wider socialisation issues into the literacy of producing knowledge and, also, their future employment. The postgraduate students seek to become partners in knowledge production through research networks, faculty-student interactions and generic skills (analytical and problem solving) development activities that, although deemed adequate, were not viewed as excellent. Internationalisation policy and practices, as in the Malaysian case, tend to see English language proficiency as important but miss the bigger picture in terms of relevance to active research and employment that are considered most crucial by students. In fact, this is vitally interlocked with

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deep concerns about the epistemic and knowledge production skills in preparation for the workplace. A study of international students in the University of Toledo in the United States of America (Sherry, Thomas & Chu, 2010) found that besides English language proficiency, international students experience broad cultural, academic and financial challenges. They identified and discussed the problem of international student vulnerability and how it is impacted by the lack of institutional commitment to the needs of students. They described these difficulties as related to broader issues of discrimination and the exploitation of international students in terms of economistic gains. The recognition of an idealised English language has been facilitated in large part by the cultural powerhouses and market machinery of Anglophone systems in the West (Pennycook, 2007, 2012; Phillipson, 1992, 2003, 2008). Despite World English scholarship (Crystal, 2003) and more recently, English as Lingua Franca (Jenkins, 2006a, 2006b; Seidlhofer, 2007), the institutional recognition of idealised Native Speaker varieties dominates. Native Speaker varieties are maintained as the default standard benchmark in higher education. These norms are unquestioned and reproduced in programmes, curricula, textbooks, syllabi and knowledge systems of advanced Anglophone universities as well as in institutions further afield and under their hegemonic influence (Phillipson, 1992). This is done in disregard of the needs of the contexts of increasingly multilingual/cultural subjects, whether students, teachers or academic researchers with multi-layered histories and experiences. In ASEAN countries, regional standards, at least officially, continue to revolve around Native Speaker tests such as IELTS. Lee and Koo (2015) suggest that in terms of literature, Native Speaker contexts and Native Speaker language (Quirk, 1961; Gains, 1999) remain the dominant model. For example, although diverse accents are experienced in international business English (Blum & Johnson, 2012), the abstract, reified model pervades and is privileged, when in fact broader questions on identity, power and systems of knowledge and cultures are concerned and should be given proper attention (Koo, 2008; 2013). Despite the rising scholarship of changes in actual forms and varieties of linguacultural forms in global environments, including institutionalised contexts (Lee & Koo, 2015; Aghaei, Koo & Mohd, 2012; Singh, Kell & Pandian, 2002), policy realisations are distant and practices marginalised

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and remain non-institutionalised. The acceptance of working Englishes on the ground as lingua franca has been very slow and they have been largely positioned in examinations and tests as well as in EFL/ESL pedagogy to be erroneous, creole, pidgin and deficient, even when they are evidently used by some gatekeepers, particularly in the field of Applied Linguistics (Breiteneder, 2005; Kumaravadivelu, 2006). In international policy and practice, such forms and varieties are still seen as nonstandard, and recognition, if any at all, remains glancing. Recognition of Englishes as lingua franca is embryonic in terms of their acceptance in policy circles, and their influence on policy, pedagogic approaches, curriculum and resources is minimal. Foucault (1980) argues that those who dominate the structures of power in society determine the meanings of those who are subordinate to them. Institutions and their gatekeepers reproduce knowledge systems and structure the institutional as well as the popular and common understandings through their control of discourse. Indeed, this process of reproduction of power and discourse illustrates the expectations framing the perceptions of institutions of their international students. The authority vested in the Native Speaker speaks through these expectations and informs the illusion of what a Native Speaker knows and is. The reality is traded for a model and so are the lives of the multilingual students (Koo, 2008; Che Musa, Koo & Azman, 2012). The imagined Native Speaker acquires life through the disciplinary and punitive regime of the “language requirement” (Lee & Koo, 2015). On the ground and at the chalk face, multilingual teachers work with multilingual speech communities in universities to shape the forms of English to fairly acceptable forms in context. They work with such students so that there is acceptable convergence in their language for institutional purposes. Those who engage directly with multilingual students, mostly teachers and educators, see a mixing of language in use and hence engage with students’ multiple zones of contact with extant linguistic resources to come up with contextualised or situated writing and speaking. Although the dominant discourses and models of English are widely institutionalised, there are teachers who work to engage with the complex cultures and experiences of their students. The linguacultures are lived, performed and embodied realities of those who engage in higher education as or with multilingual people and students (Ramiah, Koo & Mustafa, 2007). Such literacies recognise the

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vital practice of teacher-student negotiations. Here, teachers work with students’ mixed conjunctures of languages to mediate possibilities of understanding. To date, these teacher interventions on the ground are not visible and have not been recognised sufficiently well to be gamechanging. Action research has not had sufficient impact. The interventions of teachers have not had a significant effect on internationalisation policies, not least in evaluation and testing in higher education due to possible messiness in operationalisation and dominant politics of Standard English. Institutionalisation puts a gloss on what appears on official documents in terms of “standards”. Most institutions and countries assume a threshold level of proficiency, especially with postgraduates as determined by IELTS or TOEFL, assuming that further support is unnecessary ignoring that, with globalisation, communication is afforded by a range of linguistic codes, varieties, genres, styles, influenced by national origin, ethnicity, profession, lifestyle and subgroup cultural entities as well as multimodal forms. Bridging between such forms is the work of education. At the same time, the contestation for recognising expanded forms must gain centre ground.

Internationalisation and Knowledge Production: The Disconnect in Ways of Knowing The earlier motives for internationalisation prioritised the strengthening of human and cultural relations between peoples from diverse higher education systems to enrich human understandings. Blommaert and Verschueren (1998) argue that there are dominant ideological assumptions behind education policies that are discriminatory. Broadly, the dominance of Northern systems and epistemologies has crowded out other knowledge systems, especially those of the South (Dzulkifli, 2012). Marketplace ideas of encouraging internationalisation to increase the size of the student market primarily for economic gains prevails (Kell & Vogl, 2010). Neoliberal internationalisation is now primarily used as a means of capturing a more diverse student market share and to gain a competitive global presence, which are unfortunately often seen as positive if high rankings are achieved in internationalisation indicators such as international student arrivals or the presence of international staff in an institution or country. The original ethos and values of academic collaboration and support through pluricultural knowledge exchange based on equitable and reciprocal terms have been severely challenged in the dominant

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marketplace of internationalisation. This was due to the intense competition for profits and the consumerist reproduction of rankings. Socalled international curricula and programmes look much more alike in terms of their content from Northern universities. Indigenous ways of knowing seem to be missing or underrepresented. Northern higher education systems, with well-resourced and established knowledge capital and cultural machinery, documentation and instrumentation in place, tend to promote their own practices and values with less concern for how other, usually less tangibly organised systems, might operate. This continues to be the case while there is also a welcome shift to work with diverse knowledge systems. In large part, the higher education system reproduces much of the order of the “English Language Only”-rule referenced to Native Speaker forms. The acceptance of a wider range of English language uses in academic English remains largely elusive. The worldwide acceptance of IELTS and TOEFL for entry into higher education up to this very day speaks of the naturalised, institutional power of Standard English as referenced to dominant Native Speaker norms. This narrow picture of language proficiency, communication and ways of being is built on unrealistic native models and contexts. Such perspectives and views marginalise the living socio- and psycholinguistic realities of mobile, multilingual communicators of English in interlocked localglobal spaces. Symbolic violence and suffering, such as experienced by Suleiman, are reproduced in internationalisation even when well intentioned. Currently in institutionalised English, the tendency is to use the unquestioned and entrenched variety, known as the generic international or global variety, accepted for curricula, teaching and learning, examinations and benchmarking purposes. Phillipson (1992) explores the political relations between what he termed the “core-English countries” and “periphery English-countries”. Underpinning this relationship is the dominance of power maintained by the Western countries vis-à-vis other developing nations and this is accompanied by “English linguistic imperialism”, the dominance of English as asserted and maintained by the establishment and continuous reconstitution of structural and cultural inequalities between English and other languages” (Phillipson, 1992, p. 47). The normalisation of Standard English persists in higher education, reproducing much of the same order. Standard Native Speaker English is used as a cultural commodity to position universities in a competitive field

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which privileges the advanced systems of the West with their repository and knowledge systems. Philipson (1992) critiques the hegemony of the English language which, he has argued, has largely dictated the standards of use in international academic environments including the use of particular “native” English varieties for curricula, texts, teaching and learning and tests. The debate around English language use is of course integrally related to internationalisation, as one of the key concerns here is to do with the recognition of a particular variety or varieties as being the appropriate one for use in international higher education. In fact, scholars like Philipson (2008, 1992) are concerned with the rhetoric in the marketing of English language industries to the extent that he describes it as a lingua franca/frankensteinia product which is branded through metaphors of English as “international”, global and intermeshed with “economic/material systems, structures, institutions, and US empire” and is asserted in political, economic, military, media, academic, and educational discourses. Philipson critiques the hegemony of the English language which, he has argued, has largely dictated the standards of use in international academic environments, including the use of particular English varieties for curricula, texts, teaching and learning and tests. Language and cultural issues are the substance of knowledge production and meaning-making in education and determine the degree of access, equity, participation, and the common good of a democratic society. Democratisation of languages and cultures is a right. It would mean that subjects have more opportunities to experience the right to being, to mean, and to create and shape knowledge. In local as in global higher education, there is a serious need to engage with the complex linguacultural scapes which multilingual students bring with them into the classroom, such as engaging with the tough questions of whose meanings matter, and why and what are the consequences of ignoring such meanings, whilst being simultaneously aware that students need to engage with institutionalised discourses. However, these discourses are not fixed and must be shaped and enriched with new ways of talking and with expanded meanings. The concept of “English” is integrally linked to the question of epistemic knowledge. Internationalisation at its aspirational best recognises the presence of the comparative, intercultural, interdisciplinary dimension as a criterion of international content (Knight, 2008). This necessitates involving programmes with international themes, programmes infused with international, cultural, global or comparative dimensions. These

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changes relate both to knowledge construction and to broader questions involving teaching and learning, and to the genuine cultural diversity of the international classroom. In an earlier study including Australian, Malaysian and Iranian postgraduate students on the use of cultural knowledge in their theses, McGinty, Koo and Saeidi (2010) argued that most students, whether or not their first language was English, shared similar ideas about the normalisation of western epistemologies (e.g. the process of thesis writing and the roles expected of a supervisor and themselves). Although the students seemed theoretically open to alternative ways of knowing, the majority of them tended to use western epistemologies as they were normalised and more easily accessed due to the availability of expertise, resources and familiarity. It must be said that epistemologies may be embedded in the mother tongue or other languages of the student. However, in a higher education environment, where meaning-making systems which are embedded in or represented in other languages are not easily accessed, the supervisors silence different possibilities. McGinty (2012, p. 10) narrates that, as a supervisor, I found it difficult to draw the line between demanding high standard work from Indigenous Ph.D. students and being seen to be critical of ideas that Indigenous students expressed about their cultural practices. For example, Karen Martin wrote one of her thesis chapters in her story work mode. This was a way of telling traditional stories with a repetitive style of sentence construction. When I challenged this way of writing English, we had to negotiate that line of what is culturally right and what is right in English writing practice. Valuing the incorporation of Indigenous Knowledges into thesis production meant I had to value this style of storying with which I was unfamiliar. Sometimes the learning is for the professor, not the student!

What seems clear is that the lines between epistemologies and ways of writing in English(es) intersect. There are epistemes embodied and represented in multilingual students’ other languages and cultures which may be silenced by a system which is conventionally fixed on dominant norms and practices. Further, Indigenous ways of knowing are enriched by the influences and effects of other knowledge systems.

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Internationalisation through PluriEnglish(es): Understanding the Borderlines and Negotiating the Crossings Between Diverse Knowledge Systems and Languages According to Kell and Vogl (2007, p. 17), Australian higher education maintains that “[a]mbivalence manifests itself in conditional ways of responding to internationalisation. This has been most evident in many of the teaching practices and pedagogical practices of universities where European and Australian products are simply exported without modification for the cultural context of the learners”. I would suggest that both centripetal and centrifugal influences are potentially of value to enrichment. Kell, Phillips and Hoare (2011) argue that the fast-changing demands of Australian tertiary education in many of its off-shore programmes are somehow impeded by universities’ inability to respond to the need for customised curriculum material and delivery systems. Moreover, preparation of quality staff has not accompanied the accelerated progress to internationalisation, and many academic staff teaching in off-shore settings or programmes with high international student enrolments have struggled with the diverse academic cultures, language proficiency and different expectations of an academic’s role in varied cultural settings (Kell, Phillips, & Hoare, 2011, p. 28). In regards to this, the PluriEnglish(es) view may help with moves towards an expanded multi- or interdisciplinary curriculum, English Language academic studies, comparative and regional studies and foreign language proficiency alongside English language learning incorporating teaching and learning strategies that account for the differentiated nature of teaching and learning in culturally diverse international contexts through reciprocal exchanges of knowledge. The knowledge dimension of internationalisation, as argued by Teichler (2004), includes knowledge construction from diverse cultures as well as intercultural/border crossing in communication/discourse. Teichler’s (pp. 9-10) analysis of changes in higher education has articulated the knowledge dimension, or more specifically, matters related to the bordercrossing movement of knowledge. Presently, much of this will be conducted through what may be “standard academic English” and, arguably, the academic register of the subjects/disciplines. I imagine that in a serious internationalisation regarding some subject matter

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(international studies for example), the ways and attempts to converge on both teacher and learner would form a kind of third space using the working Englishes of collaborators/partners to construct new ways of connecting as well as new knowledge. At this point in time, I would imagine, such affordances are deleted in the name of standardisation and convergence, with the dominant language or cultural code used to facilitate and standardise “testing”, thus neglecting the educational possibilities of the in-between states of meaning and of being. In the PluriEnglish(es) perspective, there are vital opportunities to open up the conversations between borderlines and to negotiate the border crossings between different types of knowing when using the working language(s) of the student, which may not be “standard” as yet, although an acceptable standard would be eventually worked out for certain purposes, for example in academic publications. It is envisaged that even publishing standards would transform as the notions of acceptable English change over time with awareness, use, and representation from English language editors and publishers from diverse mother tongue backgrounds and as contexts change, requiring new languages, new ways to mean. Hence, the possibilities of PluriEnglish(es) to help the various actors in higher education to cross/disrupt/enrich normal discourses, languages and disciplines are there. Global policymakers and agents in higher education have not as yet seen the enormous potential of the ways of knowing through engaging with the new forms of Englishes, except in humour, especially in the case of jokes, involving “poor” translation of other languages into English. The opposite hardly happens in the dominant cultural politics of English, but it would be humorous too, I suspect. In a new knowledge economy, where innovation is argued to be central, PluriEnglish(es) may offer a lens into the resources potentially available with the inventive play afforded through PluriEnglish(es). This may be thought of as a form of cultural capital for innovation in culturally diverse and permeable spaces. As pointed out by Weininger and Lareau (n.d), who refer to Pierre Bourdieu, any “competence” has the potential to be transformed into a “capital” when it facilitates the “appropriation” of cultural heritage in a society. However, it has to be noted that certain parties might enjoy “exclusive advantages” during this transformation, as this emerging “capital” might be unequally distributed in a highly differentiated social structure and hierarchical society (Weininger & Lareau, n.d., p. 1).

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It is in this respect that higher education may level the opportunities for multilingual actors through equitable global learning and teaching. In transnational contexts, knowledge economies, specifically the creative and arts industries with their taste for niche consumer lifestyles and emphasis on edgy products, provide rich examples of the innovative and experimental use of new language and cultural forms. In fact, this is even more so if comparative, regional or international studies are provided across the international curriculum with a strand on language use in pluricultural contexts. Obviously, more is at stake than participation in knowledge economies. Citizenship and the representation of self and one’s place in the world are equally important. PluriEnglish(es), as imagined here, emerges from the dialogic interaction of the self and “the other”, producing new speech genres and, by implication, new ways of knowing and new knowledge. The dialogic interaction of speech genres constantly produces new speech genres and new knowledge. New relations produce new forms of speech or give new meanings to old forms. It is also at the interactive space of speech genres that language becomes meaningful and purposeful for the language user or the meaning-maker. In my view, too much “unity”, or prescribed standardised entities, may constrain thinking or ways of being, although it is needed to a certain extent for easy convergence in fairly closed genres, and yet genres by their very nature are tense compositions between fixed and poetic language in order to remain dynamic and relevant. The crucial enrichment of, and divergence from, established language forms and genres is inevitable when semantic, grammatical units and discourse combine in new ways at various points of linguistic/cultural contact, as reflected in institutionalised forms, such as World Englishes (previously viewed as inferior forms as compared to “Native Speaker” forms), and emergent ones, such as English as lingua franca as part of the PluriEnglish(es) umbrella. The presence of other languages which multilingual speakers engage, however, has been made invisible, a phenomenon which PluriEnglish(es) seeks to represent and to account for. Such emergent new entities, fused with established ones, constitute languages and cultures in action. Hence, PluriEnglish(es) involves “new” forms of language coexisting with constituents from established and emergent linguacultural systems. A PanEnglish or Global English, as in PluriEnglish(es), is open and dynamic, exposed to invention and imagination, and creating and sustaining circles of individual-collective fellowship of meaning.

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PluriEnglish(es) in Global Learning and Knowledge Production The question of PluriEnglish(es) is not only about language per se but engages broader issues around the recognition and validation of ways of knowing multilingual subjects and communities in knowledge production. PluriEnglish(es) is offered as a new way of seeing the world of multilinguals. It offers a challenge to the academy and the knowledge economy in terms of alternative and plural espistemologies in internationalisation and society. PluriEnglish(es) views language in terms of embodiment and representations of cultures which are social systems of communicatively realised practices. Language is viewed in terms of the tools, the social practices, the resources and the strategies to engage in such social interaction. Languages of a multilingual meaning-maker are not mutually exclusive. They intersect and synthesise with each other in many different ways. Globalisation has become an increasingly major force in transforming our learning experiences in classroom and other institutional settings (Hall, 2012, p. 64). Increasingly, there are growing numbers of multilingual global communities around the world. The international classrooms are complex communicative space(s), interpenetrated with the traces of other communicative encounters and discourses, both institutional and popular, everyday in nature. Classrooms engage in socioculturally constructed processes of changing patterns of participation in social practices within communities of practice (Gee & Green, 1998). The new global learning environment requires educators and teachers to respond to the situated environments of the learners where opportunities for inclusive practice are enhanced. This is in contrast to static learning that is decontextualised and is reliant on generic approaches to learning. New, relevant and engaging forms of learning are required that integrate with the challenges of the changing society, learning environments, global workplace and the community (Kell, Singh & Shore 2004). Constructivist scholarship suggests that learning and knowing have a lot to do with the dynamics of the social and the personal. Learning is a social process of becoming and “doing” a discourse in a new language (Wenger, 1998). Indeed, I hold the same position as Gee (1996) who sees English language use in terms of acquiring new ways of

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thinking, acting and doing in institutional groups. In the context of this paper, such ways of thinking should include new ways of meaning in English that have changed due to globalisation and time-space compression. This brings me to the next point. Taking Gee’s (1996) notion of discursive subjects or meaning-makers, such multilingual actors engage their linguacultural resources creatively to connect with members of the speech community in flux, comprising subjects from those who have increasingly differentiated Englishes, possibly marked, at the same time, by one or several of the following: nationality, ethnic origin, class subcultural style, professional or technical communities. They may make use of the cultural resources that derive from their primary life-worlds (e.g. family, community) or secondary life-worlds (e.g. education, work), as represented in their mother-tongues and/or second or other languages, to communicate and build knowledge. They employ cultural and linguistic resources to produce a mutual, conjoint working language and ways of knowing with varying degrees of success and cultural enrichment. Such multilingual student subjects are affiliated with multiple heteroglossic speech communities with different levels of literacy and competency. They need a variety of codes (not all unified by comprising traces of the other Englishes or languages that they speak) to manage these interactions. I present PluriEnglish(es), situated in Bakhtinian and constructivist perspectives, in which student voices develop (Bakhtin, 1981, 1986; Wenger, 1998) in dialogue with gatekeepers as a way of arriving at language forms and varieties of language, recognising that they have to negotiate these and approach them as an open system, whether it might be academic English or social English. I see these as open linguacultural systems which are subject to change. Such varieties embody the mixing and crossings of the languages/cultures of speech communities. This approach broadly calls for a critical concept, theory and pedagogy and for awareness of the politics of language use which may help provide greater access and equity to multilingual students in international education who currently form the majority of the world’s English-speaking population, thus enhancing both domestic and international student security.

An Exploratory Pedagogy of Plurienglishes: Knowing and Learning In higher education, students need guidance which is focused and scaffolded. At the same time, PluriEnglish(es) will provide a framework of support that recognises the dynamics of the modern, globalised world and

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works with students to arrive at academic genres in a mindful and critical manner (Koo, 2011). Such mediation between teacher and student through the concept of PluriEnglish(es) will help students develop their own voices (Bakhtin, 1981, 1986) and also contextualised literacies that are in line with their linguacultural journeys. In this regard, the use of translation (into students’ other languages), paraphrasing, simplification, multilingual use and multimodality may be helpful in socialising learners into such key events as lectures, tutorials, project work and presentation. This will promote learning primarily in terms of collaboration in communities of practice where experts, such as teachers, are mindful to work with the resources of multilingual learners (Koo, 2013). In terms of the sociocultural perspective, learning is enhanced through engaging with the PluriEnglish(es) of the meaning-makers and their “languaging” strategies which focus on instrumental (information focus) as well as expressive and representational functions. Both structural and functional forms and strategies are used as a result of such interactions. Meaning-making and learning are viewed as engaging with the processes (including linguistic and cultural ones) necessary for one to be socialised into the communicative activities of the group to which one wishes to belong. The individual learner takes a developmental course with the support of a teacher to acquire the tools, resources and strategies as a rite of passage into membership of speech communities. Such tools, resources and strategies are cumulative, as a product and process of going through the life journeys of meaning-makers. PluriEnglish(es) is created by multilinguals in a fashion which may look disorderly to outsiders who are not accustomed to its use but, in fact, it represents the “chaotic” spaces they inhabit, where diverse cultures — personal, local, and global — intersect. Such a body of languages from diverse trajectories, unified as one composition, articulate the distinctive features, characteristics and experiences of the multilingual speech communities they represent. Examples of multilingual/cultural texts provide evidence of the ways in which languages are hybridised and creolised in meaning-making as part of human mobility and global communication. This seeming disorder has a meaningful orderliness which insiders to such communities inhabit. In this regard, I see PluriEnglish(es) as affording a space for teaching and learning, where the linguacultural and digital circuits of connection and disconnection are explored in language and cultural forms (through conventional as well as experimental forms involving English language

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vocabulary, language patterns and discourse, as well as fractals from other language codes and varieties). The different types of PluriEnglish(es) are not impermeable water-tight compartments of codes, genres, and styles, but are rather unified assemblages of porous forms of linguacultures which afford expressive, contextual and relational meaning to the members of the speech communities involved. They may comprise discourses or traces/strands/threads/fractals/substrata from fixed or established linguacultural categories (those which are institutionalised and documented) as well as traces/fractals that do not yet fall into any of these categories. These constituents may have come from the meaning-makers’ other lifeworlds and life-journeys that do not fall into these idealised and tidy linguistic categories previously documented as Standard or World Englishes. Instead of only depending on categories that are used in the literature, I have used terms like fragments/fractals/traces, which are interjectionsinterruptions to institutionalised language used to express meanings afforded only through “disorderly” multiple forms and means. This expresses directly and vividly the complexities of such engagements and the appropriations of multilinguals into contingent communities of practice across diverse communities. At the same time, practices/strategies used by individuals and communities to connect relationally and situationally are engaged. These include translation, paraphrasing, paralinguistic gestures, and multimodal and digital forms of communication. The interactant will try to relate by creating shared understandings and by focusing on constituents of language at both the linguistic and discursive levels. Discourse (or traces at the smallest level), although it is not always recognisable as a distinct L1 (first language), L2 (second language), L3 (third language), etc., shapes linguacultural forms to connect with other speakers. The language which emerges is likely to be a meaningful hybrid of scripted and unscripted forms and varieties from the user’s various languages and life-experience and life worlds. Here the unexpected and unpredictable elements of language are discussed and engaged. Such language use may be recontextualised for specific purposes. It is envisaged that particular “errors” or deviations, as viewed from the perspective of Standard English, may in fact be an imaginative and inventive use of resources, such as those employed in global advertisements, e.g. NooHealth (as an enriched new form, closely related to New Health, which breaks conventional spelling to signal new ways of meaning and the capital of such novel expressions).

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A multilingual meaning-maker’ is silenced when her “erroneous language” of knowing, embodied and expressed in voices and in PluriEnglish(es), is not adequately recognised or supported. The personal and the community knowledge systems, embedded in the languages of multilingual users, have to be simultaneously engaged in conversation with those embodied in institutionally established languages so to allow for diverse identities and subject positions to be explored and developed. The tools used by the multilingual people include translation and transposition of their linguistic and cultural wealth (and include semiotic resources, although this is not discussed here). They emerge from the plural ways of being, seeing, doing. In this engagement, the composite cultural capital of the meaning-makers includes the use of various linguistic codes, images, icons, symbols, colours, and sounds, as well as nonlinguistic or multimodal resources. Such tools and processes of meaning-making cannot be separated from the meaning-makers’ primary and other life-worlds, which are constantly struggled over, silenced, othered or made invisible. In global learning, such consciousness should be made visible, as the praxis in such curriculum and pedagogy would help legitimise the use of such resources as a tool of reflection and critical awareness (Koo, 2003, 2004, 2007a, 2007b, 2009a, 2009b). PluriEnglish(es) takes a path which affirms the potential and the value of such tools to engage, design and position the vernacular, the folk, and the ethnocultural resources that arise from their primary life-worlds and in their mother tongue and other languages as resources for knowing in relation to “the other”. Communities and individuals express identities, voices, history, and ownership through PluriEnglish(es), which are their attempts at negotiating and/or playing with linguacultural boundaries while, at the same time, resisting assimilation to scripts which they do not wish to master or have not been able to master. In terms of the latter, they are forced to maintain a “history of place, time”, leaving traces of themselves in particular linguacultural forms, as demonstrated by Suleiman, a postgraduate student in Malaysia, from Palestine, in the extract below, When I came to Malaysia, I dealt with another variety of English – English as second language (ESL). Immediately I tried to adapt because I should communicate with Malaysian in both academic life and daily life. In addition to that I have to gain the culture of the Malaysian society to present my own identity (“leman identity”) in [an] appropriate way without violation to Malaysian customs. And this should be done - at least in my

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opinion - with any other variety of English in any speech community. (Koo, 2009b, p. 90)

In international teaching and learning, engaging with PluriEnglish(es) may entail talking to students about their practices and strategies, and encouraging reflexive and comparative thought. Teachers may have to acquire a broad intercultural openness to diverse ways of being-speakinglistening, reading-writing, and a willingness to accommodate and to tolerate a degree of ambiguity in the journeys of continued learning. In this regard, the teacher may take delight in the logic of, and reasons for, “deviances” in thinking and writing of multilingual students where, albeit initially, the process of unpacking the seemingly disjunctural language use may be difficult. Through this openness, one discovers the resourcefulness and adaptive flexibility of learners. In PluriEnglish(es)-informed pedagogies, teacher and student engagements are dialogic, genuinely participatory, emergent, and unfolding with increased priority on contextualised and culturally informed communication, committed to jointly co-constructed, relational understandings, with much less focus on the mechanistic achievement which is based on fixed and prescribed standards of meaning/discoursemaking.

Conclusion This paper has attempted an exploratory conceptualisation of PluriEnglish(es) as a lens into the language and knowledge dimensions of internationalisation with a view to increasing international student security in higher education. I have developed an exploratory conceptual perspective for what I argue to be inclusive higher education with a focus on equitable language use and knowledge production. Such a theoretical perspective would have implications for policy and practice in language education, the concept of knowledge construction and the support for students and teachers as well as other stakeholders in higher education. PluriEnglish(es) attempts to be game-changing. It seeks to transform higher education in a way in which the interests, epistemes, identities, worldviews, legitimate meaning-making, representation and aspirations of multilingual subjects, including students and other actors, are more visible and are communicated and represented. I advocate policies and practice to strengthen inclusive and holistic internationalisation through conjoint knowledge-construction and meaning-making which honour diverse

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linguistic and knowledge systems, which are connected in complex ways. This view challenges the narrow notions of “Standard English”, which are mindlessly promoted in the name of delivery, quality and efficiency, mainly to enhance marketplace concerns, but which ignore the broad ideals of education to promote empowerment and understanding. A narrow grasp of the function of language does not correspond with the ideals of internationalisation, nor with the sociocultural aspirations and needs of multilingual agents, the values of parity and the representation of knowledge and cultural production and those of global citizenship. At the intersections, the borderlands, penumbras of global contact, plurilingual dialogue and communication need to be seriously engaged for learning and for knowing. Yet, these possibilities are not fully considered in internationalisation which then leads to the perpetuation of symbolic violence of “the other”. Global learning informed by this exploratory concept of PluriEnglish(es) may help make a possible contribution to equitable learning, knowing and teaching in higher education and society.

References Aghaei, K., Koo, Y. L. & Mohd, N. (2012). Sustainable language and literacy learning: A critical trace in English language education. English Language Teaching, 5(6), 54-59. Bakhtin, M. M. (1981). The dialogic imagination: Four essays (M. Holquist, Trans.). Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. —. (1986). Speech genres and other late essays (V. W. McGee, Trans.). Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Bartell, M. (2003). Internationalization of universities: A university culture-based framework. Higher Education, 45(1), 43-70. Blommaert, J. & Verschueren, J. (1998). The role of language in European nationalist ideologies. In B. B. Schieffelin, K. A. Woolard, & P. V. Kroskrity (Eds.), Language ideologies: Practice and theory, 189–210. New York: Oxford University Press. Blum, A. & Johnson, E. J. (2012). Reading repression: Textualizing the linguistic marginalization of non-native English speaking teachers in Arizona. Journal of Language, Identity, and Education, 11(3), 167184. Breiteneder, A. (2005). The naturalness of English as a European lingua franca: The case of the “third person-s”. Vienna English Working Papers, 14(2), 3–26.

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DIRECT INSTRUCTION FOR “AT-RISK CHILDREN” AND THE AUSTRALIAN CURRICULUM: TOWARD A BETTER UNDERSTANDING OF THE APPEAL OF BEHAVIOURISM IN CROSS-CULTURAL CONTEXTS OF LEARNING ANIA LIAN, AMY NORMAN, KATH MIDGLEY AND CINDY NAPIZA CHARLES DARWIN UNIVERSITY, AUSTRALIA

Abstract Currently, education policies in many countries around the world are driven by the needs of the “knowledge society”, a term used to capture the focus on creative and critical thinking skills and dispositions which describe 21st-century learning goals. However, when considering the international predilection for predetermined knowledge standards, results can elicit anxiety for governments. In response to these pressures, in some countries education implements prescriptive models of pedagogy which mould and control the learning of children and youths. This chapter engages critically with the teaching method called Direct Instruction, which has been described as being a tightly prescribed program and appropriate to improve learning outcomes in primary schools across rural and remote areas of Australia (Wilson, 2014). The critique examines Direct Instruction in relation to the Australian Curriculum (ACARA, 2014a) and discusses implications for teacher training and research. In the light of this discussion, the chapter examines examples of issues concerning the implementation of Direct Instruction in the Northern Territory of Australia. The chapter concludes by discussing the threads that it

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identifies as prevalent in education as a whole, which make it difficult for the field to take a strong stand regarding the implementation of Direct Instruction.

The Appeal of Direct Instruction The generic term direct instruction refers to the explicit teaching of skill sets and describes instruction models which comprise several structured and sequential steps designed to result in the explicit knowledge of those skills (Luke, 2013, p. 1). The basic elements of direct instruction models include presentation of material, explanation and reinforcement (Huitt, Monetti & Hummel, 2009; Riddle, 2014). In Australia, the proper name Direct Instruction is affiliated with an instructional approach and curriculum materials developed by Siegfried Englemann and Carl Bereiter in the late 1960s that draw on behaviourist stimulus/response/conditioning theory developed by B. F. Skinner (Luke, 2013, p. 1). The approach involves a stepǦbyǦstep, lessonǦbyǦlesson approach to instruction that “follows a preǦdetermined skill acquisition sequence administered to students placed in ability/achievement groups” (Luke, 2013, p. 1). This method is recently experiencing a new phase of renewal. Numerous media and government reports are peppered with positive comments regarding Direct Instruction. The arguments presented in the media feed political expectations regarding the promise of this method to enhance student achievement and to reduce the low rates of school attendance. Interestingly, most of the hopes linked to Direct Instruction are oriented toward “saving” schools in remote areas of North Queensland and the Northern Territory. Forging the renewed interest in Direct Instruction is a report by Coughlin (2011), which details the application of the Direct Instruction method in two schools, at Arukun and Coen in Cape York, Queensland. This report illustrates the effectiveness of Direct Instruction. The data provided in the report is interpreted to show strong evidence for Direct Instruction as accelerating student achievement. Because of this luminous report and growing media interest, in 2014, the Federal Education Minister, Christopher Pyne, has promised to provide financial support for the introduction of Direct Instruction across the Northern Territory, Western Australia and Queensland amounting to $22 million. However, in July 2014, one of Australia's most respected Aboriginal educators, Dr. Chris Sarra, said that the Commonwealth was on

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the verge of making a long-lasting and expensive mistake by funding Direct Instruction: If we are going to be in a circumstance where we are going to talk about evidence-based policy, the evidence is suggesting that this [i.e. Direct Instruction] is not good. It doesn't make sense to me why you would throw another $22 million to roll this out. (as cited in Terzon, 2015)

Dr. Chris Sarra also added that an $8 million trial of the Direct Instruction program on fewer than 400 students in Cape York showed that other remote schools were getting better results on national tests (Terzon, 2015). This objection was echoed by other political figures, such as Senator Penny Wright, who indicated that the announcement of a $22 million grant for a Direct Instruction program to improve literacy outcomes for remote Indigenous children should be regarded with caution (Riddle, 2014). In view of these voices of critique as well as support, this chapter reviews briefly the principles which inform Direct Instruction from the perspective of the link it creates with the Australian Curriculum (ACARA, 2014a), its impact on research and teacher education, and implications for the Northern Territory context. Understanding these links is important especially when considering the recent push for stronger quality assurance in teacher education and research (Australian Government, DET, 2015).

Direct Instruction and the Australian Curriculum The history of Direct Instruction dates back to the time of behaviourism. In a recent posting on the blog of the Australian Association of Research in Education, Luke (2014) described Direct Instruction as being affiliated with an approach developed in the late 1960s and consisting of packaged, programmed instructional models, initially in what they consider to be reading and numeracy, and later expanding to other curriculum areas. The method is distinct in its step-by-step, lesson-by-lesson approach to teaching that is heavily scripted following arbitrarily constructed scales of difficulty. What the teachers say and do is prescribed and accompanied by a pre-specified system of rewards. Teachers also receive rigorous training and a directive teachers’ guidebook. The strict scripting of teacher behaviour is an attempt to impose quality control on the delivery of the subject matter. Siegfried Engelmann was known in the 1960s as the face and founder of Direct Instruction. His contribution to this approach includes developing

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its framework based on John Stuart Mill’s (1874) Theory of Logic, which he uses to give the method theoretical credentials despite Mill’s claim that his model did not apply to education. However, following Mill’s science, Engelmann and Carnine (1991) postulate that instructional tasks can be organised in a way that supports only one interpretation. Engelmann and Carnine (1991) state that Direct Instruction is based on the psychological principle that all students are born as “blank slates” and that with carefully designed content (based on what they term “generalisations of knowledge”) systematically presented to the student, they can learn various skills and understandings with speed. The controversy which this teaching model generates is reflected in the mixed findings regarding its effectiveness. A complete critical review of the methods of those studies is beyond the scope of this chapter. However, longitudinal studies conducted in the 1960s and 1970s showed positive outcomes for Direct Instruction predominantly on achievement tests of subject-matter specific content and far worse outcomes for social and emotional development over a long period of time (Schweinhart, Weikart, & Larner, 1986). Schweinhart and Weikart (1997) demonstrated the superiority over Direct Instruction of methods which specifically focused on social problem solving and planning. In the context of early childhood education, much of the research that followed compared more childcentered to more didactic practices. Overall, the results showed a preference for less top-down methods in preschool, suggesting that methods with a greater emphasis on academic content are less optimal for children’s social and emotional development (Hirsh-Pasek, Hyson & Rescorla, 1990; Marcon, 1999, 2002). However, as the debate over the place of Direct Instruction in Australian schools continues to gain momentum, the analysis which follows examines how the approach conceptualises the students and their role in the learning process in relation to the requirements of the Australian Curriculum (ACARA, 2014a). The curriculum is a contract between the government and the Australian public; it is produced in consultation with stakeholders and it orients research and pedagogic training. The Australian Curriculum (ACARA, 2014a) has a three-layer structure. At the top level, the cross-curriculum priorities (ACARA, 2014b) articulate the context of all learning engagements. Briefly, the priorities illustrate the community orientation of the entire curriculum and the recognition that all learning is to (a) acknowledge and integrate the knowledge of the history and cultures of the Aboriginal people and Torres

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Strait Islanders; (b) build links with, and the knowledge of, the engagements between Australia and its Asian neighbours; and (c) create engagements which support the sustainability of ecological, social and economic systems. The General Capabilities of the Australian Curriculum (ACARA, 2014c) provide educators with statements describing a range of skills and dispositions which are necessary for students to engage at depth with the cross-curriculum priorities. These include Personal and Social Capabilities, Ethical and Intercultural Capabilities, Critical and Creative Thinking Capabilities, as well as ICT skills, numeracy and literacy (ACARA, 2014c). Finally, the Australian Curriculum specifies learning objectives for each subject and year. Overall, the Australian Curriculum is an integrated framework where the subject-specific outcomes are embedded in the entire structure of the curriculum. The curriculum reflects a learning context where students engage meaningfully, ethically, and critically, using skills and dispositions which support their creative participation and understanding of the global and local contexts, and do so with people and for people. This modern outlook on learning and the students is in stark contrast to the behaviouristic world of Direct Instruction devised by Engelmann and Carnine (1991). While today some argue that there is a difference between the Direct Instruction of the 1960s and how it is practised today (Dow, 2011, p. 55), this brief review of the core principles of the method as it was first established offers arguments for further reflection and consideration. In Engelmann and Carnine (1991, p. 9) Direct Instruction identifies “correct presentation of information” as the key to students’ learning. Direct Instruction, therefore, places the emphasis on content and its sequencing. In contrast, the Australian Curriculum (ACARA, 2014a) focuses on students’ participation, which is to be supported and measured in relation to their capacity to engage local and global knowledge and communities in order to “make an important contribution to building the social, intellectual and creative capital of our nation”. This difference in focus is reflected in the kinds of objectives which Direct Instruction identifies as learning success, as opposed to the Australian Curriculum. The first principle of this “correct presentation of information” is that students learn from “positive examples”, “faultless stimuli” and, in order to reinforce the correct model, they may need to be presented with a “nonexample”, i.e. a model that does not have the property which makes it an example (Engelmann & Carnine, 1991, p. 3). This reasoning suggests that

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children (people) perceive reality directly and that there is no need for accounting for students’ subjective interpretations which may interact with learning. Birdwhistell (1970) describes this approach as reflecting a cybernetic concept of knowledge, where the process of meaningconstruction involves storage and retrieval of pure information, organised in terms of relationships which are free from the prescriptive and evaluative statements of their programmer. In this cybernetic view, the assumption is that the brain is a naturally good producer of logical thoughts composed of words with precise meanings which it emits under proper stimulation (Birdwhistell 1970, p. 66). That is, good, clean, logical, rational, denotative, semantically correct utterances are emitted out of the head if the membrane between mind and the body efficiently separates this area of the body from that which produces the bad, dirty, illogical, irrational, connotative, and semantically confusing adulterants. Good communication thus takes place if the unadulterated message enters the ear of the receiver and goes through a clean pipe into an aseptic brain. (Birdwhistell 1970, p. 66)

Arguments such as references to descriptive linguistics, the assertion that “it works” and any other simple explanations that Engelmann and Carnine provide (1991) are insufficient for use as evidence, especially in a context where children’s emotional, social and cognitive development depends on getting it right. Sixty years after the initial model of Direct Instruction was proposed, it is now well-known that comprehension is least about structure recognition and form matching. It is not even a process of construction (Wertsch, 1991). Recent studies with patients with amnesia show that comprehension is a reconstructive process which depends on “the ability to flexibly recombine stored information in novel ways” that “allows humans to be limitlessly creative and inventive” (Hassabis & Maguire, 2009, p. 1269). This recognition of creativity as the underlying conditions of comprehension (meaning-making) is absent in Direct Instruction, but it is present in the Australian Curriculum and its General Capabilities (ACARA, 2014c). Furthermore, it is also well-known know that children are born with about 100 billion brain cells, or neurons. As Walsh (2011) explains, “Each of these has an average of ten thousand branches. This means that the possible number of connections in a new-born baby’s brain is one quadrillion!”. He also adds that only 17% of these neurons are wired and a child’s experience will be the key factor in determining how many of these neurons will be connected and which ones will eventually wither back and die. Considering the potential of the brains of children, it is hard to see

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how an impoverished, tightly controlled and arbitrary input (i.e. not selected by children in relation to their lived experiences) would be appropriate to make maximal use of the billions of neurons available. How the brain will change its neural connections depends on the environment. Factors such as timing, complexity and purpose do matter: “the neurons that fire together, wire together” (Miller-Karas, 2015, p. 15). However, there is no evidence that would say what exactly should be wired together and in what sequence. This leaves the sequence proposed by Direction Instruction with nothing to hang on to. Instead, it has been shown that environments which are rich in information and opportunities for play support healthy brain development (Miller-Karas, 2015, p. 15). Furthermore, studies in neuroscience show that for sensory processes to develop appropriately, it is necessary that all sensory systems are engaged together. Otherwise, the brain learns to “do without” and the “windows of opportunity” shut (Walsh & Walsh, 2004, p. 38). From the perspective of the curriculum, the focus on control and structured presentation of the learning content impacts on the approach that Direct Instruction takes to higher order thinking skills. For example, a study conducted by Engelmann (2004) in 1964 sought to identify the relevance of socioeconomic status in student learning. It focused on preschool children and aimed to demonstrate how they could be taught complex personal and social skills. The results indicated differences in student selfefficacy dependent on the socioeconomic group. It was assumed that the study demonstrated that when students are with their “equals” who share their capabilities, they will be more likely to form a personal identity of being successful and motivated: Students’ self-images were shaped by evidence of their performance. The study unintentionally demonstrates the cruelty of lower performers placed in heterogeneous groups dominated by higher performers. The lower performers received ongoing demonstrations of how inept they are. When both instruction and the other members of the group are at their level, they receive far more information about their competence rather than their incompetence. They therefore enjoy lessons more and have stronger motivation to learn the material. (Engelmann, 2004, p. 94)

Arguably, since the study did not challenge its assumptions about the factors which interact with learning, the results say more about the problems of the approach than about the students in question. For example, the fact that the method does not accommodate differences in students’ needs and, instead, segregates students according to some

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uncritically established indicators of success is a problem. Furthermore, the idea that the score is a sufficiently powerful measure of one’s degree of self-efficacy and social value is troubling. It also does not allow the students to understand their peers as anything more than persons who are in their ability group or outside the group. Additionally, the community is missing from the model as a context where students learn to understand themselves, their actions and how their actions affect others. This absence of the local and broader community as a context of students’ engagements and learning makes concepts such as diversity and intercultural and ethical skills and dispositions invisible, if not irrelevant. While the idea of managing differences and conflict is mentioned as conducive to learning (Engelmann, n.d.), this is seen as external to the approach and the responsibility of the teachers and the school. In turn, in the Australian Curriculum (ACARA, 2014a), the Ethical and Intercultural Capabilities emphasise the requirement for the students to reflect upon human nature, culture and their identity in order to live full lives and to learn to manage conflict effectively. In the Direct Instruction approach, interactions between anyone other than teacher and student are kept to a minimum in order to stick to the script of the lessons. Luke (2014) too acknowledges the detrimental impact of Direct Instruction on students’ cultural development and describes the approach as “plac[ing] the teacher and child in a rigid relationship where the teacher is always the one with the power and knowledge with limited allowance or recognition of individual and cultural difference”. In the context of Indigenous learning in schools in Canada, which adopted scripted, packaged models, he says, “researchers found that curriculum foci on Indigenous culture, issues and languages declined as part of a more general narrowing of the curriculum” (Luke 2014). In Direct Instruction, with the students’ personal, social, ethical and cultural skills and dispositions taking a backseat to the preoccupation of the method with its content and rules of learning, critical thinking, as the capability to draw on self-knowledge and cultural awareness, is also sacrificed. Engelmann (2004, p. 2) refers to critical thinking as complex, abstract reasoning that students can learn “if the learning is broken down into manageable parts and taught using Direct Instruction principles”. This definition lacks a community basis and, instead, locates critical thinking in a vacuum, with impact measured in terms which neither acknowledge nor recognise the community as a contributing source and context of knowledge production. These points are evident in the methodology and in

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the claims that Engelmann makes in the context of his 1964 preschool study. In that study, Engelmann suggested that when using Direct Instruction, children could be taught complex higher order skills regardless of their age or stage in terms of development. He demonstrated this by teaching two groups of preschool students how to solve an abstract reasoning puzzle with a “generalisation of the rule technique” which he later trademarked to become the basis of every Direct Instruction program (Engelmann, 2004, p. 52). He broke down a specific abstract reasoning puzzle about a person touching a painted seesaw (p. 10). In the experiment, he taught each “part” of the puzzle to the preschoolers using Direct Instruction methods. Engelmann (2004, p. 90) demonstrated that after a sufficient number of lessons some of the students could solve the wet paint seesaw puzzle unaided, proving their ability to reason abstractly beyond their age and developmental stage as described by Piaget. Therefore, according to Engelmann, in principle, abstract reasoning is a set of skills being used in combination and these skills can be taught if information is presented correctly. In relation to the Australian Curriculum (ACARA, 2014a), it is not so much important whether the rules taught by Direct Instruction are correct. Rather, the problem is whether they comply with the curriculum. It follows that while some of the sentiments of Direct Instruction may resonate with a number of educators or politicians, the key issue is to explore the relationship between those sentiments and the requirements of the curriculum before money is spent on research which, again, might be seen, as many other studies have been (McWilliam & Lee, 2006), as lacking a framework and sufficient integrity to provide the government with any firm direction. Furthermore, the Australian Curriculum (ACARA, 2014a) is not alone in emphasising the relevance of the larger context of student learning and development. Over the last two decades, new developments in neuroscience have allowed its researchers to re-examine some of the longstanding truths, beliefs and diagrams that educators (and psychologists) have been living by. For example, current concerns of the curriculum with student well-being as opportunities for students to selfactualise, relate to others while also being able to exercise a fair degree of autonomy and control, align with the findings of this research and challenge old beliefs where these higher order cognitive and emotional

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states were seen as secondary to more basic human needs, such as the need for water, air or food (Maslow, 1943). Today we know that the brain registers rejection the same way as it registers physical pain (Rock, 2009). Our thoughts and emotions are two aspects of the same process: how we feel affects the signals the brain sends to the body in order to generate an appropriate protective response. In short, how we feel influences how we think, which then impacts on our physiology and our general disposition. The understanding that “we feel therefore we are” (Damasio & Immordino-Yang, 2007) summarises the gist of this analysis of Direct Instruction: students’ achievement will depend on the extent to which learning environments facilitate their basic need for being present in the classroom and, most of all, in the process of their learning. This active presence of students is the key element missing in Direct Instruction. It includes the entire set of factors which impact on, and interact with, the intentions and the dispositions which motivate the students.

Research and Teacher Training The challenge of any pedagogic model, be it Direct Instruction, phonics, Accelerated Literacy or any other approach, is to remain open to new developments and discoveries. Considering the ground-breaking insights which emerge from fields such as philosophy of scientific inquiry, sociology, semiotics, biology, neuroscience or even mathematics and physics, it would seem that the field of education should be on the lookout for new ideas and intellectual breakthroughs, thus keeping the field abreast of these developments and enabling it to offer new dimensions and perspectives to these fields. Instead, another picture is emerging. For example, it is neuroscience that is branching out to education, with new areas of research developing which include literacy, mathematics, music, consciousness, memory and learning, neuroplasticity and learning difficulties, games, play, mindfulness and learning; the list is growing. It is obvious that neuroscientists cannot embrace all the work done thus far in education. It follows that opportunities for new collaborations and developments are opening up and need to be embraced for the field not to implode. Furthermore, the debates regarding Direct Instruction, like any other time when a paradigm sought to position itself as the answer to all problems, are a wonderful opportunity to re-state our own purpose as educators and

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education researchers. At very least, this task should include questions such as, “What is our job as teachers/educators?” and “What is the students’ job?” As suggested above, our job as teachers and educators is to be open to learning. A pedagogy which is closed, where the students are framed as objects of scientific gaze (discourse), has long been established as unable to take a critical stand to itself. Such pedagogies, to paraphrase Latour (2004a), like a person, are uninteresting, shallow, superficial, unable to resonate with others, unaffected, and unable to be put into motion by new entities. The opposite occurs when the field is involved in the creation of rich articulations between different and conflicting perspectives. It becomes interesting, deep, profound, and worthwhile when it challenges what it knows and explores new opportunities. It is a field that Giroux (1988, p. 47) argues for, where teachers are not reduced to carrying out predetermined content and instructional procedures, but where they are thoughtfully engaged intellectually; “the principles underlying management pedagogies are at odds with the premise that teachers should be actively involved in producing curricular materials suited to the cultural and social contexts in which they teach”.

The Northern Territory Context In 2013, the Northern Territory Government conducted a review of Indigenous education and concluded that there is a “drastic failure” (Wilson 2014, p. 109) in educational outcomes for Indigenous students. A recommendation of the review was for Direct Instruction to be explored for implementation in some high priority remote schools. Targeted schools cater for students with English as a second or third language. Since 2009, in a somewhat similar context, Noel Pearson, Aboriginal Australian lawyer, academic, and land rights activist, has embarked in Cape York on an ambitious strategy to enhance the quality of education for students in this region through the establishment of the Cape York Aboriginal Australian Academy (CYAAA). Pearson (2009) has worked closely with communities to develop a mix of social responsibility packages dovetailed with a simplified school structure encompassing three educational domains: basic skills (Class), cultural capital (Club), and traditional culture and language (Culture) (Dow, 2011, p. 54). The basic skills include reading, writing, spelling and mathematics and are delivered through Direct Instruction, “an extremely prescriptive and behaviourist

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approach to teaching” (McCollow, 2013, p. 103). Culture is to enable Cape York children to become literate in their own culture and languages. Together, the Class and Culture domains are planned so as to make parallel English and local language development possible from early childhood (Pearson, 2009, p. 71). Club includes activities such as sports, music, IT and recreational reading (McCollow 2013, p. 101). Reports indicate that students value these domains in spite of an extended day to accommodate activities (McCollow, 2013). There is some disquiet at the implementation strategy for Direct Instruction in the Northern Territory, and it is unclear what role Indigenous languages will play in the approach. Although the CYAAA example has been the motivation for reform in remote Territory schools, the discourse around broad quality of life impacts of the implementation plan is not as yet articulated. Wilson’s (2014, p. 126) report has made note of the “troubled history in the NT of rapid large-scale rollout of programs without adequate planning or preparation” and recommends careful research into positive impacts of Direct Instruction on national test results, development of local expertise and determination of the costs and optimal timing of implementation before a large-scale rollout. Aspects of this quality control will include the capacity of the program to promote Indigenous wellbeing and strengthen pride in identity and culture, with languages being seen as both an expression of culture and the vehicle through which culture is kept alive. It is not clear how Direct Instruction allows for these considerations to be addressed. The critique in the sections above showed that Direct Instruction sees diversity as a problem and combats it in a number of ways, including its concept of “ability student groups”. Typically, as reflected in the quality assurance standards defined by the Australian National Professional Standards for Teachers, it is the teachers who are made responsible for the cultural diversity aspects of school curricula. Teachers are required to demonstrate the capacity to have the “knowledge of teaching strategies that are responsive to the learning strengths and needs of students from diverse linguistic, cultural, religious and socioeconomic backgrounds” (Perso, 2012, p. 2). They are also required to have “broad knowledge and understanding of the impact of culture, cultural identity and linguistic background on the education of students from Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander backgrounds” (Perso, 2012, p. 2). It is expected by the Council of Australian Governments (COAG) that this work is solely the responsibility of individual teachers, also supported and developed by national and state education authorities.

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However, since the task of integrating the General Capabilities of the Australian Curriculum (ACARA, 2014c) is not pedagogy-free, does this mean that teacher education programs should abandon all they know and train pre-service teachers in Direct Instruction? The role of teachers needs to be clarified, as well as the role of the broader community. At present, for Pearson (2009), a steadfast adherence to Direct Instruction helps minimise teacher variation as much as possible in order for the students to consistently understand the messages being taught. Not everyone agrees. Ewing (2011, p. 85) shows that in the context of teaching mathematics, it is not only teachers that are silenced, but the students too, as “[k]nowledge acquisition is thought to be ensured by pen-and-paper testing” and the approach “is strongly associated with student nonparticipation and disengagement”. Ewing also expresses her concern that this kind of approach will fail Indigenous students, as “they are highly likely to disengage from the subject because the combined effects of its practices work to exclude them” (p. 85). Participatory learning and engagement also transpire in the recommendations by Skutnabb-Kangas and Dunbar (2010, pp. 101-103) who stress the relevance of multilingualism and the importance of the mother-tongue as the main language of education at least in the early years of study. Research informing the Closing the Gap (DRA, 2015) initiatives outlines the improved protective social-emotional and educational benefits for children connected to language and culture. It appears that the government is in two minds when considering the best way forward for improving the educational outcomes for the students in the remote schools of the Northern Territory. As argued by Silburn, Nutton, McKenzie and Landregan (2011), if the children are to benefit from a vibrant education that places them confidently in the globalised twenty-first century, the Australian and Northern Territory governments will need a solid long-term plan to commit substantial funds to education and training, particularly in developing a more coherent approach to Indigenous education, including language expertise.

Conclusion The ongoing debate over the rights and wrongs of Direct Instruction is only a symptom of a larger problem in education that this chapter sought to illustrate. McKew’s (2014) recent book, Class act: Ending the education wars, where she explores Australian schools that are seen to

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have a positive impact on student learning, offers a context for the chapter to summarise its points. In the book, McKew (2014, p. 34) quotes the principal from Roseworth Primary School, Perth, who says that he has been in education long enough to reject the absolutes and go with a mix of what works: “At Roseworth that means a combination of explicit teaching – old-fashioned skill and drill – and a range of collaborative activities where children practice what they have learnt”. This description, when viewed against the background of the discussions held in Queensland and the Northern Territory regarding the value of Direct Instruction, reveals a number of threads that are very present in educational discourses and, as a result, in the politics of education. First, it is a generally-held belief that everyone is “a little bit right” while no one is fully right. In early literacy education, this is known as a balanced approach to learning. A balanced approach recognises that learning models are all part of a larger repertoire of teaching strategies to deliver effective literacy programs. However, a variety of techniques alone is not a warranty that the learning processes that they support actually do serve the students. In other words, the belief that a repertoire of seemingly diverse strategies will safeguard education from being hijacked by a single approach may well be the very cause which prevents the field from examining the relevance of these strategies to students’ learning. This unwillingness to critically address what by now seem to be the pillars of literacy teaching may mean that, rather than securing plurality, the field may well be securing its own intellectual stagnation. This is already happening as educators find themselves unable to respond with a strong voice to arguments which, as in the case of Direct Instruction, frame educational challenges and solutions by “peering relentlessly into a rear view mirror” (Robinson, 2011, p. 22). Yet, in Robinson’s words, “To do so, we would be out of our minds” (p. 22). Thus, to follow on from the above point, it is worth reviewing whether the seemingly safe phonics or even the whole-language approach, all invented decades ago, are indeed what they are believed to be. As suggested in this chapter, in order to better understand the claims of these methods, it is necessary to examine the belief systems on which they build, in relation to cross-disciplinary frameworks. The process will ensure that the “evidence” which they construct is critically informed, the terms are clarified and the ability of these methods to support students’ learning needs is theoretically

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explained. Furthermore, the concept of students’ learning needs also requires clarification as, frequently, it is used to refer to teaching objectives, not the (processing) needs that emerge from a student’s interaction with a learning task at hand. These are two very different takes on this concept. Second, another idea that is becoming prominent in education is the belief that evidence of quality is to come from data. The numerous qualitative studies conducted thus far are now under attack and hope has shifted to big numbers (Buckingham, 2005). The tensions between the small and large data, when evoked, rarely address the point made by Latour (2004a, 2004b) in the field of philosophy of scientific inquiry or by Candlin (1990, p. 479) in applied linguistics that the data do not speak, the researchers do. Thus, the key question is not what the data say, but how researchers frame their own role in their studies and therefore their relationship to the data to which they then attribute voice. In the case of Direct Instruction, no amount of data will make it speak for itself. Furthermore, it may be that a well-formulated study, with clearly articulated links to the Australian Curriculum (ACARA, 2014a), may render experimental work in Direct Instruction irrelevant altogether. It follows that any experimental research in education must begin with a critical examination of its “voices” and the manner by which it renders “talkative what was until then mute” (Latour, 2004a, p. 217). A methodology of this kind focuses studies on the frameworks in relation to which they gather evidence to make data speak. This is very different from looking for a message in the data. Third, McWilliam and Lee (2006, p. 43) argue that “with all the problems that might be identified that pertain to educational research and to faculties of education, the most significant might well be a failure of research imagination”. Education concerns itself with meaning-making, and there is no single field that holds the hegemony on this concept. An exploration of the range of insights that different fields may offer will result in boundless opportunities. While it may be comfortable to find one’s niche and work within the closed boundaries of its parameters, resigning ourselves to a single set of techniques, a single answer, would be to believe we have come to the end of the road, that we have “painted the ultimate painting” and that all we have to do for the rest of our existence is to point to it. This would also be in stark contrast with a world that is information-rich, crossdisciplinary and increasingly connected, thus providing astounding opportunities for dialogue and knowledge expansion.

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The point of this chapter was to show that opportunities are endless and that education does not have to sit and watch how the decision to implement Direct Instruction in Northern Territory schools will progress. Critical theoretical work, informed by a dialogue with teachers and colleagues from traditional and new disciplines, should allow the field to assess the approach and provide politicians and parents with sound advice on Direct Instruction.

References ACARA (Australian Curriculum Assessment and Reporting Authority). (2014a). Australian Curriculum. Retrieved November 2, 2015 from: http://www.australiancurriculum.edu.au. —. (2014b). Cross-curriculum priorities. Australian Curriculum. Retrieved November 2, 2015 from: http://www.australiancurriculum.edu.au/crosscurriculumpriorities/over view/introduction. —. (2014c). General Capabilities. Australian Curriculum. Retrieved November 22, 2014 from: http://www.australiancurriculum.edu.au/generalcapabilities/overview/g eneral-capabilities-in-the-australian-curriculum. Australian Government, DET (Department of Education & Training). (2015). Government’s response to the TEMAG’s Action Now. Retrieved July 27, 2015 from: http://www.studentsfirst.gov.au/teachereducation-ministerial-advisory-group. Birdwhistell, R. (1970). Kinesics and context. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Buckingham, J. (2005, February 18). The problem with educational research. The Australian, 18. Candlin, C. N. (1990). What happens when applied linguistics goes critical? In M. A. K. Halliday, J. Gibbons & H. Nicholas (Eds.), Learning, keeping and using languages, 461-486. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Coughlin, C. (2011). The Impact of Direct Instruction implementation on the reading achievement of Cape York Australian Aboriginal Academy Students: A First Year analysis. Technical report. Cape York Aboriginal Australian Academy. Damasio, A. & Immordino-Yang, H. (2007). We feel, therefore we learn: The relevance of affective and social neuroscience to education, International Mind, Brain, and Education Society, 1(1), 3-10. doi:10.1111/j.1751-228X.2007.00004.x.

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Dow, L. (2011). Spiders are mammals: Direct Instruction in Cape York. Literacy Numeracy Studies, 19(1), 50-65. DRA (Department of Regional Australia). (2015). Closing the gap. Retrieved July 27, 2015 from: http://arts.gov.au/sites/default/files/indigenous/closing-the-gap/ICCGfactsheet-20130115.pdf. Engelmann, S. (n.d.) Achieving a full-school, full-immersion implementation of Direct Instruction. Retrieved November 21, 2014 from: http://www.nifdi.org/pdfs/Dev_Guide.pdf. —. (2004). Comparative preschool study: High and low socioeconomic preschoolers learning advanced cognitive skills. Retrieved November 21, 2014 from: http://www.zigsite.com/PDFs/CompPreschool.pdf. Engelmann, S. & Carnine, D. (1991). Theory of instruction: Principles and applications. Eugene, OR: ADI Press. Ewing, B. (2011). Direct Instruction in mathematics: Issues for schools with high indigenous enrolments. A Literature Review. Australian Journal of Teacher Education, 36, 65-92. Giroux, H. (1988). Teachers as intellectuals: Toward a critical pedagogy of learning. (Critical Studies in Education Series). Granby, MA: Bergin & Garvey. Hassabis, D. & Maguire E. A. (2009). The construction system of the brain. Philosophical Transactions: Biological Sciences, 364(1521), 1263-12. Hirsh-Pasek, K., Hyson, M. C. & Rescorla, L. (1990). Academic environments in preschool: Do they pressure or challenge young children? Early Education and Development, 1(6), 401–423. Huitt, W., Monetti, D. & Hummel, J. (2009). Designing Direct Instruction. Prepublication version of chapter published in C. Reigeluth & A. CarrChellman (Eds.), Instructional design theories and models: Volume III, Building a common knowledgebase, 73-97. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Retrieved November 4, 2015 from: http://www.edpsycinteractive.org/papers/designing-directinstruction.pdf. Latour, B. (2004a). How to talk about the body. The normative dimension of science studies. Body & Society, 10(2–3), 205–229. Retrieved March 22, 2016 from: http://bruno-latour.fr/sites/default/files/77BODY-NORMATIVE-BS-GB.pdf. —. (2004b). A dialog on Actor Network Theory with a (somewhat) Socratic professor. In C. Avgerou, C. Ciborra & F. F. Land (Eds.), The social study of information and communication study, 62-76. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Retrieved July 2, 2015 from:

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http://www.bruno-latour.fr/sites/default/files/90-ANT-DIALOG-LSEGB.pdf. Luke, A. (2013). On explicit and direct instruction. [An abridged version of this article appeared as Luke, A. (2013). Back to the future. The Australian Educator, Summer(80), 14-15]. Retrieved July 2, 2016 from: http://eprints.qut.edu.au/63824/1/explicit.pdf. —. (2014, July 7). Direct Instruction is not a solution for Australian schools. EduResearch Matters. Australian Association for Research in Education. Retrieved November 2, 2014 from: http://www.aare.edu.au/blog/?p=439. Marcon, R. (1999). Differential impact of preschool models on development and learning of inner-city children: A three cohort study. Developmental Psychology, 35(2), 358–375. —. (2002). Moving up the grades: Relationship between preschool model and later school success. Early Childhood Research and Practice, 4(1). Retrieved February 21, 2016, from: http://ecrp.uiuc.edu/v4n1/marcon.html. Maslow, A. H. (1943). A theory of human motivation. Psychological Review, 50(4), 370-96. McColow, J. (2013). A controversial reform in indigenous education: The Cape York Aboriginal Australian Academy. The Australian Journal of Indigenous Education, 41(2), 97-109. McKew, M. (2014). Class act: Ending the education wars. Carlton, Vic.: Melbourne University Publishing. McWilliam, E. L. & Lee, A. (2006). The problem of “the problem with educational research”. The Australian Educational Researcher, 33(2), 43-60. Mills, J. S. (1874). A system of logic. New York: Harper & Brothers. Miller-Karas, E. (2015). Building resilience to trauma: The trauma and community resiliency models. New York: Routledge. Pearson, N. (2009). Radical hope: Education and equality in Australia. Quarterly Essay, 35, 1832-0953. Perso, T. (2012). Cultural competence and National Professional Standards for Teachers. Occasional paper 127. East Melbourne, Vic.: Centre for Strategic Education. Riddle, S. (2014, July 2). Re: ‘Biggest loser’ policy on literacy will not deliver long-term gains. The Conversation. Retrieved July 2, 2014 from: http://theconversation.com/biggest-loser-policy-on-literacy-willnot-deliver-long-term-gains-28649. Robinson, K. (2011). Out of our minds: Learning to be creative. West Sussex, UK: Capstone Publishing.

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Rock, D. (2009). Managing with the brain: Neuroscience research is revealing the social nature of the high-performance workplace. Strategy + Business, 56, 1-11. Retrieved July 22, 2015 from: http://www.strategy-business.com/article/09306?gko=5df7f. Schweinhart, L. J. & Weikart, D. P. (1997). The High/Scope preschool curriculum comparison study through age 23. Early Childhood Research Quarterly, 12(2), 117–143. Schweinhart, L. J., Weikart, D. P. & Larner, M. B. (1986). Consequences of three preschool curriculum models through age fifteen. Early Childhood Research Quarterly, 1(1), 15–46. Silburn, S. R., Nutton, G. D., McKenzie, J. W. & Landregan, M. (2011). Early years English language acquisition and instructional approaches for Aboriginal students with home languages other than English: A systemic review of the Australian and international literature. Darwin NT: The Centre for Child Development and Education, Menzies School of Health Research. Skutnabb-Kangas, T. & Dunbar, R. (2010). Indigenous children's education as linguistic genocide and a crime against humanity? A global view. (Gáldu ýála: Journal Of Indigenous Peoples Rightsտ , 1/2010.) Retrieved April 25, 2016 from: http://www.afn.ca/uploads/files/education2/indigenouschildrenseducati on.pdf. Terzon, E. (2015). Remote Peppimenarti Indigenous school looks to Direct Instruction trial to solve literacy gap. ABC News. Retrieved June 22, 2016 from: http://www.abc.net.au/news/2015-05-13/peppimenarti-school-newteaching-model/6466036. Walsh, D. (2011, May 19). Experience counts: Development of the brain ņ Part 1. [Web log post]. Retrieved July 21, 2015 from: http://drdavewalsh.com/posts/57. Walsh, D. & Walsh, E. (2004). Why do they act that way? A survival guide to the adolescent brain for you and your teen. Atria Books. Wertsch, J. V. (1991). Voices of the mind. New York: Harvester. Wilson, B. (2014). A share in the future review of indigenous education in the Northern Territory: Review of Indigenous education in the Northern Territory. Retrieved July 21, 2014 from: https://www.nt.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0020/229016/A-Share-inthe-Future-The-Review-of-Indigenous-Education-in-the-NorthernTerritory.pdf.



HASTENING QUICKLY AND SLOWLY: SEEKING TO ADDRESS INDIGENOUS AUSTRALIAN LITERACY MELISSA KELAART AND SUE ERICA SMITH CHARLES DARWIN UNIVERSITY, AUSTRALIA

Abstract This chapter presents an analysis of some of the issues in Indigenous education in the Northern Territory (NT) in the early years and primary school setting contrasted with national and global dimensions in related fields of research, policy and practice. Approaches to Indigenous literacy, language and numeracy in Finland, Singapore and Japan are critically compared with the Australian models, specifically in Indigenous early years and primary education in the NT. Of particular interest are new initiatives, such as the Cape York Aboriginal Australian Academy (CYAAA) (Coughlin, 2011), the Closing the Gap report (Australian Government, 2014a) and the Review of Indigenous education in the Northern Territory (Wilson, 2014). Perennial areas of concern in Indigenous primary education include early years development, readiness for school, language development and literacy, numeracy approaches, attendance, and health and wellbeing, but these goals are invariably hampered by policy switches and lack of resourcing and flexibility to accommodate the specificities of diverse cultures.

Attempts to Close the Gap The disparity on all social indicators between Indigenous and nonIndigenous Australians is alarming, and educational achievements are no exception. According to Closing the Gap – Prime Minister’s Report 2014 (Australian Government, 2014a), the progress against some of the targets



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has not been successful and is not on track to be achieved. Targets that are school-based, such as improving attendance and halving the gap in reading, writing and numeracy levels within the decade, are failing. Only two of the eight areas from the National Assessment Program Literacy and Numeracy (NAPLAN) results have improved since 2008. Also, NAPLAN results for Indigenous students vary significantly according to locality. The gap is much wider in remote and very remote settings. The report states that in 2013, “82% of all Indigenous students in metropolitan areas met or exceeded the National Minimum Standards for Year 9 Reading compared to only 31% of Indigenous students in very remote areas” (Australian Government, 2014a, p. 10). The review of Indigenous education in the Northern Territory completed by Wilson (2014) iterates deficits revealed in the NAPLAN results. By year 3, for example, Indigenous students in very remote schools in the Northern Territory (NT) are already two years behind those in the whole of Australia in writing and by year 9 “the gap is about five years of schooling” (Wilson, 2014, p. 11). When compared with global data, the situation looks especially dire. According to the Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA), 2012 assessment results indicate that in Mathematic Literacy, “the proportion of low-performing Indigenous students (51%) was more than twice that of non-Indigenous students (18%) and the OECD average (23%)” (Thomson, DeBortoli & Buckley, 2012, p. 37). The situation is critical, and while educators need to look at global initiatives in seeking to redress these failings, they need to remain mindful of the particularities of each location. Whatever strategies are implemented, their potential for success will also depend in no small part on the cultural appropriateness particular to the needs of each diverse, remote community.

Remote and Very Remote Communities in Northern Australia There remain some perennial issues that inhibit measurable success in the education of Indigenous students in the NT. According to Wilson (2014, p. 16), there needs to be consistency, a long-term strategic framework in practice, and an evidence-based approach to implementations that are consistent with long-term goals, clear expectations of performance, and strong management. These recommendations mirror the policies and practice of what is arguably the world’s most successful education system, Finland, where the national curriculum is reviewed every 10 years. This includes developing,



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implementing and evaluating a long-term, consistent approach. A 10-year cycle “gives teachers and schools the autonomy to implement the curriculum and add to it without bureaucratic interference or interruptions from policy change” (Milburn, 2012). On the other hand, current practices in Australia have continued to suffer from too short timelines and lack of consistent approaches. None has lasted ten years.

Accommodating Needs, Localities and Global Perspectives Australia is a vast and sparsely populated country and the languages and cultures of Indigenous Australians vary significantly, even between proximate localities. Therefore, any centralised responses need to be tailored according to the particular circumstances and the specific resources required in each educational community. While principles of equity would determine that remote, high-needs schools would have access to the same standards of service delivery as urban non-Indigenous schools, the implementation comes at high fiscal costs at which state, territory and federal governments invariably balk. This means, as it will be shown, that education initiatives are invariably adopted partially, imposed, and under-resourced. And the crisis continues. Practices in other parts of the world continue to attract attention. Looking at the Finnish system and the Singapore system, schools that are in an area of high need and students with special needs are catered for in the wholeschool system with a whole-school commitment. In Singapore, specific programs that are delivered in a conducive learning environment provide learning support in mathematics and literacy: “Learning Support Programs include daily lessons with smaller groups of pupils taught by speciallytrained teachers” (Ministry of Education, Singapore, 2013, p. 6). The program is a daily occurrence to meet the needs of all students. Finland, too, demonstrates a firm commitment to equity in education in that “every pupil and student has the right to educational support” and “special needs education is generally provided in conjunction with mainstream education” (Ministry of Education and Culture, Finnish National Board of Education, CIMO, 2012, p. 7). There is an understanding of different needs, resources are delivered without locality bias, and the excellence in their student outcomes suggests that the policies are given dedicated attention within the schools. In this regard, remote Indigenous Australian schooling is falling short, including in the early years. A report dedicated to our region, the



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Overarching bilateral Indigenous plan between the Commonwealth of Australia and the Northern Territory of Australia to close the gap in Indigenous disadvantage, 2010-2015 (Australian Government, n.d., p. 19), sought to ensure that all Indigenous four-year-olds in remote communities had access to early childhood education by 2013. Reforms included: x A National Partnership Agreement on Indigenous Childhood Development – improving the outcomes of early childhood development. x A National Partnership on Early Childhood Education and related Implementation Plan of a quality education program in the year before formal schooling. x Investing in Early Years – a national early childhood development strategy to develop an effective early childhood development system by 2020 (p. 20). Initiatives that were developed through this include Families as First Teachers (FaFT), Mobile Pre-Schools, and the Australian Early Development Index (AEDI). Data from the latter continues to provide insights into how children are developing in communities across Australia and continues to inform early childhood education strategies and policies, such as the Early Years Framework. The Early Years Framework: Belonging, Being and Becoming guides early childhood teaching in the NT. Its approach focuses on five principles, including relationships, partnerships, expectations, diversity and ongoing learning. It was argued by Wilson (2014) that this framework should continue, but that it would be improved by its incorporation of more formal literacy and numeracy approaches. Using this comprehensive framework is similar to the successful Finnish approach. Wilson (2014) concluded that FaFT should be maintained in its current form pending new data from its evaluation and emphasised the imperative that access to very remote communities be ensured. It has been a successful program delivering education on child development and knowledge, health, hygiene and nutrition, parenting and family support, as well as building foundations in literacy and numeracy and school readiness through play-based activities and modelling. FaFT “builds family knowledge of early learning through active engagement in quality early childhood education programs” (DoE, NT, 2011). The Mobile Preschools pilot (Wilson, 2014, p. 133) was a bold bid to provide a professional quality preschool program, accessed on a regular basis by remote and very remote preschool children and where delivery into the communities



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ensured high levels of community engagement. Data from the AEDI (Wilson, 2014, p. 99) shows that the number of Indigenous children attending a preschool program rose from 865 in 2009 to 1078 in 2012. Alongside this program, together with the urgency to redress inequities in early learning for Indigenous children, a complementary Abecedarian Approach was imported. This approach was developed by Joseph Sparling in 1972, who has since found successes in the slums of Mexico and First Nations People of Canada. This approach has four basic pillars: language, games, reading and enriched caregiving (Marshall 2014). The elements of play, language skills and care promoted a holistic and community-engaged approach that also offered promising long-term results, both with the 80 babies studied in very remote Maningrida and Galiwin’ku, NT, and in other Indigenous communities in Western Australia and Victoria. It was a “good news” story, and The Age in Melbourne reported that the AEDI results indicated that children who have come through this program “have experienced a statistically significant reduction in vulnerability”, with higher cognitive development and general health benefits (Marshall, 2014). However, this initiative has languished, and the focus and resources have shifted towards primary school literacy and numeracy and the roll out of the prescriptive Direct Instruction program.

The Problematic of Bilingual Education An unresolved challenge in remote Indigenous education is that for many Indigenous children coming into the system, English is their second, third or fourth language. Bilingual education requires specialised skills for teachers and the system requires English competency. Students’ progress in literacy and numeracy in Australia is determined by NAPLAN results that show that Indigenous children as a group “are still not gaining the levels of English literacy that are essential for success in schooling, and equivalent to those achieved by other Australian children” (Wilson, 2014, p. 107). Clearly, this is a problem, but these normative tests themselves do not measure the individual progress made by bilingual and multilingual children. English as the lingua franca is an imperative, but schools are struggling to find the best approaches. Government policies in the past have been supportive of first language teaching and bilingual education in Indigenous communities of Australia, delivering funding to support the curriculum, then wavering, changing



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policy to teaching in English for the first 4 hours of each day, and subsequently, cutting funding to bilingual education programs. Evidencebased research in this area has shown a comparison of four bilingual schools for 2008, 2009 and 2010, but again, as Wilson (2014, p. 120) has noted, “the data demonstrated a fall-off in achievement in the years immediately following 2008 resulting from the cessation of bilingual approaches or reductions in funding for these programs”, although it is not clear if the degree to which withdrawn support affected the outcomes. Other evidence shows practices in bilingual education have not achieved higher standards in student development. In the paper Transforming Indigenous education, it was stated by the NT Government that bilingual schools “are not performing as well as their non-bilingual schools across the standards of school performance” (quoted in Devlin, 2009, p. 10). Those who argue against bilingual education say that “delaying reading instruction in English is counterproductive and that English-only instruction is a more effective approach” (Slavin & Cheung, 2004). However, in relation to the NT, the strong Indigenous cultures enhance the argument for learning in first language or in a bilingual setting. Purdie (2009, p. 3) stated, “We urge that students who have an Indigenous language as their first language be supported to learn that language either as part of the school’s language program or as part of a bilingual education program”. The great debate also divides politicians. Liberal MP Sharman Stone stated in 2012 that children do learn best when they are taught in their first language and “that is a fundamental understanding internationally but something we haven’t yet grasped in Australia” (Stone, 2012). Looking towards our global neighbours, Singapore has made a different commitment and appears to be reaping the benefits. Their focus is on “language mastery” – learning both in English and in the mother tongue. Bilingualism, a cornerstone of our education system, has been a valuable asset to our pupils, enabling them to tap the opportunities that can be found in the global environment. (Ministry of Education, Singapore, 2013, p. 5).

Policy recommendations for the NT in the Wilson (2014, p. 122) report were to sustain teaching in the first language with a trained teacher, training Indigenous first language speakers to teach the language, continue and provide English language learning, deliver the curriculum in English and assist children learning concepts in English through the first language. Assisting local Indigenous teachers in gaining their qualifications for this approach will need to be a policy nurtured and funded very carefully, and



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it has had been a focus through initiatives from such bodies as the Commonwealth Department of Education, Employment and Workplace Relations (DEEWR). It has been argued by many Indigenous education researchers and through government policies that “training effective Indigenous teachers is critical for improving Indigenous students’ learning outcomes” (Mellor & Corrigan, 2004, p. 39). Benefits include specific cultural and community understanding, defusing language barriers, and presenting Indigenous teachers as positive role models, encouraging success for the students’ future. Yet, the imprimatur to attain English language proficiency remains. Literacy, as we know, combines a suite of discrete skills, and here phonological and phonemic awareness programs point to success. The US National Reading Panel (2000) concluded that phonic and phonemic awareness are the best ways to determine how successful children will be in learning to read in their first two years of formal schooling. This approach has also been conducted in the NT, with 250 children in the Darwin and Katherine regions in the Improving Literacy and Numeracy Partnerships. Results show that after a six-month period, average gains were around 20%, with Indigenous children showing greater percentage gains of reading levels and phonemic awareness (Wilson, 2014). Among the programs that explicitly teach phonemic awareness are Jolly Phonics and Crack the Code (Wilson, 2014, p. 66). These are complemented by spelling programs, including SpellLink and Words Their Way. These varied approaches to literacy education are indicative of the ongoing struggles by schools to respond to both the specificities of a location and available expertise and the edicts of the NT education system. Wilson (2014, p. 110) enumerated further programs used in the NT: Accelerated Literacy, Walking Talking Texts, First Steps Literacy, QuickSmart Literacy and Gateways to Literacy. These were evaluated against the Evidence-Based Practices Framework and it was found that “[n]one of these programs appears to provide a complete solution and there is no guidance to schools about which program should be used in specific situations” (Wilson, 2014, p. 110). This was also supported by the Australian Council for Educational Research (ACER) delivering the findings that there was no robust evidence on the successful impact of these programs (Meiers et al., 2013).



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Direct Action and Direct Instruction However, fast-track solutions to improve outcomes remain enticing. Continuing with a global gaze, the most recent literacy initiative that is being mandated for very remote Indigenous communities is a program imported from the USA, Direct Instruction (DI). DI was developed by Siegfried Engelmann in the 1960s and is now being used widely in the low socioeconomic status (SES) suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia, where it was found that the “DI model was the only model in which significant, positive outcomes were demonstrated in the areas of basic skills, problem solving and thinking skills, as well as affective measure of self-esteem” (Coughlin, 2011, p. 4). DI incorporates four components: Class (core DI program delivering twenty hours of literacy and numeracy each week), Club (lessons in sport and music), and Culture and Community (including local languages, and traditional knowledge). Cape York community leaders saw DI in action on a US study tour, bought in, and preliminary studies in the Cape York Aboriginal Australian Academy (CYAAA) in Far North Queensland indicate that students are making important gains in reading achievements and are achieving minimum standards of growth and development (Coughlin, 2011; Rothwell, 2013). Then, swayed by Cape York’s nationally influential Indigenous advocate, Noel Pearson, the NT Education Minister announced that “Noel Pearson’s CYAAA is regarded as the nation’s best practice in Indigenous education” (Vangopoulos, 2014) and that the NT would also subscribe to the program. The success of CYAAA also involves delivering programs in the first language. In the Hope Vale community, the program is delivered in English and Guugu Yimidhirr ņ the most commonly used language in the community. It is delivered by an Indigenous teacher using the DI techniques; “This is an initiative that could be built on in the NT for the teaching of local languages, particularly if NT decides to use DI approaches in literacy” (Wilson, 2014, p. 117). However, it must be noted that DI has only been implemented in part and, unlike Cape York and some other communities in remote Australia, it has not been initiated at the communities’ request and no targeted teacher professional development has been included in the roll-out. The drills are also being used in some early childhood settings in direct contradistinction between the family-oriented and play-based learning of preceding programs. Wilson, it seems here, was taking a diplomatic line.



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Holistic Approaches and Community Development Attendance is also a chronic issue, for without attendance, there can be no formal education. The Australian Government, as well as the NT Government, have developed and implemented several approaches, programs and policy changes over the years to combat this issue, if without success. In Learning Lessons, Collins (1999) discusses how children must attend school consistently to progress. He states, “In relation to Indigenous education, poor attendance is, without doubt, the primary cause of poor educational outcomes” (p. 141). The NT Department created a strategy and action plan, Every Child Every Day (Wilson, 2014, p. 167; Burns, 2010), that includes several projects that are currently delivered: x Ensuring attendance and participation pathway provides timelines to address student absenteeism and ensure every Territory child attends school every day. x A Frequent Attenders program in selected remote communities involves reward–based incentives. x Expansion of the Value of School campaign encompasses a media campaign and localised advertising, using local people to inform parents about their responsibilities regarding school enrolment, attendance and participation laws. x Local Teachers Local Schools targets developing local teachers through three key programs: More Indigenous Teachers, Teacher Education Scholarships and Pre-Tertiary Success Pilot. x Flexible School Year Trial takes place in Gunbalanya, West Arnhem College. Students at Gunbalanya start term 1 in midJanuary, which is three weeks earlier than the rest of the NT. Terms 1 and 2 are 11 weeks long, with one additional week of holidays at the end of Term 1. The school has six weeks of holidays on completion of Semester 1. Term 3 has eight weeks. The Gunbalanya school calendar then realigns with the rest of the NT at the end of Term 3. This was due to access in and out of community during wet seasons and access to and return trips for ceremonies, bush holidays, football and other cultural activities. According to the NT Government, “getting students to school more often has improved literacy and numeracy outcomes for these students. The flexible school year trial provides a targeted solution for the distinct fluctuations in attendance levels at Gunbalanya School” (DECS NT, 2014). The trial is still underway and research will follow.



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x Attendance and Truancy Officers program is a nation-wide approach, with over 400 truancy officers responsible for taking children to and from school, issuing fines if warranted, as well as ensuring they have uniforms and breakfast, and referring cases to government agencies, including child protection if the need arises (Smee, 2013). This policy has already achieved some success in attendance. According to Anthony Stewart (2014), “figures show an additional 604 students have shown up to class at Indigenous community schools across the NT, Western Australia and Queensland since the start of the school year”. This policy will continue and be evaluated at the end of the year. Another policy developed in 2014 was the Remote School Attendance Strategy (RSAS), where school attendance officers work closely with the schools, community, and families to ensure children go to school (Wilson, 2014, p. 165). It was implemented in communities in New South Wales, South Australia, Western Australia, Queensland and the NT, and the results are promising. At Ramingining School in the NT, for example, both teachers and the community had been struggling with attendance. When RSAS was introduced, they took the opportunity “to make school a part of the community so students, parents and families would become comfortable in the school environment” (Australian Government, 2014b). Some individual schools approach attendance issues with their own initiatives and programs. The Mornington Island community in Queensland (Watt, Darby & Wilson-Watt, 2013) is using a communitybased approach involving members of the Arts Centre and community elders to develop a set of local language readers in the traditional languages of the region and books to take home and to use at school. The school also uses incentives and rewards-based programs, which reward excellent attendance, achievement and behaviours. According to Watt, Darby and Wilson-Watt (2013), the attendance rates in this particular school have risen from 57% in 2008 to 70% in 2011. Yarrabah State School in Far North Queensland (Nancarrow & Egan 2014) is using role models to tackle attendance. Players from the Yarrabah Sea Hawks rugby league club make home and school visits to encourage school attendance. On the other hand, Salisbury North R-7 School in Adelaide (Murphy, O’Loughlin & Parkin, 2014) uses The Work Program to boost its attendance rates. The program involves 10 key strategies that focus on and work with the school, community and Aboriginal Education Worker to



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implement and evaluate success (Murphy, O’Loughlin & Parkin, 2014). The 10 key strategies are: x No shaming to enhance a sense of pride and identity. x Lunch vouchers that can be taken to the canteen to access free lunches. x Provision of an Aboriginal education pantry, which is a cupboard used in the canteen for families to keep their lunches when away from home. x A clothes whip-around to clothe students. x Attendance awards that are delivered at the end of term and yearly. x Short-term awards presented on a daily and weekly basis. x Feedback to parents to encourage parents’ cooperation. x Haranguing for students to encourage others to get to school. x Pick-ups by a worker to collect students when needed. x The practice of Deadly Writin’, Readin’ and Talkin’ Project, designed by Brian Gray to promote success in learning. (Murphy, O’Loughlin & Parkin, 2014) A well-documented issue regarding the difficulties in school success for Indigenous students is wellbeing, health and behaviour. Zubrick et al. (2005, p. 503) state, “Nearly one in four Aboriginal children (24 percent) are at high risk of clinically significant emotional or behavioural difficulties. These difficulties are associated with a substantial educational burden”. The KidsMatter organisation (Dobia & O’Rourke, 2011) recommends that schools and communities should look at several key strategies to implement school-based mental health programs. These include early intervention, partnerships, effective teaching (including Indigenous perspectives), supporting socioemotional development and getting help and assistance as required. Looking at global initiatives in Finland, they have excellent practices in place for early intervention in special education, welfare and wellbeing support and behavioural issues. Sahlberg (Rear Vision, 2012) discusses how students have access, help and support in health and psychological services and counselling as part of every school setting – the welfare and support services are available in every school all the time. Currently in Australia, there are varieties of different social and emotional learning programs and government initiatives used to address this issue. At a school-based level, other programs are mentioned by Wilson (2014), including You Can do It, Tribes and Bounce Back – A Classroom



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Resiliency Program. Bounce Back is used at Milikapiti School in the NT. It is a program developed by McGrath and Nobel (2003) as a school-based curriculum program. It is “designed to teach students how to become more resilient and to establish environmental contexts and processes that are protective” (McGrath & Nobel, 2003, p. 2). It focusses on ten units, including core values, courage, relationships and humour. Many other policies and programs have been implemented recently and are being developed to increase opportunities and enhance educational outcomes for Indigenous children. Those currently in use in the NT are Focus Schools Next Steps, Improving School Enrolments and Attendance Welfare Reform Measure (SEAM), Investing in Focus Schools, Parental and Community Engagement Program (PaCE), Personalised Learning Plans, School Nutrition Program, and Sporting Chance Initiative. Both the ethos and the actualisation of these programs are potentially at odds with the prescriptive and normative approaches employed in DI and NAPLAN. Standardised testing for Indigenous students, as well as students for whom English is not their first language, can be seen as culturally biased and misleading, and the scores do not reflect the learning that anyone of these students might have made. Apart from what are invariably environmentally harsh and isolated localities, the legacies of colonial appropriations and amalgamations render many communities without a shared language, impoverished and tense. Teaching in these localities is extraordinarily complex and ongoing support for remote teachers, resources and professional development, is imperative. Very remote teachers require other mettle than graduate scores. Systemic support, such as that offered in Japan, is needed, where “teachers jointly plan, observe, analyse, and refine actual classroom lessons called ‘research lessons’” (Jackson, 2012). School communities require support needed to tailor programs to the presenting needs of their student cohort. As summed up by Wilson (2014, p. 16), there needs to be consistency, a long-term strategic framework in practice, and an evidence-based approach to implementation that is consistent with long-term goals, clear expectations of performance, and strong management. This means to hasten slowly and to commit to coordinated, resourced and evaluated programs for 10 years, where the holistic engagement and development of Indigenous Australian children is at the core.



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References Australian Government. (2014a). Closing the gap: Prime Minister’s report 2014. Commonwealth of Australia. Retrieved October 26, 2015 from: https://www.dpmc.gov.au/sites/default/files/publications/closing_the_g ap_2014.pdf. —. (2014b). Ramingining: The model for increasing school attendance. Retrieved October 26, 2015 from: http://www.Indigenous.gov.au/ramingining-the-model-for-increasingschool-attendance. —. (n.d.). Overarching bilateral Indigenous plan between the Commonwealth of Australia and the Northern Territory of Australia to close the gap in Indigenous disadvantage 2010-2015. Commonwealth of Australia. Retrieved October 26, 2015 from: http://www.dss.gov.au/our-responsibilities/Indigenous-australians/ programs-services/closing-the-gap/closing-the-gap-overarchingbilateral-Indigenous-plans. Burns, C. (2010). Working together to boost school attendance. Media release. Territory Stories. Retrieved March 26, 2016 from: http://www.territorystories.nt.gov.au/bitstream/10070/233584/1/Burns271010-Working_together_to_boost_school_attendance.pdf. Collins, B. (1999). Learning lessons: An independent review of Indigenous education in the Northern Territory. Darwin: Northern Territory Department of Education. Coughlin, C. (2011) The impact of Direct Instruction implementation on the reading achievement of Cape York Australian Aboriginal Academy Students: A first year analysis. Cape York Australian Aboriginal Academy. DECS, NT (Department of Education and Children’s Services, NT). (2014). Flexible school year trial. Retrieved October 26, 2015 from: http://www.education.nt.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0004/28291/Fle xibleSchoolYearTrial.pdf. DoE, NT (Department of Education, NT). (2011). Families as first teachers ņ Indigenous Parenting Support Services Program. Northern Territory Government. Retrieved October 26, 2015 from: http://www.education.nt.gov.au/parents-community/early-childhoodservices/families-as-first-teachers-program. Devlin, B. (2009). Bilingual education in the Northern Territory and the continuing debate over its effectiveness and value. Paper presented to an AIATSIS Research Symposium. Bilingual education in the Northern Territory: Principles, policy and practice. Visions Theatre,



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National Museum of Australia, Canberra. Retrieved October 26, 2015 from: http://www.abc.net.au/4corners/special_eds/20090914/language/ docs/Devlin_paper.pdf. Dobia, B. & O’Rourke, V. (2011). Promoting the mental health and wellbeing of Indigenous children in Australian primary schools. Kids Matter: Australian primary school mental health initiative. Sydney: Commonwealth of Australia. Jackson, B. (2012, July 12). Lesson study in Japan: A teacher’s travel journal. The Daily Riff. [Web log post]. Retrieved October 26, 2015 from: http://www.thedailyriff.com/2010/09/what-american-teacherscan-learn-from-japan.php. Marshall, K. (2014, May 2) Joseph Sparling’s Abecedarian Approach to early learning is making a difference in Indigenous communities. The Sydney Morning Herald. Retrieved October 26, 2015 from: http://www.smh.com.au/national/joseph-sparlings-abecedarianapproach-20140501-37ker.html. McGrath, H. & Noble, T. (2003). Bounce Back! A classroom resiliency program – Teacher’s handbook. Sydney: Pearson. Meiers, M., Reid, K., McKenzie, P. & Mellor, S. (2013). Literacy and numeracy interventions in the early years of schooling: A literature review. Report to the Ministerial Advisory Group on Literacy and Numeracy. Melbourne: Australian Council of Educational Research. Mellor, S. & Corrigan, M. (2004). The case for change: A review of contemporary research on Indigenous education outcomes. Camberwell, Vic., Australian Council of Educational Research. Milburn, C. (2012, June 4). With an eye on the Finnish line. The Age. Retrieved October 26, 2015 from: http://www.smh.com.au/national/education/with-an-eye-on-thefinnish-line-20120601-1zmwo.html. Ministry of Education, Singapore. (2013). Primary school education – Preparing your child for tomorrow. Ministry of Education, Singapore. Retrieved March 26, 2015 from: https://www.moe.gov.sg/education/primary. Ministry of Education and Culture, Finnish National Board of Education (CIMO). (2012). Finnish education in a nutshell – Education in Finland. Ministry of Education and Culture & National Board of Education, Finland. Murphy, J., O’Loughlin, M. & Parkin, B. (2014). Encouraging Aboriginal student attendance at Salisbury North R-7 School – Whatever it takes. Commonwealth of Australia. Retrieved October 26, 2015 from:



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http://www.whatworks.edu.au/dbAction.do?cmd=displaySitePage1&su bcmd=select&id=459. Nancarrow, K. & Egan, I. (2014, March 28). Yarrabah use role models to tackle attendance. ABC Far North Queensland, Retrieved October 26, 2015 from: www.abc.net.au/local/stories/2014/03/27/3972683.htm. National Reading Panel. (2000). Teaching children to read: An evidencebased assessment of the scientific research literature on reading and its implications for reading instruction. Washington, DC: National Institute of Child Health and Human Development. Purdie, N. (2009). A way forward for Indigenous language research development. 21, Article 2, ACER, Research. Retrieved October 26, 2015 from: http://research.acer.edu.au/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1059&context =resdev. Rear Vision (2012, September 2). Finland: The real education revolution. ABC Radio National. Retrieved October 26, 2015 from: http://www.abc.net.au/radionational/programs/rearvision/finland-thereal-education-revolution/4228418. Rothwell, N. (2013, May 11). “Get ready! A hand-clap”. Cape York Aboriginal Australian Academy. The Australian. Retrieved October 26, 2015 from: http://www.theaustralian.com.au/national-affairs/ indigenous/controversial-teaching-method-brings-hope-and-socialchange-to-cape-york/story-fn9hm1pm-1226639388060. Slavin, R. E. & Cheung, A. (2004). How do English language learners learn to read? Educational Leadership, 61(6), 52-57. Smee, B (2013, December 20). 400 officers to get kids to school. NT News. Retrieved October 26, 2015 from: http://www.ntnews.com.au/news/northern-territory/officers-to-getkids-to-school/story-fnk0b1zt-1226787232071. Stewart, A. (2014, February 27). Truancy officers boost attendance at remote Indigenous community schools. ABC News. Retrieved October 26, 2015 from: http://www.abc.net.au/news/2014-02-27/truancyoficers-remote-Indigenous-schools-attendance-up-figures/5287606. Stone, S. (2012, September 17). Indigenous students need bilingual education. ABC News. Retrieved October 26, 2015 from: http://www.abc.net.au/news/2012-09-17/senate-committeerecommends-bilingual-education/4265814. Thomson, S., DeBortoli, L. & Buckley, S. C. (2012). PISA in brief: Highlights from the full Australian report: PISA 2012: How Australia measures up. ACER. Retrieved April 29, 2016 from: http://research.acer.edu.au/ozpisa/8.



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Vangopoulos, K. (2014, April 22). Peter Chandler to see successful Indigenous schooling at Cape York, talk with leaders. NT News. Retrieved October 26, 2015 from: http://www.ntnews.com.au/news/northern-territory/peter-chandler-tosee-successful-Indigenous-schooling-at-cape-york-talk-withleaders/story-fnk0b1zt-1226892616359. Watt, F., Darby, C. & Wilson-Watt, N. (2013, March 4). Community approach boosts school attendance. News and Media. Australian Government. Retrieved March 26, 2016 from: http://www.Indigenous.gov.au/community-approach-boosts-schoolattendance. Wilson, B. (2014). A share in the future: Review of Indigenous education in the Northern Territory. Darwin: Department of Education, Northern Territory. Zubrick, S. R, Silburn, S. R, De Maio, J. A, Shephard, C., Griffin, J. A., Dalby, R. B., Mitrou, F. G., Lawernce, D. M., Hayward, C., Pearson, G., Milroy, H., Milroy, J. & Cox, A. (2005). The Western Australian Aboriginal child health survey: Improving the educational experiences of Aboriginal children and young people. Perth: Curtin University of Technology and Telethon Institute for Child Health Research, Australia.

  



GLOBALISATION AND THE INDIGENOUS COMMUNITY TANIA TAMAOTAI AND YOSHI BUDD CHARLES DARWIN UNIVERSITY, AUSTRALIA

Abstract There are many factors which can lead us to underestimate our Indigenous students and consequently fail to encourage them to think deeply about important global and social issues. This paper draws on the authors’ experiences of teaching in Indigenous communities in a bilingual mode. Using the multiliteracies framework (Kalantzis & Cope, 2000), the paper analyses these experiences and exemplifies gaps in the ways in which Western pedagogies include and appreciate the intercultural skills and knowledge of Indigenous students across different cultural and linguistic domains. This chapter explores the potential of the Global Connections initiative (Doherty, 2002), which harnesses communication technologies to enable Indigenous students to develop and communicate positive images of their cultures and their plural student identities. This strategy helps build a richer and more complex understanding of the experience of indigeneity within their own community and their place as valued members of the global community.

Introduction The many ways in which Indigenous students and their communities have experienced the impact of colonialism in terms of dispossession, and disregard for their traditions and beliefs are well documented (Banerjee & Osuri, 2000; Hollinsworth, 1996; Short, 2003, 2005). Although Indigenous communities and individuals vary greatly in terms of their social and cultural identities, their position as a marginalised group continues to be reinforced in Western educational contexts through repeated references to

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a purported lack of engagement and poor numeracy and literacy outcomes. In order to counter this deficit discourse, we argue that a multiliteracies framework for teaching and learning can create an opportunity to acknowledge and work with, rather than against, the skills and perspectives of Indigenous students. The concept of multiliteracies put forward by the New London Group (Cope & Kalantzis, 2000) is informed by a social constructivist view of knowledge and learning (Luke, 2003) in which social interaction, negotiation and contestation fuel the need for innovative textual practices. These constantly shifting practices challenge many of the assumptions evident in contemporary education policies and practices that promote more formally defined and measurable taxonomies of knowledge. This paper uses a multiliteracies framework for examining the potential of a teaching and learning initiative known as Global Connections (Doherty, 2002) for engaging a group of Indigenous middle school students in a remote area of the Northern Territory with global issues. The Global Connections initiative aims to use digital technologies to connect Indigenous students across the globe and engage them in conversations that promote a positive view of their place, culture and identity. Figure 1 shows the progression of learning foci in the Global Connections initiative (Doherty, 2002), utilising the multiliteracies framework proposed by the New London Group in 1996. Throughout this process, students are engaging with multimodal texts: selecting, reading, responding to, critiquing and producing texts relevant to their learning and to their community contexts and learning more about the principles of textual design as they do so. Healy (as cited in Cloonan, 2005, p. 220) compares multiliteracies to “a vehicle for travelling the curriculum, in ways that make sense to students”. It also mirrors community and more global practices with text and engages students in text production and related activity over long-term projects (Healy, 2004). A multiliteracies approach, with its focus on multimodal learning, encourages a broader perspective of learners, values the diversity students bring to a task and encourages teachers to see the student as more than a set of disembodied skills. Emphasis is on the student as a whole person with a unique identity formed through interactions with their community, their cultural practices and physical environment. The use of multimedia and social media in the Global Connections initiative (Doherty, 2002) allows for a variety of active learning tasks as students learn about themselves, about their communities, and the place in which

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they live. As they engage with others, they also learn about text production as they share what is meaningful for them.

Students' learning is situated in their own context as they explore concepts or situations through a local, familiar lens, reflecting on their role or identity within that frame.

Students explore and implement ways in which to transform their personal or community practices in response to their learning and critically reflect on concepts or situations

Students require more overt instruction as they move into more unfamiliar contexts in time and space.

Students relate their new learning through overt instruction to their own situated practice and begin to more critically frame their understandings.

Figure 1: The learning cycle of the multiliteracies framework for the Global Connections initiative (Doherty, 2002).

Indigenous Learners and Global Connections The overwhelming majority of Indigenous students attend school to Year 9, but only 33% go on to Year 10 and only 6% go on to university (Ashman, 2012). Suspicion of Western education exists because of a fear of further loss of culture, and it is often the case in schools that recognition of Indigenous culture takes on a token appearance, either through teachers’ lack of understanding of Indigenous culture or a lack of community involvement in schools. Craven and Marsh (2004) found through their research that Indigenous students were generally more disadvantaged academically than their non-Indigenous peers but held higher self-concepts in art and physical ability. In the Northern Territory, the Clontarf Indigenous Football Academy and the Palmerston Girls’ Academy, for

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example, develop positive role models as these organisations support students and their families in their wellbeing and attendance, and improve students’ self-concepts through sport and fitness programs. While self-concept is multi-faceted, it is domain-specific and strength in non-academic domains is unlikely to improve students’ academic performance. Another area that needs to be addressed for Indigenous students, therefore, involves attention to building a positive academic selfconcept. Yeung, Craven and Jinnat (2013) recommend that student learning can be improved by employing a dual approach to promoting selfconcept and academic achievement for all. The aim of the Global Connections initiative is to encourage students to view themselves in a different light: as academic partners with students across the globe, researching topics close to their hearts, sharing their findings with one another and gaining new insights from their partners in learning through the process. Indigenous perspectives are embedded into Global Connections at the same time that students are encouraged to reflect critically on the feedback they receive and the perspectives they gain from communicating their learning to others in a different context. Doherty (2002) has identified nine distinctive pedagogical features that contribute to a high degree of engagement, effective learning and performance. Her engagement framework provides a useful lens through which to critique the Global Connections initiative. Table 1 identifies briefly how Global Connections relates to Doherty’s framework. Doherty’s (2002) pedagogical features for engagement and effective learning Avoiding a deficit program.

Strategies applied in Global Connections A deficit view is avoided by acknowledging the various strengths that students bring to the program and utilising them, recognising that each student has different strengths and needs and that they do not need to adhere to the stereotypes so often applied to Indigenous students. The aim is to develop a strong academic self-concept through the use of the capabilities students already display, though this may not be evident in formal assessments or indeed, in the curriculum itself.

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Exploring multiple roles for readers.

Students are required to read not just print text, but also to reflect critically on interviews or verbal interactions, visual media and the design of multimedia texts in order to gain a full understanding of an author’s intended audience and purpose and the impact that might have on people’s understanding of what they are reading. It provides a much more active role for the reader rather than the passive role found in very traditional classroom settings.

Developing multiliteracies across texts and technologies.

Technology is an essential tool in a multiliteracies program. Information and communications technologies can be used to motivate students to engage in text design and production for an identified purpose and audience. Not only do students need to be able to deconstruct multimodal texts, but also to create them with the purpose of communicating their thoughts, ideas, experiences and opinions using technology as a tool for expressing their values and worldviews.

Building a community of expertise

Students will often be the experts in their domain in this program but they will also need to utilise the expertise of others in their community and the communities of their global partners to purposefully build a collaborative learning community.

Developing a technical vocabulary.

Students will need to be able to communicate in depth about social, political and cultural issues on a more global scale and to express their own cultural knowledge using terminology that is understood outside of their current situation. They will also need to become conversant with the technology they will be using to facilitate this process.

Being inclusive of students’ worlds.

Global Connections is inherently inclusive of the students’ worlds as students’ lived realities form the basis for

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dialogue. Students will explore their own cultural identity and recognise that while their cultural experiences all differ, there are many commonalities that can be explored across cultures. Teachers will need to acknowledge that the students are the experts in the field of their own cultural experiences.

Fostering independent learning and problem-solving strategies.

Global Connections recognises that collaborative learning may be the culturally preferred learning style in Indigenous communities and should, therefore, be an integral part of the program. However, is also important to provide opportunities to develop students’ ability to learn independently, and problem-solving can take many forms in this program, including resolving technological issues and developing appropriate communication skills across cultures, time zones and places.

Experiencing electronic communities.

The learning program uses Skype and social media to communicate with Indigenous communities both within Australia and globally. Students will need to design an electronic platform through which to share their learning and experiences.

Including role models.

Through their explorations into their own culture and interviewing local members of their own Indigenous and non-Indigenous communities, students will identify positive forms of leadership within their community. Through their connections to other communities globally, students will also have access to a wider variety of role models with a broader range of experiences and different world views.

Table 1: Doherty’s (2002) nine distinctive pedagogical features that contribute to a high degree of engagement, effective learning and performance.

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While schools are encouraging their students to be independent problemsolvers, students entering the workplace are increasingly being asked to work collaboratively, using technology as a tool to collaborate in a global environment. Jenkins, Purushotma, Weigel, Clinton, and Robison (2009, p. 33) claim that “[y]outh need skills for working within social networks, for pooling knowledge within a collective intelligence, for negotiating across cultural differences and for reconciling conflicting bits of data to form a coherent picture of the world around them”. Global Connections (Doherty, 2002) requires students to develop a collective intelligence by pooling their knowledge and resources across cultural and geographical boundaries. In the process of interacting within a larger, online community, students develop a more complex set of social skills and cultural understandings. Global Connections is an inquiry-based program that encourages students to reflect critically on their values and assumptions through a growing awareness of multiple perspectives. Building on a student’s repertoire of life experiences and giving students access to other ways of knowing, doing and being encourage a constant process of negotiation of self in relation to other ways of understanding, being and communicating (Nakata, 2001). In order for active, inquiry learning approaches to be implemented successfully, the foundations must be carefully laid. Alemu (2010) proposes an inquiry approach that begins with students getting to know more about each other and the staff through global discussion forums, sharing their international experiences, be it a lengthy holiday or a migrant experience or their family’s own cultural background. Perhaps the most important part of this process is the informal observation of students’ interactions, communication and expressions of knowledge or misconceptions, which will allow for the design of teaching points throughout the program and lay the groundwork for the inquiry process to begin. He states that the misconceptions and gaps in students’ world views must be deliberately addressed, something that is often overlooked as schools succumb to the pressure to meet accountability standards. These pressures tend to result in more localisation and less globalisation even though the changes in the global marketplace and subsequently the way we conduct our lives are undergoing rapid change. Global Connections (Doherty, 2002) provides a focal point for the teaching of global, intercultural understandings, exploring culture initially in the local setting (situated practice), expanding students’ horizons through online interactions and collaborations with other cultural groups

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(overt instruction from both teachers and peers), reflecting on their own values, beliefs and contributions and how they relate to others (critical framing) and making adjustments to their cultural practices and attitudes in response to their learning with a view to increased positive participation at the levels of both self and community in different settings (transformed practice). These learning processes form a continuous cycle, encouraging students to expand the way they see things to include more critical insight. Students are in the global arena through the social media with which they are most familiar. The affordances of social media are explored in terms of how they can be used to extend students’ horizons and encourage them to think more critically about the way they, and others, view things. The aim is to stress the similarities and commonalities that unite people and to provide accurate information that will serve to correct many of the misconceptions held not only by students but by the wider community. It is structured so as to facilitate a sense of sharing commonly-held human values and to encourage students to communicate, advocate and problemsolve, seeking clarification and participating in reflection (Healy, 2004). The initiative grew from a particular school’s vision to create confident and connected global citizens (Rosebery Middle School, n.d.). Rosebery Middle School is only four years old and is a purpose-built middle school in an area where the demographic consists of a large defence population, a low-mid socio-economic status, a large Filipino population and an Indigenous population. Issues with student disengagement and low attendance exist, and the school has built a very strong well-being and coteaching program in the past four years to ensure all students have the best possible opportunities to engage with their learning and forge successful pathways into further education or employment. As part of the global education focus, Rosebery Middle School has developed a strong Deforest Action project (seeking to prevent deforestation), which allows a class to connect with global environmental issues and action groups. It has also initiated SOSE (Studies of Society and Environment) programs in which students connect with identified participants across the globe through a website created to explore current themes in the immigration and asylum seeker debate through Socratic discussion. It is noticeable in these early forays into global education that a few Indigenous students are finding connections to global environments and are actively participating in these programs. Australian society is pluralistic and, historically, has a homogenising tendency, where it is desirable that everyone appears the same. At the

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same time, “look after yourself” is the most powerful modern message, and this can be difficult for students from more interdependent cultures (Kalantzis, 1987). The middle years of schooling provide an optimum time for students to explore developing a positive self-identity as they forge their own identity as distinct from their parents and peers. Global Connections (Doherty, 2002) is very much geared towards facilitating the exploration, development and consolidation of student identity and is designed to meet the learning needs and capabilities of middle-year students regardless of their background. Using social media, students will promote their culture and share what it means to be Indigenous through a research and reflection project. Merely celebrating culture, while it leads to a positive feeling about the culture, does not create transformation or an improved academic self-concept (Kalantzis, 1987). The focus of this program is more on how people are enculturated through values, habits and shared stories. The intention is not to dwell on traditional cultures, which can result in the promotion of stereotypes, but to explore the dynamic nature of cultures, providing students with the tools for cultural analysis and full participation in academic discourse. The program begins with common human needs and experiences and it explores commonalities and differences as social and historical constructs. The concept of race being a factor in the program is discounted as there is no relation between genetic variation and cultural variation. Race relations are really socio-cultural relations (Reutzel & Hollingsworth, 1993). Specific teaching episodes are incorporated into longer-term projects through contexts which allow students to experience, conceptualise, analyse and apply their learning. Students trial textual design, take risks and make mistakes as they create their social media sites. The teaching and learning environment is set up so as to balance explicit instruction and problem-solving tasks. Learning progresses through sharing and reflections about how we can participate socially and re-construct our identities as we change and grow. The main purpose of the program is to shift both teachers’ and students’ views from a deficit perspective to a resource view, and classroom instruction from a transmission model to a more discursive and interactive mode. The program provides a forum for communication, advocacy and problem-solving. It encourages students to seek clarification and reflect on their own values and attitudes (Lynch, 1989).

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The Global Connections initiative (Doherty, 2002) is an avenue through which teachers and students can link prior learning to extended repertoires and build capacity to operate successfully in different domains. Extending knowledge and skills is a constant, lifelong process of negotiation of one’s relationship to the world and making sense of new learning. The Global Connections initiative seeks to work through both inclusion and diversity, creating a sense of community, as Indigenous students construct both their own identity and relationships with students from other Indigenous cultures through collaborative work, research and communication. Students benefit when they are able to make guided choices of textual materials and when teachers allow those self-selected materials to be central rather than peripheral to the students’ programs, particularly when culturally relevant texts are made available for under-represented groups. To avoid a disjointed (and often demotivating) approach to teaching reading comprehension, teachers must exert care not to reduce comprehension to a set of discrete skills presented sequentially. Taking the time to consider textual design, intent and personal relevance enhances students’ connections to texts in both the processes of deconstruction and production of texts.

The Global Connections Initiative and Inclusion Research on professional development in New Zealand (Sleeter, 2011) acknowledged that student identities are not immutable, but constructed and reshaped through their social and cultural affiliations. Learning is promoted in contexts where teachers respect, rather than ignore, students’ socio-cultural experiences. It is important, therefore, for teachers in the Global Connections (Doherty, 2002) program to show a willingness to learn about Indigenous cultures from their students: about their experiences in and out of school, and the variations between the ways they use their knowledge and experience in different settings. It was noted in this research that students appreciated teachers who tried to understand and acknowledge the experience of being Indigenous and recognised that there is no single way to be or feel Indigenous. An inclusive learning environment (Ashman, 2012) is a classroom culture where students collaborate and learn from each other, staff work to remove barriers, and the community is connected and respected. The connection to the local community in this initiative is as important as the connection to the wider global community as they interact and share perspectives. The use of technology to connect people, to research and to share learning

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requires a strong capacity for critique and analysis as it involves values, beliefs, attitudes and opinions. Freire (1993) describes literacy as being like an onion in that the more literate we become, the more we see the complex layers within. As students communicate in multiple modes, aurally, linguistically, spatially, visually and through gestures, they peel back layers of literacy and reveal greater complexities in these forms of communication, deepening their ability to communicate effectively in a global, cross-cultural environment. For students who are already working cross-culturally, the school environment can feel like a minefield that they must tread with care. While Indigenous students’ experiences vary widely, there is a need to ensure that they, and all students, are empowered in their ability to function successfully in an educational environment. A middle school student once commented that he did not try hard to learn because he knew that something would trip him up and he would fail. Indigenous students need to be able to identify and deal with the traps that are inherent in the Australian education system due to its Anglo-European cultural bias. Devlin (2013) discusses the need to develop competency in the dominant culture’s educational environment, including: x x x x

Appropriately seeking help Seeking and offering feedback Expressing disagreement or challenging feedback Engaging in the discourse of school

While these seem to be a given in education, they are often the stumbling blocks for students who might otherwise be keen to participate in a learning program but just do not know how to begin or are fearful of ridicule or perceived failure. As in orienteering, there are skills you need in order to navigate the educational terrain and arrive at your desired destination. Many Indigenous students living in societies where interconnections and collaboration are a cultural requirement and, as such, are suited to an interdependent model of learning nevertheless struggle to succeed in this disconnected manner of teaching and learning. In an increasingly globalised world, students who can instantly recite outdated information but cannot connect their learning with the social, economic and political world at large are going to struggle in the global environment. This has become a concern that needs to be addressed not only for students from

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minority or marginalised groups, but for all students in the current educational environment. Devlin (2013) reminds us that for some students, education is a new culture they have to navigate and, as reflection is undertaken, it can be seen that this is something that needs to be addressed more deliberately. Gorinski and Abernethy (2007) argue that “deficit theorising” focuses on negative, stereotyped characteristics as the cause of lack of success and that this is detrimental. Deficit theory involves actively looking for reasons why students might be unsuccessful rather than the ways in which they are and can be successful. There is an inherent danger of viewing “difference” as “deficit”. To avoid moving too close to the edge of this precipice in current pedagogic approaches, it is necessary to be proactive in finding an alternate outlook and to ensure the school itself continues to be flexible enough to work together with the individual students to bridge the sociocultural divides. The Global Connections (Doherty, 2002) program provides an avenue for the thorough exploration of the multicultural student’s need to “code-switch”, requiring students to recognise that they operate in culturally and linguistically different ways in different situations and social environments. It emphasises the socio-cultural learning and the development of the student as the agent of change as the student learns to adapt to alternate equally valid discourses. For individuals, learning through Global Connections involves engaging in and contributing to the practices of their communities, being active members of their society who are connected with other societies.

The Global Connections Initiative and Multimedia Stanley and Plaza (2002) offer some interesting perspectives on active learning which build on the problem-posing approach of Freire (1973), requiring the students to interact with local stakeholders to gain diverse perspectives on local topics of interest. Their work with tertiary students is also relevant for middle school environments. The precepts of 21st Century Learning (P21, n.d.) fit well within their model, which focuses on collaboration, experiential learning, inquiry and the creative use of technology. Having developed a local understanding of their topics of interest, Indigenous students can connect with students from different cultural contexts through ICT in New Zealand or North America, discovering that they share similar backgrounds, issues, concerns and

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solutions or that perhaps that there are areas specific to the Australian Indigenous experience worth sharing with others. Rather than using the internet for just research, it would be used as a means for sharing the perspectives students have gained with real people across the globe, ensuring it does not become another tool in passive learning but a powerful tool for collective learning. Education must give priority to teaching ethics and global responsibility that go beyond the bounds of the knowledge economy (Sahlberg, 2004). In a knowledge economy, an understanding of ethics and how it applies to different situations becomes an essential tool in working successfully with others. Students will need to develop their character through understanding values and emotions, showing empathy, cultural understanding and responsibility of self and others, becoming active members of a variety of communities in which they work together to achieve long-term goals. The ability to communicate appropriately using the technological tools available across different cultural realms is becoming a highly desirable skill in the world of employment and will only continue to grow in value. While crosscultural education can help us understand our relationship to culture and history, and media literacy provides sensitivity to political, social and cultural differences, new technology is altering our world views and must, therefore, be understood at a critical level. Social media platforms can provide a sense of community and of shared consciousness, providing students with opportunities to speak for themselves by uploading their art, images, writing and achievements. It can become a platform where Indigeneity can be displayed, enacted and performed. Global Connections (Doherty, 2002) promotes the use of social media as a powerful positive tool to explore Indigenous values and identities and engage Indigenous students in authentic learning activities. Skype allows students to connect in a very real way with their peers over great distances, encouraging students to identify as global citizens. Planning discussions and the use of graphic organisers regarding what to share and how to present it serve to avoid the potential pitfall of sharing pure negativity for the sake of it. That is not to say that negative perceptions cannot be shared, but they must have a constructive or thought-provoking purpose and be written in such a way as to elicit thoughtful, creative responses. Computer culture is a discursive and political location in which students can intervene, engaging in discussion groups and collaborative research

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projects, creating their web sites and producing new multimedia for cultural dissemination. (Kellner, 1998, p. 9)

Throughout this initiative, students will need explicit support in learning the socio-cultural skills that will help them communicate effectively with other Indigenous students. Students will need to know how to seek help and information, seeking and offering feedback and being able to express their disagreement to gain a good outcome. These are skills that all students need to be explicitly taught (Devlin, 2013). Research reveals that even subtle cues within the school, such as the active promotion of competitiveness or valuing one cultural style of listening over another, can affect self-concept and even a small intervention aimed at affirming students’ sense of self can help to undermine any negative stereotypes and alleviate the effects of any cultural incongruities (Fryberg, Covarrubias & Barack, 2013). A focus on autonomous thinking or independent learning in the school culture can inadvertently convey to Indigenous students that they do not belong and cannot be successful in a mainstream environment where the typically interdependent learning style of cultural minority groups is not the norm. The type of teaching that is most suited to an independent learning style is still inadvertently encouraged by the curriculum we are mandated to teach. The curriculum is overcrowded with content and can distract educators from the real business of teaching – the creation of possibilities for the production or construction of knowledge (Freire, 1998). It is through fundamental change to the structure of education systems and their requirements for standardised testing unrelated to the real worlds of the students that we can truly be free to teach and learn. This calls for “a more radical shift than incorporating remedial support within existing programs” (Devlin, 2013, p. 946). Learners need to critically frame their learning to make use of it in their own circumstances to transform a situation or way of thinking. The independent, competitive model of education, so favoured in schools, encourages students to separate from their social context and is more suited to the traditional role of the educator.

Summary For students and teachers to gain cultural and personal insights into their relationship to the world and others, they must first be encouraged to explore their own identity within it (Nelson & Hay, 2010). In the global age, we are more and more intricately connected to others and our broader social context. The rapid development of collaborative, cross-cultural

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working environments requires a skill set that is not valued by current education systems as much as it is by employers and by the students themselves. It is a multi-dimensional skill set, not easily tested, not providing comfortable data that can be interpreted and used by governments to match educational and economic policy directions. Critical reflection and one’s thoughtful response to cultural change cannot be measured and given a number, and yet it is an essential, indispensable skill for students in the 21st century. In pointing out that Indigenous students, whilst not a homogenous group, are more likely to be highly experienced in cross-cultural operation and the navigation of different domains than many non-Indigenous students, Martin Nakata, of the New London Group, has challenged us to consider and build on the skills that already exist among the Indigenous populations in working across different cultural and linguistic domains. This is indeed a strength, and there are more productive ways to view learners than through a lens of disadvantage (Nakata, 2001). Global Connections (Doherty, 2002) builds on students’ abilities to communicate effectively in different cultural contexts by using a multiliteracies framework to support them in deconstructing, critiquing and designing texts that suit the purpose and audience for which they are written. The teacher’s role in Global Connections is to enable students to move confidently between different social and cultural domains and engage sensitively with the global community without devaluing or disconnecting from their own lifeworlds (Nakata, 2001). This is, therefore, not a model for transition to mainstream practices, but for extending cultural repertoires. Global Connections does not require students to give up their cultural values and practices in order to be successful. Instead, Indigenous perspectives can be shared and explored without resorting to what can unintentionally become a patronising or token acknowledgement of Indigenous perspectives in schools, recognising that whilst it is important to celebrate a culture, it is of far greater value to see students’ life experiences as valid resources for learning. Rather than “do” Indigenous perspectives as part of the curriculum, Global Connections uses Indigenous students’ experiences as an avenue through which to learn the capabilities and dispositions required to operate successfully in educational contexts. However, culturally responsive pedagogies are not always supported by broader educational practices, and recent curriculum changes have resulted in increasingly prescriptive sets of teaching and learning outcomes to be achieved within time frames that make it difficult for teachers to engage in meaningful research into their classroom

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practices. National testing regimes also impact on teachers’ practice by redirecting their teaching and learning focus (Sleeter, 2011). Nakata’s (2001) work and Doherty’s (2002) pedagogical features for student engagement develop a slightly different perspective on the teaching and learning goals of the Global Connections initiative (Doherty, 2002) and promotes a more positive base from which students can explore global learning and Indigeneity. There is considerable groundwork to be laid for such an initiative to be successful. In particular, teachers will need to develop the technological and cross-cultural skills themselves to be able to lead this initiative. The level of staffing once enjoyed to allow schools to create flexible learning environments and timetables no longer exists. Schools are ideal sites for promoting social change, and although the challenges are great, the most effective avenue for change is through school-based initiatives rather than systemic change, which is too slow and cumbersome to keep up with the world outside of school systems. The change required of education systems cannot happen effectively at a systemic level; it must, by its very nature, be more organic and responsive than a highly structured system can manage. Global Connections (Doherty, 2002) may set the scene for some powerful, challenging changes to learning and it will be important to see the results.

References Alemu, D. S. (2010). Missing: Students’ global outlook. Kappa Delta Pi Record, 46(2), 54-57. Ashman, A. F. (2012). Education for inclusion and diversity. Melbourne: Pearson Education Australia. Banerjee, S. B. & Osuri, G. (2000). Silences of the media: Whiting out aboriginality in making news and making history. Media Culture and Society, 22(3), 263-284. Cope, B. & Kalantzis, M. (Eds.) (2000). Multiliteracies: Literacy learning and the design of social futures. London: Routledge. Cloonan, A. (2005). Professional learning and enacting theory. Or trying to be a lifelong/lifewide teacher-learner while hanging on to your sanity. In M. Kalantzis, B. Cope, & Learning by Design Project Group (Eds.), Learning by design, 217–230. Melbourne: Victorian Schools Innovation Commission & Common Ground. Craven, R. & Marsh, H. (2004). The challenge for counsellors: Understanding and addressing Indigenous secondary students’

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aspirations, self-concepts and barriers to achieving their aspirations. Australian Journal of Guidance and Counselling, 14(1), 16–33. Devlin, M. (2013). Bridging socio-cultural incongruity: Conceptualising the success of students from low socio-economic status backgrounds in Australian higher education. Studies in Higher Education, 38(6), 939949. Doherty, C. (2002). Extending horizons: Critical technology literacy for urban aboriginal students. Journal of Adolescent and Adult Literacy, 46(1), 50-59. Freire, P. (1973). Education for a critical consciousness. New York: Continuum. —. (1993). Pedagogy of the oppressed. New York: Continuum. —. (1998). Pedagogy of freedom: Ethics, democracy and civic courage. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Fryberg, S., Covarrubias, R. & Barack, J. (2013). Cultural models of education and academic performance for Native American and European American students. School Psychology International, 34(4), 439–452. Gorinski, R. & Abernethy, G. (2007). Maori student retention and success: Curriculum, pedagogy and relationships. In T. Townsend & R. Bates (Eds.), Handbook of teacher education: Globalization, standards and professionalism: Teacher education in times of change, 229–240. Dordrecht: Springer. Healy, A. (2004). Multiliteracies pedagogy. Practically Primary, 9(2), 5-7. Hollinsworth, D. (1996). Community development in Indigenous Australia: Self-determination or indirect rule? Community Development Journal, 31(2), 114-125. Jenkins, H., Purushotma, R., Weigel, M., Clinton, K. & Robison, A. J. (2009). Confronting the challenges of participatory culture: Media education for the 21st century. Cambridge, Massachusetts: The MIT Press. Kalantzis, M. & Cope, B. (1984). Multiculturalism and education policy. In G. Bottomley & M. de Lepervanche (Eds.), Ethnicity, class and gender in Australia, 82–97. Sydney: Allen and Unwin. Kalantzis, M. (1987). Opening doors: Keys or sledgehammers? Non-sexist education for a multicultural society. Annandale, NSW: Common Ground. Kellner, D. (1998). Multiple literacies and critical pedagogy in a multicultural society. Educational Theory, 48(1), 103-122. Luke, C. (2003). Pedagogy, connectivity, multimodality, and interdisciplinarity. Reading Research Quarterly, 38(3), 397-403.

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Lynch, J. (1989). Multicultural education in a global society. London: Falmer Press. Nakata, M. (2001). Changing Indigenous curriculum perspectives. Plenary paper presented at the Language and Educators Researchers Network Conference, Spetses, Greece. Retrieved October 20, 2014 from: http://www.nuragili.unsw.edu.au/profilemartinnakata.html/. Nelson, A. & Hay, P. (2010). “I don't want to grow up and not be smart”: Urban Indigenous young people’s perceptions of school. Australian Journal of Indigenous Education, 39(1), 54-64. New London Group. (1996). A pedagogy of multiliteracies: Designing social futures. Harvard Educational Review, 66(1), 60-92. P21 (n.d.). Framework for 21st century learning. Retrieved March 27, 2016 from: http://www.p21.org/our-work/p21-framework. Reutzel, D. R. & Hollingsworth, P. M. (1993). Effects of fluency training on second graders’ reading comprehension. The Journal of Educational Research, 86(6), 325-331. Rosebery Middle School (n.d.). Homepage. Retrieved March 23, 2016 from: http://roseberymiddle.nt.edu.au/. Sahlberg, P. (2004). Teaching and globalization. Managing Global Transitions, 2(1), 65-83. Short, D. (2003). Reconciliation, assimilation, and the Indigenous peoples of Australia. International Political Science Review, 24(4), 491-513. —. (2005). Reconciliation and the problem of internal colonialism. Journal of Intercultural Studies, 26(3), 267-282. Sleeter, C. (2011). Professional development for culturally responsive and relationship-based pedagogy. New York: Peter Lang. Stanley, K. & Plaza, D. (2002). No passport required: An action learning approach to teaching about globalization. Teaching Sociology, 30(1), 89-99. Yeung, A., Craven, R. & Jinnat, A. (2013). Self-concepts and educational outcomes of Indigenous Australian students in urban and rural school settings. School Psychology International, 34(4), 405-427.

CAPACITY-BUILDING APPROACHES FOR TEACHERS IN REMOTE NORTHERN TERRITORY SCHOOLS: CHALLENGES AND OPPORTUNITIES KATRINA RAILTON CHARLES DARWIN UNIVERSITY, AUSTRALIA

Abstract This chapter approaches the preparation of remote Northern Territory (NT) teachers from a capacity-building perspective and offers a critical review of the literature on what is agreed to be best practice. The chapter identifies opportunities for reflection on how teachers in complex cross-cultural education settings can be supported to build connections that result in positive outcomes for all stakeholders. This examination is necessary if our forms of engagement that relate and respond to community-specific contexts are to result in the growth of local social and cultural capital (Bourdieu, 1991). These areas of growth are the hallmarks of a healthy community and the processes supporting this growth are referred to as capacity-building.

Introduction The factors that impact on the quality and resilience of educators in remote Northern Territory (NT) schools are well known. These factors include (but are by no means restricted to) access to preparatory information, contextualised inductions and ongoing professional learning opportunities (DoE, NT, n.d.; 2012). This chapter is a preliminary investigation, using research, about what remote NT teachers need to “know and do”. It explores this through a capacity-building lens and reviews best-practice models to effectively supporting new recruits. 

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The most obvious recurring themes that arise include the complexity of cross-cultural contexts and importance of relationships and communication. As the majority of students enrolled in remote NT schools are Indigenous, there is a strong emphasis on how capacity-building approaches for the teachers in these schools cater for Indigenous student needs. As a resident of the Northern Territory who has been involved in remote education for nearly twenty years, I have both personal and professional interests that are informing the focus of this work. For the purpose of this chapter, I propose to isolate just one of the factors impacting on the quality and resilience of teachers in remote NT schools, i.e. professional learning support for teacher recruits who are unfamiliar with remote NT contexts. This project is limited in its scope and is considered a work in progress. The analysis of available literature is restricted to what is publicly available, and ideas shared by remote education stakeholders are based on my existing networks and previous collaboration experiences. The methodology used for this project sought to synthesise understandings from the current literature, personal experience and anecdotal observations from various stakeholder exchanges over the years about what are effective teaching approaches in remote NT communities and how these are best supported. Information and concepts of social capital theory, Indigenous education and intercultural collaboration competencies are brought together in an effort to better understand the complex interplay of the remote teacher’s roles that are embedded in remote schools and community cultures. The literature is reviewed here and accumulated advice from remote education stakeholders is incorporated into construction of a deeper understanding about the relevance of building social capital in remote contexts. The chapter explores methods for supporting teachers in crosscultural collaboration, and this is important so that teachers are conscious of, and prepared for, the essential threads of living and working in remote communities. This chapter has been prepared for an Australian audience, with an assumed knowledge of national and state initiatives. However, the chapter includes themes and ideas that are also relevant to an international audience. These themes shape the organisation of the chapter and include:

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1. Intercultural complexities in remote teaching environments. 2. Place-based approaches to engagement in remote education settings. 3. Factors influencing social and educational equality in remote schools. 4. The role of teachers in contributing to social capital. 5. A multi-layered approach to support for continuous improvement.

Intercultural Complexities in Remote Teaching Environments In the Northern Territory, 73 percent of the 152 government schools are in remote or very remote areas (DoE, NT, 2013). All areas outside the capital of Darwin are considered remote or very remote. As remote NT schools are predominantly located in Indigenous community settings, it is pertinent to explore the intercultural spaces of these communities and the education system that provides a service to the communities. The way in which teachers work to achieve improvements in educational outcomes in these cross-cultural settings is a complex social and cultural process. The spaces created when working with both Western and Indigenous knowledge systems are entwined with the cultural values, beliefs and behaviours of all participants. Nakata (as cited in Kearney, McIntosh, Perry, Dockett & Clayton, 2014) suggests that Indigenous people are generally better equipped than non-Indigenous people to mediate between knowledge systems in these contexts, as working between them is something they have experienced from a very young age. For non-Indigenous people this negotiation between different knowledge systems is less familiar, given that cultural practices that are aligned to the privilege of Western frameworks of knowledge often go unquestioned. Non-Indigenous people therefore need to work both to make explicit their historical understandings and to become more familiar with Indigenous ways of knowing. It is important, however, that any approaches to enacting this recommendation do not represent either Indigenous or Western knowledge systems as singular and, in turn, represent the two systems as dichotomous. (Kearney et al., 2014, p. 3)

Research indicates that “most teachers who work in remote Indigenous communities are from white, middle-class urban environments and have had little interaction with people of other ethnicities” (Brasche, 2014). It is perhaps not surprising then that data from the research of Kearney et al.

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(2014, p. 3) reveals that “non-Indigenous teachers are not always wellequipped, in terms of their knowledge base or previous experiences, to teach Indigenous children or make positive connections with Indigenous communities”. Considering that the knowledge that informs people’s actions is mostly implicit suggests that exploring different ways of knowing requires an explicit effort to identify and discuss differences, if the aim is to avoid the notion of difference becoming an obstacle to educational engagement (Kearney et al., 2014, p. 11). To achieve this engagement, teachers working in complex cross-cultural environments must be supported to reconceptualise ideas of pedagogy through an exploration of different ways of knowing as well as critiquing their own assumptions about their roles as educators (Kearney et al., 2014, p. 12).

Place-based Approaches to Engagement in Remote Education Settings There are many resources available with general advice for teachers working in Indigenous communities in Australia, such as What works – Improving outcomes for Indigenous students (National Curriculum Services & Australian Curriculum Studies Association, n.d.), Dare to lead (Principals Australia Institute, n.d.), Teaching and learning in Aboriginal education (Harrison, 2011) and Working with Aboriginal communities (NSW Board of Studies, 2008). These and other resources all stress the need for collaboration between schools and communities to provide effective learning environments for students. They offer guidance around consultation protocols and ways of working while recognising that each “cultural, geographic and linguistic context has different elements, belief structures, ways of working and values” (Guenther & Osborne, 2013, p. 113). The underlying message in most resources for teachers in remote community education settings is that when they position themselves as learners and are genuinely interested in generating shared understandings, they are more likely to engage positively with the community and experience success with students than if they do not. Guenther and Osborne (2013, p. 120) believe that to enable such engagement, “educators need to reframe their thinking in terms of place-based approaches”.

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Factors Influencing Social and Educational Equality in Remote Schools Guenther and Osborne (2013, p. 115) also suggest that these “place-based” or context-driven teaching practices require “engaging in a process that explicitly teaches the implicit social norms and logic of the curriculum and the knowledge systems that underpin educational success”. They believe that this approach will go some way toward the distribution of social and educational equality. An effective implementation of these understandings in classrooms is determined by pedagogy. De Lissovoy (as cited in Kearney et al., 2014) suggests that pedagogy should be something that is shared and generated between teachers, children, families and communities. In this way “pedagogical authority is re-conceptualised as pedagogy in common” which leads to “relationships and dialogue as well as different knowledge systems [being] recognised as equal contributors to the educational success of a child” (Kearney et al., 2014, p. 2). Balatti, Black and Falk (2009, p. 23) also focus on classroom practice and pedagogy in their five sets of strategies from which to draw on to illustrate the process of building social capital. They include: x strategies that teachers use to encourage students to develop bonding, bridging and linking ties; x ways in which teachers build relationships with their learners; x strategies that teachers use to encourage peer learning; x ways in which teachers engage in collaborative teaching; x ways in which literacy and numeracy learning can be integrated or embedded in other activities. These reinforce the importance of networking and linking opportunities with students and colleagues, and are widely promoted as recommended approaches in much of the literature on Indigenous education. These approaches align with what are considered the building blocks of social capital.

The Role of Teachers in Contributing to Social Capital Balatti, Black and Falk (2007) found in their study that what teachers do to build social capital also reflects the Australian Bureau of Statistics’

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distinctions of elements pertaining to social capital, including trustworthiness, acceptance, communication, relationships, support, sharing and linking (ABS, 2004). In further expansion of the idea of “capital”, Gendron (2004) identifies and describes cultural capital as an important bridge for these elements of social capital. According to Gendron (2004, p. 7), cultural capital promotes “partnerships, cooperation and intercultural understanding, builds community connections and enhances community identity”. Broadbent, Boyle and Carmody (2007, p. 2) suggest that recognition of the cultural capital that Indigenous students bring to their schools can work effectively to build strong home-school-community partnerships, which in turn strengthen student engagement in schooling and the learning process. Approaches to teaching that emphasise the value of Indigenous cultural capital, such as those described in Strong teachers (Murphy & Railton, 2013), align with this suggestion by providing examples of how local knowledge systems are embedded in quality teacher practice. For teachers to have the capacity to genuinely engage with the cultural capital of others in this way requires self-awareness, the appreciation of the influence of their own cultural context, and openness to the development of new understandings. Respect and understanding have been described in some texts as pertaining to emotional capital. Gendron (2004) suggests that it is emotional capital that enables the development of social and cultural capital. He believes that “emotional intelligence is the ability to sense, understand and effectively apply the power and acumen of emotions as a source of energy, information, creativity, trust and connection” (p. 7). Considering the complexity of intercultural contexts, the capacity for teachers to maintain their own emotional wellbeing is of utmost importance. For this to happen they need to be able to access relevant support; maintain a sense of agency, efficacy and self-worth; and uphold a clear perspective of their own place in context. In addition to their emotional wellbeing, teachers in remote NT schools can make use of national, Territory and local community resources to improve both personal and community socioeconomic wellbeing. As with all other aspects of social capital building, this must be carried out in such a way that acknowledges and values the contributions of all stakeholders through engagement in “open, exploratory and creative inquiry in the difficult intersections” (Nakata, Nakata, Kreech & Bolt, 2012, p. 121) that exist in such a collaborative approach. Nakata et al. (2012, p. 121) suggest

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that this approach engages “the politics of knowledge production and builds critical skills” that promote a “re-imagining of the possibilities and hope for the future of remote students”. The most prevalent recurring theme in the literature reviewed for this chapter was the importance of effective communication and genuine relationships in complex cross-cultural education settings. Educators are constantly reminded that each community has context-specific social, cultural and political influences that when seen as the building blocks of social capital may be used by teachers to inform and enhance remote educational settings. This suggests that to best prepare teachers for working in remote NT schools, the information, experiences and resources provided must identify these important threads as priority areas of focus within their roles and responsibilities.

A Multi-layered Approach to Support Continuous Improvement For teachers to work effectively in remote communities as builders of social capital, publicly available material (such as web-based and recruitment information) should be provided with overarching guidance regarding the implications of effective communication and relationshipdriven approaches to life and work in these contexts. Accurate information about geographic locations, cultures, languages and access to services should accompany role descriptions that include engaging with community and collaborating with colleagues. This level of information will support prospective remote teaching staff in making informed and realistic decisions regarding whether to enter this field of work. It is appropriate for the next layer of detail to include system level expectations and support systems, which can be addressed in recruitment materials and reinforced at centralised orientation events. Whilst these may be heavily influenced by existing policies and institutionalised processes, social capital thinking can influence how these are approached – even if the policies and processes do not specifically align. For example, policy may dictate the need for a performance management process, but an overview of this process could focus on collegial support and innovative access to networking opportunities to fulfill requirements. Relationships and communication channels with human resource and curriculum support networks can also be clarified and demystified at this point. Opportunities for new recruits to meet and talk with these teams to connect real people

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with the processes may promote positive future interactions and lead to proactive use of available centralised resources. These system-wide sessions are opportunities for the sharing of insights from experienced remote educators regarding the influences of geographic locations, cultures and languages, as well as expectations around engagement with parents and community. At a regional level, a similar approach can apply with a focus on regionalised information and support resources. Regionalised sessions have the potential to provide initial linking opportunities for teacher recruits to share developing understandings of their role, engage in ongoing professional dialogue and establish connections for continuous support. Providing supported opportunities to reconnect at a regional level – in particular during the first year of teaching in the NT – may be the key to success for some recruits. As well as establishing networks, these regionalised sessions can provide information specific to the area, including language and culture specifics. Whilst no two communities will be the same, there are groups of communities that share language and culture similarities and are linked both relationally and geographically. A general understanding of these connections is beneficial for new recruits as a precursor to receiving a specific local orientation conducted in the community. Local orientations are most significant to new teachers as it is within this space that the community context can be explored with local guides. An introduction to the school culture with a focus on team planning, teaching and learning together can be included, with explicit links to community engagement and protocols. To ensure consistency and clarity, it is appropriate for education systems to collaborate with remote school leaders to develop guiding frameworks for local inductions and ongoing professional learning opportunities. These must be sufficiently broad to enable the integration of context specific requirements, and they must also be clear about the essential involvement of community members in these processes. Sustainable, supported processes for local mentoring and engagement in professional learning communities can provide vital opportunities for the development of shared understandings. A strong focus on inclusion is particularly important in initial stages for new teachers, while relationships are formed. This idea is supported in Jensen’s (2014) Making time for great teaching research, which suggests that quality is best achieved when teachers learn from each other through active collaboration opportunities

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(p. 3). Jensen (2014) and Lynch (2014) agree that these collaborative opportunities must be catered for by leaders in schools and have a time allocation for professional learning. Creating supportive environments for cross-cultural teaching teams leads to improvements for both staff and students. This is enhanced where there is support for the development of relationships that are conducive to giving and receiving constructive feedback. Such support leads to reflective practice and follow-up actions that promote the culture of ongoing professional learning embedded in teacher practice.

The Roles of Remote Education Stakeholders in Capacity-building Approaches for Teachers Successful preparation and ongoing support of teachers in remote NT schools to provide appropriate pedagogical practices and engage in effective partnerships will inevitably impact on all stakeholders. The results of this can contribute to remote school students being engaged and experiencing success. Curriculum content can be accessed through quality school programs that are contextually relevant and delivered by teaching teams that are well equipped to cater for all learners. Remote community members play an important role in this approach. Schools benefit from active involvement of local people in supporting staff to access resources that enable them to engage students in quality education. For this to happen they must be involved in whole school planning and decision-making initiatives in relation to community context, and the knowledge systems they share must be valued with sincerity. Utilising all learning opportunities previously described, the remote teacher workforce will be effectively prepared with realistic expectations for living and working in remote contexts prior to arrival. They will be familiar with the requirements of the system, the school and the local community, which will result in effectively catering for learners using culturally and contextually responsive pedagogies. They will need to utilise team planning and teaching opportunities to engage students in programs that are learner-focused and promote engagement with the local community in alignment with year-level appropriate content and concepts. This will be reinforced through mentoring and collaborative opportunities that engage in professional dialogue and reflection of practice for continual improvement of quality teacher practice.

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For remote-school-based initiatives to be effective, the principals in these settings require capacity and capabilities to support the orientation and ongoing development of teachers. They must have (or develop) leadership skills that enable quality, contextualised, evidence-based practices and the equipping of all stakeholders with the tools they need to succeed. This should not happen in isolation, but rather with the support of regional staff within the education system. Centralised support systems and staff also play a vital role. They are the drivers that can ensure recruitment and web information is updated with contextually relevant guiding material regarding requirements and conditions for living and working in remote schools. They can guide and support quality evidence-based professional learning opportunities for remote school staff and continually investigate streamlined, structured professional learning accessible via a variety of learning platforms. They can ensure that there are systems and processes in place to gather data for monitoring and evaluating remote workforce capabilities to inform future planning for ongoing professional learning needs.

Influential Factors Impacting on Teacher Capacity The analysis of information collected as part of this research revealed a set of influential factors that affect teacher capacity to contribute to building the social capital of remote NT communities. These are represented as functional, social, cultural, emotional and political aspects of the role of teachers in this context, as synthesised in Table 1. How can teachers contribute to the social capital of remote NT communities? Question: What is the role of teachers in remote NT schools? Functional aspects

Findings: It is essential that teachers in remote NT schools attend to contextually appropriate pedagogical practices and partnerships in ways that build on the networks and resources of all stakeholders.

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Social aspects

Cultural aspects

Findings: Integral to all social components of teaching in remote NT contexts is the establishment of relationships based on trust developed over time. These relationships are dependent on the use of effective communication through respectful interactions, and are strongly influenced by existing links between schools and communities. Question: What cultural factors impact on teaching in remote NT schools? Findings: Intercultural competencies are vital for quality teacher practices that demonstrate Australian Professional Standards for Teachers (AITSL, 2012), with consideration of links between the local community, culture and country. This requires self-understanding, appreciation of the influence of one’s own cultural context and openness to new understandings. Question: What emotional factors impact on teaching in remote NT schools?

Emotional aspects

Findings: It is important for teachers in remote NT schools to have the capacity to access relevant support; maintain a sense of agency, efficacy and self-worth; and uphold a clear perspective of their place in context. Question: What political factors impact on teaching in remote NT schools?

Political aspects

Findings: Teachers in remote NT schools can utilise national, Territory and local community resources to improve both personal and community socioeconomic wellbeing. This must be carried out in ways that acknowledge and value the contributions of all stakeholders through the use of appropriate protocols that promote genuine intercultural exchanges.

Table 1. Overview of how teachers can contribute to the social capital of remote NT communities.

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The observations identified in Table 1 can be used as a reference checklist to analyse current professional learning resources for remote teachers to help identify the social capital enablers that have been addressed or omitted, and their capacities. Evaluations of this kind can influence development of support resources for newly recruited remote teachers that are not only of benefit to them, but also of benefit to the communities in which they will be engaged.

Conclusion Investigation into what remote NT teachers need to “know and do” through a social capital lens to inform future planning of professional learning resources for this stakeholder group has highlighted the importance of relationships and communication in complex cross-cultural educational environments. New recruits beginning teaching in remote NT communities must be prepared and supported for engaging in unfamiliar cultural contexts to ensure that they are equipped to contribute to the community and the school where they teach. This requires a better understanding of the functional, social, cultural, emotional and political factors that impact on the process of building the social capital of remote NT communities. The evidence presented in this chapter suggests that all stakeholders can influence and be influenced by the positive effects of capacity building for quality teachers in remote NT schools.

References ABS (Australian Bureau of Statistics). (2004). Measuring social capital: An Australian framework and indicators. Retrieved October 27, 2015 from: http://www.ausstats.abs.gov.au/ausstats/free.nsf/Lookup/13C0688F6B 98DD45CA256E360077D526/$File/13780_2004.pdf. AITSL (Australian Institute for Teaching and School Leadership). (2012) Australian Professional Standards for Teachers. Education Services Australia. Retrieved November 3, 2015 from: http://www.aitsl.edu.au/australian-professional-standards-for-teachers. Balatti, J., Black, S. & Falk, I. (2007). Teaching for social capital outcomes: The case of adult literacy and numeracy courses. Australian Journal of Adult Learning 47(2), 245-63. —. (2009). A new social capital paradigm for adult literacy: Partnerships, policy and pedagogy. Adelaide: NCVER.

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Bourdieu, P. (1991). Language and symbolic power. Cambridge: Polity Press. Brasche, I. (2014). Humanising the bureaucracy: Strategies to ensure teacher quality and continuity in remote Aboriginal communities. Presentation at a postgraduate research symposium. Darwin: International Graduate Centre of Education, Charles Darwin University. Broadbent, C., Boyle, M. & Carmody, M. (2007). Building social and cultural capital within the Indigenous community. Canberra: Australian Catholic University. DoE, NT (Department of Education, Northern Territory). (n.d.) Teaching in remote communities. Retrieved October 27, 2015 from: http://www.teaching.nt.gov.au/remote/index.cfm?attributes.fuseaction= about-the-remote-teaching-service. —. (2012). Teacher responsibilities guide. Retrieved October 27, 2015 from: http://www.education.nt.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0012/31710/Tea cherResponsibilitiesGuide.pdf. —. (2013). Creating success together: 2013-2015 strategic plan. Retrieved October 27, 2015 from: http://www.education.nt.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0013/39010/Stra tegic-plan-2015-key-actions.pdf. Gendron, B. (2004). Why emotional capital matters in education and in labour? (Les Cahiers de la Maison des Sciences Economiques, série rouge, No. 113.) Paris: Université Panthéon-Sorbonne. Retrieved October 27, 2015 from: http://halshs.archives-ouvertes.fr/docs/ 00/20/12/23/PDF/B-Gendron-emotional-capital-article04-signatureactualisee05.pdf. Guenther, J. & Osborne, S. (2013). Red dirt thinking on power, pedagogy and paradigms: Reframing the dialogue in remote education. The Australian Journal of Indigenous Education. 42(2), 111-122. Harrison, N. (2011). Teaching and learning in Aboriginal education. South Melbourne, Vic.: Oxford University Press. Jensen, B. (2014). Making time for great teaching. [Carlton, Vic.:] Grattan Institute. Kearney, E., McIntosh, L., Perry, B., Dockett, S. & Clayton, K. (2014). Building positive relationships with Indigenous children, families and communities: Learning at the cultural interface. Critical Studies in Education, 55(3), 338-352.

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Lynch, D. (2014). Improving teaching through coaching, mentoring and feedback: A review of literature. Journal of Educational Studies, Trends and Practices, 4(2), 136-166. Murphy, J. & Railton, K. (2013). Strong teachers: Remote Indigenous educators demonstrate connections with community, culture, country and the Australian Professional Standards for Teachers. Batchelor, NT: Batchelor Press. Nakata, M., Nakata, V., Kreech, S. & Bolt, R. (2012). Decolonial goals and pedagogies for Indigenous studies. Indigeneity, Education and Society, 1(1), 120-140. NSW Board of Studies. (2008) Working with Aboriginal communities. (Rev. ed.). Retrieved October 27, 2015 from http://abed.bostes.nsw.edu.au/files/working-with-aboriginal-communities.pdf. National Curriculum Services & Australian Curriculum Studies Association. (n.d.). What works – Improving outcomes for Indigenous students. Retrieved October 27, 2015 from http://www.whatworks.edu.au/dbAction.do?cmd=homePage. Principals Australia Institute. (n.d.). Dare to lead. Retrieved October 27, 2015 from: http://www.daretolead.edu.au.

THEME 3 – WELLBEING SUSTAINABILITY AND GLOBALISATION

STRENGTHENING THE FOUNDATIONS OF LEARNING: INVESTING IN EARLY CHILDHOOD DEVELOPMENT SVEN SILBURN CENTRE FOR CHILD DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION, MENZIES SCHOOL OF HEALTH RESEARCH, CHARLES DARWIN UNIVERSITY, AUSTRALIA

Abstract Investment in policies, programs and practices optimising children’s early brain development has lifelong benefits for individuals, families and society. While decades of child development research and large-scale longitudinal studies have shown this to be true, more recent advances in the neurodevelopmental sciences and epigenetics highlight just how important this is to be better reflected in the policy priorities of governments and the design and delivery of child health, family and early childhood education services. Since the mapping of the human genome and the more recent development of epigenetic science, it is now understood that the psycho-social and physical environments of child rearing have a far greater influence on the way genes are expressed than previously realised. This is especially the case in the early years of life, when the rate of brain development is greater than it is at any other time in a person’s life. This chapter discusses how these new understandings of human development are being acted upon by governments and international agencies, such as the WHO, UNICEF and the World Bank. This includes discussion of the long-term benefits which early child development and care (ECDC) programs can have on children’s school learning and their health and wellbeing later in life.

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Introduction The value of investing to ensure that every child gets the best start in life is increasingly evident to governments around the world (Young & Richardson, 2007). This was recognised by the Australian Government’s 2006 National Reform Agenda, including an agreement for a focus on early child development as a priority area of reform for Australia’s future health (for the prevention of chronic diseases in adulthood), capability and economic prosperity (improved education, skills and productivity). This allocated substantial new funding for the implementation of a national early childhood development strategy (Australian Government, 2009), which has been seen as a long-term investment in building the nation’s human capital. It is also an acknowledgement that, for countries to be competitive in the knowledge-intensive global economy of the 21st century, it is vital that their policy makers and service providers take account of the strength of evidence showing the many long-term benefits of investment in early childhood development (COAG, 2006). Not only does investing to support and strengthen all aspects of early childhood development bring long-term benefits to children over the course of their lives, this also has benefits for the community and society as a whole. It is for this reason that policy investments aiming to ensure that all children get the best possible start in life are now considered to be the most effective poverty alleviation strategies available to governments and creating a fairer society (WHO, 2008; Hertzman, 2004; Bammer, Michaux & Sanson, 2010; O'Connell, Boat & Warner, 2009; Center on the Developing Child at Harvard University, 2007). A number of major international reports have recently been published bringing together the research evidence that underpins arguments for investment in the early years of life (New Economic Foundation, 2009; Marmot et al., 2010). The evidence reviewed in these reports bring together four converging strands of evidence: First, recent advances in brain research, epigenetics and the cognitive, behavioural and social sciences have brought new understandings of how healthy child development happens, how it can be derailed and what societies can do to keep it on track. This research has helped to explain how children’s early life experiences shape the basic architecture of the developing brain and why this has important implications for health and human capability over the life course (Center on the Developing Child at Harvard University, 2010). Second, ecologically-based, longitudinal

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studies conclusively demonstrate the long-term effects of children’s family, community and early learning environments for their health and wellbeing later in life (Australian Institute of Family Studies, 2006; Centre for Longitudinal Studies, 2010; Landry, Smith, Swank & Guttentag, 2008; McCain, Mustard & Shanker, 2007; Newnham & Landau, 2010; Shonkoff, 2010). These studies show that children’s socioeconomic and physical environments of childrearing and their relationships (e.g. with parents, families and other caregivers) all matter a great deal for their healthy development and for their educational and longer-term life outcomes. Third, developments in prevention science have enabled the effective implementation and scaling up of evidence-based programs to achieve population-level improvements in children’s developmental outcomes (Karoly, Kilburn & Cannon, 2005). Fourth, economic studies of the costs and benefits of the systematic implementation of proven early childhood programs with families, schools and communities have quantified the longer-term economic and social benefits of such early childhood programs. All four of these strands of evidence indicate the need for a more effective balance between investments in “upstream” preventive and early intervention services and the “downstream” costs of treatment or remediation later in the life-course (Heckman, 2008; Moore, 2008).

New Understandings of Healthy Development The availability of new methods of brain imaging, such as functional magnetic resonance imaging, has enabled detailed mapping of the neural circuitry or “wiring” of the brain. Research discoveries in the new science of epigenetics have also brought dramatic new insights into the molecular and genetic processes through which the child’s early experiences play a critical role in shaping the nature and quality of the brain’s developing architecture and function (Restak, 2001). Around one-quarter of our overall brain development occurs before birth. The future brain and nervous system first become apparent at around 3 to 4 weeks of development (O'Connel, Boat & Warner, 2009). Figure 2 (later) shows the key brain structures linked through the limbic system (O'Connel et al., 2009). At this early stage, new brain cells (neurons) are forming at a rate of more than 250,000 per minute. This rapid neuronal growth continues throughout the pregnancy so that by the time of birth the number of neurons is well over a billion (Shonkoff & Phillips, 2000). From about the eighth week of development, neurons also begin to become more specialised and start sending out multiple branches to form

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an intricate pattern of connections with other neurons in different regions of the brain (Shonkoff & Phillips, 2000).

Prenatal Influences on Brain Development The development of the child’s brain during gestation is particularly sensitive to the mother’s health, nutrition and environmental circumstances. Alcohol and other drug use during pregnancy have long been known to be detrimental to an unborn child’s development. More recently, large-scale population studies have confirmed that maternal smoking during pregnancy is a very important risk factor for infant survival, for sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS), and for infant and child respiratory health, as well as having an impact on infant and longer-term sleeping patterns, intellectual development and behaviour—particularly disruptive behaviour disorders and attention difficulties (Langley, Holmans, van den Bree & Thapar, 2010, p. 525; Breslau, Paneth, Lucia & Paneth-Pollak, 2005). There is conclusive evidence showing that maternal alcohol consumption has significant effects on foetal brain development and children’s subsequent cognitive and behavioural outcomes. The extent of the symptoms of foetal alcohol syndrome and foetal alcohol spectrum disorders depends on the timing and frequency of maternal drinking, the amount of alcohol consumed and the stage of foetal development at the time of consumption. Though the severity of the damage depends on all these factors, no safe threshold of alcohol use has been found, and the medical recommendation is that no alcohol be consumed during pregnancy. Even small amounts can cause brain damage that can affect the child for life (Talge, Neal & Glover, 2007; O’Leary, 2002). Foetal alcohol syndrome and foetal alcohol spectrum disorders are now understood to be some of the most frequent causes of intellectual impairment. Children, adolescents and adults with foetal alcohol syndrome and foetal alcohol spectrum disorders have poor judgement, poor social perception, a lack of impulse control and the inability to predict the consequences of their behaviour, and thus they have a greatly increased likelihood of finding themselves in trouble with the law. USA and Canadian studies indicate that adults with foetal alcohol spectrum disorders are a much larger proportion of the prison population than of the general population. The disability of prisoners with foetal alcohol spectrum disorders also means that they are generally less likely to

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benefit either from rehabilitation or deterrent offered by incarceration (Guerri, Bazinet & Riley, 2009; Stad, Ungar, Stevens, Beyen, & Koren, 2006). These are all compelling reasons for ensuring that maternal health and family support services take a proactive approach to providing preventive counselling on the risks of alcohol in pregnancy and that more strenuous efforts be made to improve community understanding of the national guidelines on alcohol use during pregnancy (NHMRC, 2009). High levels of stress experienced by the mother also affect the unborn child’s brain development. Where a mother is exposed to high levels of stress during pregnancy (caused by inadequate housing, food insecurity, or family violence), her child is much more likely to experience later emotional or cognitive problems, including attention deficit-hyperactivity disorders, as well as anxiety and language delay. This effect has been shown to be separate from the effects of maternal postnatal depression and anxiety (Van de Bergh, Mulder, Mennes & Glover, 2005; Goodman & Rouse, 2010). Where pregnant women are exposed to very intense or multiple stresses, this can result in overproduction of the stress hormone cortisol. The unborn child’s exposure to high levels of this hormone in the womb has been shown to not only slow the rate at which new neurons are produced but also to influence selectively the way in which the brain’s stress response system develops, predisposing the child to higher levels of impulsivity and emotional overreaction (Goodman & Rouse, 2010). Between 7 and 20% of pregnant women experience antenatal depression, which is as common as the wider known condition, postnatal depression. It is also less well recognised due to the symptoms of depression developing gradually and because symptoms such as fatigue are also common during most pregnancies (Goodman & Rouse, 2010). Children whose mothers have experienced pre- and post-natal depression have been shown to be associated with having increased likelihood of problems in many aspects of cognitive and behavioural functioning and increased susceptibility to the later development of depression and other disorders. These problems range from affective and interpersonal functioning to brain and neuroendocrine (hormonal) abnormalities (Lupien, McEwen, Gunnar & Heim, 2009).

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Brain Development During Infancy and Early Childhood A child’s brain grows from around one-quarter the size of the adult brain at birth to two-thirds the size of the adult brain by age three. Over this period, there is a surge in the formation of new neurons (brain cells) and their branching out to form connections with other neurons (synapses). Around 700 new synapses are estimated to be formed every second during this period of maximum growth and development of skills (Shonkoff & Phillips, 2000). By age three years the human brain has more neurones and synapses than it will have at any other stage in life. Then two other processes in brain development become more active. First, the pathways between brain cells which make up the brain circuits associated with specific brain functions tend to be strengthened and retained as they are activated by the child’s experience and behaviour. At the same time, the neuronal connections which are infrequently activated are selectively eliminated or “pruned” in a “use it or lose it” manner. From the age of around three years, the overall number of neurons in the brain and their synaptic connections progressively declines. This interaction of the child’s biology with their conditions and experiences of child rearing – particularly before age five years – literally shapes the brain circuitry which forms the foundation for all subsequent health, behaviour and learning (Shonkoff & Phillips, 2000). Brain development begins with the simplest circuits vital for survival being built first, and then moving on to more complex circuits such as those that underpin adaptive (intelligent) functioning. Every new skill the child develops is built upon the skills that came before. Sensory pathways, like those for basic vision and hearing, are the first to develop, followed by early language skills and then more complex cognitive functions such as reasoning. While genes determine the order in which new brain cells develop, branch out and connect to different areas of the brain, the child’s experience of its environment also plays a key role in how this process unfolds and whether specific brain circuits become strong or weak.

Environmental Influences Shaping Early Brain Development One of the most important early ingredients in this developmental process is the “two-way” reciprocal relationship of emotional engagement

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between children and their parents or other caregivers. From early infancy, children develop in an environment of relationships and naturally reach out for interaction through babbling, facial expressions and gestures. Parents and other adults typically respond with the same kind of vocalising and gesturing back at them. As these relationships extend into other child care settings, children develop best when the caring adults around them respond in warm, individually responsive and stimulating ways (Eschel, Daelmans, de Mello & Martines, 2006; Richter, 2004). In contrast, when the environment is impoverished, neglectful, unpredictable or abusive, these challenges provoke the child’s stressresponse resulting in the brain being flooded with stress hormones such as cortisol. This has been shown to disrupt the normal pattern of neuronal growth and to strengthen the connections between the neuronal synapses associated with the neurophysiological and hormonal aspects of the stress response. In other words, extreme or chronic stress can literally shape the anatomical architecture of how the child’s brain develops. This can have long-term effects evident in impairments in attention, learning, behaviour and health (Shonkoff & Phillips, 2000). There is also a growing body of research evidence showing that the detrimental effects of such stresses can be buffered by the prompt, contingent and appropriate responsiveness of the child’s mother or another primary caregiver. The protective nature of appropriately responsive parenting in early childhood has long-term consequences for the child’s sense of emotional security. This occurs through its effects in shaping the self-regulatory circuits of the child’s developing brain, which are predominantly established in the years before a child commences school. These benefits include better ability to focus and main attention, capacity for self-regulating strong emotions, language and cognitive development and psychosocial maturity. Importantly, it has also been shown to afford protection from chronic disease in adult life as well as reducing the risk of early mortality (Eschel, Daelmans, de Mello & Martines, 2006; Richter, 2004).

Sensitive Periods of Development Neuroscience and experimental psychology have described sensitive periods for the development of different brain functions (e.g. binocular vision, emotional control, language and various cognitive abilities) and their brain circuits. The neural connections in the areas of the brain

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associated with these functions proliferate at different times. During these critical periods, the “use it or lose it” process of synaptic pruning is especially important. Where the child’s environment provides the right kind of stimulation at the right time, the child’s development is optimised, and it is much easier for the child to acquire certain skills. For example, by the first year, the parts of the brain that recognise the difference between different vocal sounds are becoming specialised to the language(s) the baby hears in its family of child-rearing. At the same time, it is beginning to lose the ability to recognise important sound distinctions that occur in other languages (Restak, 2001). Because the brain prunes away the circuits that are not used, those that are used become stronger and increasingly difficult to alter over time. This reduction in plasticity, or ability of the brain to grow and change in response to its environmental circumstances, means that the early childhood years offer the ideal time to provide the experiences that shape healthy brain circuits. It also means that it is easier and more effective to influence a baby’s developing brain architecture than it is to rewire parts of its circuitry later in childhood or adolescence. In other words, we can “pay now” by ensuring positive conditions for healthy development, or “pay more later” in the form of costly educational remediation, health care, mental health services and increased rates of incarceration (Shonkoff & Phillips, 2000).

Stress and the Developing Brain Recent international research shows that adults who have had traumatic stress in their lives as children show earlier signs of ageing and premature death (Gunnar & Quevedo, 2007), more depression and higher risks for attempted and completed suicide (Afifi, Enns, Cox, Asmundson, Stein & Sareen, 2008), more cardiovascular disease (Dong, Giles, Felitti, Dube, Williams, Chapman et al., 2004), as well as increased risks for substance abuse (Afifi et al., 2008; Koss et al., 2003), insulin resistance and type II diabetes (Tamayo, Christian & Rathmann, 2010). Further, there is robust evidence that specific prolonged stresses, such as abuse as a child, raises the risks of depression, suicide, and substance abuse and reduces the body’s immune response and resistance to infections (Tamayo et al., 2010; Bowlby, 1951). When children are exposed to intense or overly frequent stressors, stress hormones are produced at high levels, and these affect the developing brain significantly through the rate at which new neurons are produced and how they connect up with each other.

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Children with continuing high levels of stress hormones, such as adrenaline and cortisol, have an increased risk of developing longer-term dysfunction of their self-regulatory “stress response” system (Anda et al., 2006). One such atypical stress response is where an individual develops an autonomic nervous system “over-reaction” pattern. These children characteristically over-respond to frustration or external provocation (e.g. increased heart rate, raised blood pressure or heightened aggressive reactions). This pattern of over-arousal can be evident from an early age and is now known to be a major risk factor in later behavioural and mental health problems, as well as adult cardiovascular disease. Another common pattern of stress response dysregulation is where the body’s arousal to stress becomes unusually prolonged, e.g. the stress response has difficulty “switching off”. These individuals show a pattern of response to stress where blood cortisol levels take much longer to return to their normal “resting” levels after the source of a stress has subsided. Individuals with this stress response pattern with chronically elevated levels of cortisol are at a significantly higher risk of obesity and type II diabetes — in addition to the generally better-known risk factors of diet and exercise (Tamayo et al., 2010; Anda et al., 2006).

Life-course Developmental Research Life-course developmental research has its early origins in observational, experimental and clinical studies of the psychological and physical development of infants and children, particularly over the latter half of the twentieth century (Bowlby, 1951). More recently, life-course developmental research has expanded to include studies of the entire life span and has had a greater focus on the ecological or contextual influences on the social, economic and cultural aspects of people’s lives. A consistent finding from longitudinal studies around the world is the extent to which socioeconomic gradients, particularly in the formative early years of life, matter a great deal in accounting for the overall population burden of adult physical and mental health disorders, psychosocial problems and educational outcomes (COAG, 2006). In resource-rich countries such as the UK, Canada and Australia, social gradients (differential outcomes based on the social position of an individual) are evident by school entry in a range of human development domains: physical, social and emotional, language and cognitive development. Such early disparities tend to increase over time.

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Longitudinal analysis of data on some 14,000 children in the 1970 British Birth Cohort Study has highlighted the extent to which early social gradients can influence children’s functional ability later in childhood – and how these can be modified. Waldfogel’s (2004) study of the cognitive development outcomes of this large-scale birth cohort showed that children who had low cognitive scores at age 22 months, but who grew up in families of high socioeconomic position, improved their relative scores as they approached the age of 10 (Figure 1 below). Conversely children with high cognitive ability at age 22 months, but who were raised in low socioeconomic families, had worse cognitive function at age ten than the children with low cognitive ability at age 22 months who were raised in high socioeconomic families (Waldfogel, 2004). Similar findings from a range of other longitudinal studies suggest that to have an impact on longer-term educational and health inequalities, it is necessary to address the social gradient in children’s opportunities for positive early developmental experiences. Later interventions, although important, are considerably less effective where good early foundations are lacking (DFaHCSIA, 2009).

Figure 1: Social position at age 22 months and cognitive development to age ten years: 1970 British Birth Cohort Study. (Source: Waldfogel, 2004)

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Epigenetic Studies and Early Childhood Development There is also expanding scientific interest in epidemiological studies showing how early life environmental exposures (such as infections, nutrition, or stress) are associated with children’s cognitive, behavioural social development and with increased longer-term susceptibility to chronic diseases, such as diabetes, cardiovascular disease, and mental health problems (Szyf, McGowan & Meaney, 2008). Since the completion of the mapping of the human genome in 2003, there has been a rapid growth of laboratory and population-based studies investigating how genes and environmentally-based experiences influence the way in which genes are expressed (Waldfogel, 2004). These studies have made recent breakthrough discoveries which explain the molecular mechanism through which different environmental factors “up-regulate” or “down-regulate” how specific genes can produce the proteins needed in the cell types they are known to code for. To explain this further, each human cell has a nucleus which operates as its command centre. The nucleus of each cell contains 22 pairs of chromosomes which are long, double helix strands of DNA. The DNA strands are themselves made up of specific segments of genetic code, known as genes. These genes contain the codes which “instruct” cells to produce the various proteins that our organs or body systems need in order to function. Within the last decade, molecular genetic studies have found that experiences with our environment can leave a chemical “signature,” or epigenetic tag, that sits on top of particular gene sections of our DNA, and it is this which determines whether the genes are expressed. In other words, our genes have the capacity to be switched “on” or “off”. Collectively, the pattern of the chemical signatures along the strands of DNA containing genes is called the “epigenome” (Szyf et al., 2008). The epigenome changes in response to chemical signals it receives from its immediate environment. These signals can come from inside the cell, from neighbouring cells, or from the outside world (environment). Early in development, most signals come from within cells or from neighbouring cells. The mother’s nutrition is also important at this stage. The food she brings into her body forms the building blocks for shaping the growing foetus and its developing epigenome. Other types of chemical signals, such as stress hormones, can also travel from mother to foetus. After birth and as life continues, a wider variety of environmental

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factors start to play a role in shaping the epigenome. Social interactions, physical activity, diet and other inputs generate signals that travel from cell to cell throughout the body. As in early development, signals from within the body continue to be important for many processes, including physical growth, brain development and learning (Center on the Developing Child at Harvard University, 2010).

Epigenetics, Brain Development and Learning As mentioned earlier, about one-quarter of all brain development occurs before birth. Then during the early years from birth, the child’s brain mass grows rapidly to reach around 70-80% of the adult brain mass by the time the child begins primary school. Some of the most important environmentally-based experiences which have been shown to play a significant role in shaping children’s early brain development include their mother’s pre- and post-natal experience of stress and/or depression, undernutrition, family and child stress, the responsiveness of parental caregiving, and the types of cognitive stimulation available to the child. All of these environmental risks occur with greater frequency in children growing up in poverty or other circumstances of disadvantage. One area of the developing brain most affected by such early life environmental influences is the limbic system (Szyf, McGowan & Meaney, 2008). The limbic system is a complex set of structures that lies in the middle of the brain and plays a vital role in managing how we respond to challenges; see Figure 2 below. It includes the hypothalamus, the amygdala and several nearby brain regions and plays an important role in coordinating the child’s ability to self-regulate their emotions, attention and behaviour. While the sensory systems bring in the information children need for development, the limbic system supplies the motivation for acting on the information. One of the key brain structures in the limbic system is the hypothalamus. This is one of the busiest parts of the brain, working like a thermostat in helping to return body functions to some “set point”. The hypothalamus regulates hunger, thirst, response to pain, levels of pleasure, sexual satisfaction, anger and aggressive behaviour. Importantly, it also regulates the functioning of the autonomic nervous or arousal system through its connections with the pituitary gland and the adrenal glands (sometimes called the HPA axis). The self-regulatory process of arousal and recovery has become a key focus of recent research in the neurosciences and education (Lupien, McEwen, Gunnar & Heim, 2009). This research is

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enabling a better understanding of the environmental experiences which children need for the development of their capacity to regulate their arousal state so they can be alert but also remain calm – i.e. a balanced arousal state which facilitates effective learning.

Figure 2. Key brain structures linked through the limbic system (Source: O'Connel et al., 2009).

Improving Early Childhood Development Outcomes Life-course development research and the new understandings from epigenetics and brain science have been valuable in identifying environmental risk and protective factors to inform more effective targeting of policies and services, as well as the design of programs for families, schools and communities to improve child health and development. This has provided a wealth of new information about the benefits of early childhood programs for children and society. While this evidence is mostly from the evaluation of targeted programs, it also includes findings from longitudinal studies showing the benefits of universal and selectively targeted preschool parenting programs in Australia (Ochiltree & Moore, 2001; Zubrick et al., 2007; Sanders et al.,

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2008; Prinz, Sanders, Shapiro, Whitaker & Lutzker, 2009), the USA (Dretzke et al., 2009) and Europe (Sylva, Melhuish, Sammons, SirajBlatchford & Taggart, 2008) and of universal preschool in the UK (Payton et al., 2008) and the USA (Centre for Community Child Health, 2006).

Quality Early Childhood Programs Although early childhood programs vary, most offer combinations of quality maternal, child and family health services, early childhood education and care, and parent support services. They aim to strengthen the capacities of caregivers and communities to promote the health and development of young children. The more effective programs tend to be those that work directly with children and also with parents to improve engagement with their children and to foster skills and confidence in parenting. Outcomes are generally better when services are wellcoordinated within a community and where there is good continuity of care for the child and their parent or caregiver (Olds et al., 2008). The quality of the workforce and their training and support are vitally important for early childhood services to achieve good outcomes for children. It has also been found to be useful to structure programs around key transition points, such as pregnancy and birth, from home to early childhood education and care, and the transition to school. These are times when parents face new challenges and situations, but also when they are more receptive to support and information relevant to the developmental needs of their children (McCain et al., 2007).

Improving Health and Nutrition Ensuring access to primary health care services (including mental health care when needed) is one of the most effective policies for reducing perinatal and early childhood health impairments. Home visiting programs, ensuring regular primary health care for pregnant mothers and children, are an important way of monitoring maternal health, social support needs and the adequacy of infant and childhood growth and other aspects of development (Bitler & Currie, 2005). They are valuable in identifying and initiating early intervention for maternal and child concerns that could lead to more serious problems later. These programs also encourage the parent or caregiver to undertake activities in the home that can enhance their children’s development. Such activities include

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ways of engaging attention, playing, storytelling and using picture books to stimulate the child’s imagination and language development (Bitler & Currie, 2005). Over and above the cost-benefit studies of maternal and child primary health care which demonstrate significant returns, there is growing evidence of the benefits of supplemental food programs for women, infants and children in the USA and several developing countries. For example, low-income mothers who participate in supplemental food programs for women, infants and children in the USA are less likely to have pre-term or low birth weight babies — situations which are associated with lower educational achievement, lower probability of employment and lower earnings as an adult (WHO, 2006). Similarly, the WHO Infant and Childhood Nutritional Counselling Program (World Bank, 2005; WHO, 2007) and home micronutrient supplementation (e.g. iron, folate and vitamin C) programs have been shown to be effective in reducing rates of growth retardation (stunting), wasting and childhood anaemia—all of which can adversely affect the developing brain (Grantham-McGregor et al., 2007; GranthamMcGregor, Powell, Walker, Chang & Fletcher, 1994). Of particular relevance to developing country contexts are international studies showing that the benefits of nutritional counselling and supplementation in communities with high proportions of undernourished and stunted children are significantly enhanced when families are also counselled by Indigenous health workers on care, interaction and activities that stimulate child development (GranthamMcGregor et al., 1994; Chaudron, Szilagyi, Campbell, Mounts & McInerny, 2007).

Improving Capability and Confidence in Parenting Most families adapt successfully to the challenges of preparing for the birth of an infant and then caring for the new child. However, this transition can be a challenging time, particularly for parents having their first child or where parents are themselves very young, or where parents are socially isolated or are experiencing serious adversity or disadvantage. In such circumstances, there is strong evidence that home visiting services can provide the critical support needed and have positive and substantial effects on a variety of childhood and adult outcomes (Karoly et al., 2005).

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However, not all home visiting programs have proven to be equally effective. The programs found to be more effective are those provided by well-trained and adequately supervised professional staff who implement a range of defined services guided by clear goals and who are successful in engaging families for the duration of the program. The home visiting program with the strongest evidence is the Nurse Family Partnership Program, which provides home visits usually starting in the second trimester before birth. This program involves weekly visits immediately following the birth and a total of around fifty home visits by the time the child is aged two (Bitler & Currie, 2005). Of particular relevance for developed countries are the findings from a recent large-scale randomised control trial of the universal implementation of an evidence-based parenting program (Triple-P) in 18 US counties with population sizes between 50,000 and 175,000 (Dretzke et al., 2009). The introduction of the program was found to have been associated with significant and effect-size reductions for three independently measured population indicators: substantiated child maltreatment, child out-of-home placements, and child maltreatment injuries within the counties where the program was delivered in comparison to counties not receiving the program.

Family Supports to Reduce Sources of Toxic Stress Those families in greatest need of support (e.g. parents with mental health, drug and alcohol misuse, parents experiencing family violence, or parents at risk for child abuse) can benefit from more focused services targeted to some of the sources of their stress. For example, parents at high risk for child abuse have been found to benefit from individualised coaching to increase their awareness and responsiveness to specific child behaviours, to learn to use praise and non-coercive discipline strategies, and to learn to stimulate their child’s development of language and other skills (Ochiltree & Moore, 2001; Dretzke et al., 2009). The quality of early childhood programs and the fidelity with which they are delivered is a consistent feature of evidence-based programs which are more effective. This, in turn, requires the availability of a suitably qualified workforce that receives structured pre-and in-service training and which has access to more specialised professional support where needed. Maintaining the quality and effectiveness of such programs also requires

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accountability frameworks and information systems for the ongoing monitoring of the outcomes achieved, for whom, and at what cost.

Summary The research evidence discussed in this chapter highlights the critical importance of children’s early environments of child rearing and learning for their later outcomes in health, learning and behaviour (i.e. human development). Children’s outcomes are better when parents and families are able to provide nurturant and responsive care and give high priority to encouraging their children’s early development and learning. The capability of families in supporting their children’s development is also better where public policy supports all parents and other caregivers having access to early child-care and education services that are well coordinated within a community, where there is good quality and continuity of care for children, and where more specialised family supports are available when needed.

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STRATEGIES FOR ENHANCING STUDENT WELLBEING AND SCHOOL ENGAGEMENT IN A REMOTE INDIGENOUS SCHOOL NICK HANCOCK CHARLES DARWIN UNIVERSITY, AUSTRALIA

Abstract Over the last several decades the role of the school has changed from being a place that focuses on academic learning to one in which the formation of the “whole child” is at the centre (Green, 2011). Teachers have begun to realise that what happens at school impacts strongly on the wellbeing of their students (O’Rourke & Cooper, 2010). Accordingly, the promotion of a child’s wellbeing is increasingly seen as an important area of research (Green, 2011). This chapter grows from the international experience of the author with wellbeing programs in the UK and explores research in an attempt to identify strategies which can be used in remote Indigenous schools to support students’ wellbeing. Initially, the project described in this chapter sought to focus on Indigenous boys, but due to scarce literature on this issue, the chapter relies on much research which relates to both boys and girls. The chapter maps the relationship between the wellbeing strategies applied in remote schools and the different aspects of wellbeing, which include physical environment, sense of belonging, relationships, academic support, and autonomy. It is hoped that the mapping task will reveal the extent to which those different aspects of wellbeing are being addressed.

Introduction In the remote desert of Central Australia, a small Indigenous school is having problems with its students, particularly its boys. Many of the boys

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attend school irregularly and, when they do attend, display behaviour that is both unwanted and dangerous. The teachers report that the students are not engaged. It is felt by many of the staff that engagement can only be achieved by building the students’ sense of wellbeing. Strategies are needed which teachers could incorporate in order to support students in developing their sense of self and, in the process, a deeper sense of belonging to the school community. With this objective in mind, the aim of the project is to identify strategies which can enhance student wellbeing and to construct a framework on which teachers in the school could draw in order to support students in enhancing their resilience and deeper connections with the community. Specifically, this project aims to review the literature regarding social futures to find and frame strategies which develop student wellbeing and increase their engagement in the school community. Much research has already been done into increasing wellbeing. This project examines that research and combines the results into a framework to be used to enhance student wellbeing for the purposes of increasing engagement in a remote Indigenous school in Central Australia.

First Experiences with the Concept of Wellbeing This research is couched in the author’s long-term interest in the area of student wellbeing. The aim of this brief story is to share my early professional experiences with wellbeing strategies as a pre-service teacher. In my third year of teaching, I followed the lead of thousands of Australian teachers before me and headed to London. I soon found out why there were so many jobs for Australian teachers: English teachers did not want them! Through an agency, I did day-to-day relief teaching in some of the tougher schools in the South London and Croydon areas. One of the more surprising elements about this was the fact that “easy” and “difficult” schools could exist in such close proximity. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason as to which schools required teachers and which needed something close to “lion tamers”. But one school stands out today as being the most difficult that I have ever taught in. The school of Ashwood 1 had a well-deserved reputation for being the toughest school in the region. Other agency teachers would only speak its name in a whisper, as if mentioning it would get them ordered there.

 1

The names of the schools have been changed to protect the reputation of the students and staff as well as, on a humorous side of things, to avoid raising the blood pressure of former relief teachers.

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Perhaps this is because a day at Ashwood was more like a bad movie that lasted all day, with swearing, rudeness and violence the norm and any semblance of order an accident. The agency shared out the days at Ashwood among its teachers to avoid teachers getting burnt out and questioning their choice of careers. After a term of doing day-to-day relief teaching, including Ashwood, I took a term contract at a much nicer and safer school in another area. After a term, I returned to day-to-day relief teaching. One day I received a text from the agency sending me to a new school called Haven Academy. As my journey on trams and buses brought me toward the school, I realised that Haven Academy must be very close to Ashwood School and hoped that their students would prove easier to manage. It was only as I was walking the last hundred meters that I realised, to my horror, that Haven Academy and Ashwood were one and the same. Ashwood had undergone a complete transformation and become Haven Academy. I continued into the school despite breaking into a cold sweat. As I looked for the new school office, I noticed that the buildings had been completely renovated and the students now wore entirely different uniforms. As I was signing in at the office, I was greeted by the new principal, something which never happened at Ashwood. In fact, I had never met the old principal and had assumed he or she had been busy hiding from students. The new principal insisted on meeting all visitors to the school and even gave me a tour of the revamped facility. She explained that all of the changes in the school had been done in order to promote student wellbeing. She pointed out the classrooms, which now had more windows and were painted different colours as well as having more space to move in. The carpets were new, as were the plants in the corridors and uniforms of the staff in the cafeteria. Some of the teaching staff were new, and the principal sought teachers who were more supportive of their students. The principal reminded me that all of these changes and more had been done in order to promote the wellbeing of the students. When we returned to the office, I noticed a large TV set up above the reception counter. On it were images of students in Haven Academy uniforms, some I recognised from the Ashwood days, smiling broadly at everyone entering the school. I asked the principal about this and she said that there was a belief this would add a positive feeling to the school. I took one last look at the students on the TV before finding my classroom. Perhaps I should have spent longer in front of the screen, because they were the only smiling students I saw all day. Once the day began, it was

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back to breaking up fights, dodging projectiles and ignoring insults as had been normal at Ashwood School. I left school that day thinking that wellbeing was a difficult concept to implement. As a postscript to this story, after I had been back in Australia a few years, I caught up with a friend who had taught with the same agency as I did. They had stayed for two years longer than I did in London and had kept doing day-to-day relief teaching at schools in the area, including Haven Academy. This teacher told me that the school had really improved over the years and that Haven Academy was now considered one of the best schools to teach at in the area. Perhaps there is something to this process of altering the school to enhance wellbeing after all.

The Relevance of Wellbeing The traditional Western view of education is changing due to the increase in knowledge of how learning occurs (Immordino-Yang, 2011). The wellbeing and emotional development of the child are increasingly being seen as an essential part of a child’s schooling and even as a prerequisite for learning (Samdal, 1999). The World Health Organisation (WHO) has also recognised the importance of a child’s social environment, such as a school, to their general wellbeing (Bond, Patton, Glover, Carlin, Butler, Thomas & Bowers, 2004). As wellbeing becomes part of the curriculum and is seen as a necessary ingredient of student engagement, educators need to learn about and engage with strategies which support student wellbeing. The literature suggests different strategies to enhance the wellbeing of students. Immordino-Yang (2008) recommends that students be explicitly taught to become aware of their own responses to a situation physically and emotionally as well as internally and socially. Training is also seen as necessary to help children understand the complexity of the morals involved in their situation (Immordino-Yang, 2008). The teacher can also promote students’ self-value by seeking out and respecting visceral responses and allowing time for students to break their concentration (Immordino-Yang, 2008). Bond et al. (2004) identified three areas that a school could focus on to increase student wellbeing. These were “building a sense of security and trust; increasing skills and opportunities for good communication; and building a sense of positive regard through valued participation in aspects of school life” (Bond et al., 2004, p. 997). Samdal (1999) investigated how

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student wellbeing relates to autonomy and support from teachers as well as on other students and adequate demands being placed upon them. Van Petegem, Aelterman, Van Keer and Rosseel (2007) found correlations between student wellbeing and motivation as well as interpersonal teacher behaviour. The research of Van Petegem, Aelterman, Rosseel and Creemers (2007) support these findings and add the impacts that perceived teacher wellbeing has on student wellbeing.

Study Objectives and Design The aim of the study is to identify ideas which show how current theories and research can be applied in the classroom to increase students’ sense of wellbeing and, as a result, their school engagement. The researcher works in a school that is experiencing problems with wellbeing strategies that would best support its male students. The school teaches children from Transition to Year 10, and the vast majority of the student population is made up of Indigenous Australians. The school has long had a problem with school attendance, which may have different causes. However, a study of wellbeing strategies should allow its staff to critically evaluate the strategies used by the school and their own attempts to provide a relevant and nourishing environment. Teachers in the school have noticed that there is a distinct lack of confidence and self-pride among the students. In the classroom, it is common to have students who will not attempt work for fear of failure or not wanting to stand out from the group. Often students have uncontrollable bursts of emotion with no obvious explanation. With several students in each class regularly displaying such behaviour, learning opportunities are diminished. Teachers have reported spending more time on behaviour management than on teaching concepts. The unwanted behaviour has become the norm in the school to the extent that even children who demonstrate the correct behaviour are having their education restricted. Nationally, only 32% of Indigenous students complete Year 12 compared to 71% of their non-Indigenous counterparts (ABS, 2006). The 2006 census revealed that Indigenous people with a higher level of schooling were more likely to be in full-time employment than those with lower levels of education. Those who completed a non-school Certificate III or above were over twice as likely to have full-time employment compared to those that failed to finish their schooling (ABS, 2006).

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It has been demonstrated that an increased sense of one’s wellbeing enhances the likelihood of students wanting to participate in productive activities which have a positive impact on students’ current and future choices, including personal health (ABS, 2012). A “whole school” approach to student wellbeing often challenges the entire teaching staff (Phillips, 2003). There is not enough scope in this chapter to address issues in-depth. However, this research hopes to identify studies and strategies which may assist remote Indigenous schools to better understand the concept of wellbeing as it might apply to their particular contexts. Throughout the duration of this study, the researcher has collaborated with coursework master students in Education at Charles Darwin University. This collaboration has taken place over electronic media. This has been particularly helpful, with students suggesting videos and readings to assist the researcher with his project. The researcher has also been collaborating with the teaching staff at his school. As the study is designed to be implemented in a school setting, the opinions of other teachers, assistant teachers and the school leadership team were sought. It was the agreement of the school for the project to focus on wellbeing and male students. Generally, it was felt that the wellbeing of students at the school was poor. The study informed the discussions that ensued and a survey which was conducted within the school for its own purposes. To begin with, the literature on supporting the wellbeing of children in remote Indigenous schools is reviewed and its relevance assessed in relation to the current context of the researcher. Theoretical frameworks and practical strategies identified in the literature were also shared with colleagues at work to gain their opinions. Next, the researcher attempts to weave the ideas from literature into a wellbeing framework which will emerge from this collaborative work. The framework will be shared with other coursework master students at Charles Darwin University as well as with the teachers at the school in question to gain new insights and perspectives.

Defining Wellbeing The concept of wellbeing is central to this project. Diener, Suh, Lucas and Smith (1999) point out how the definition of wellbeing has changed over a thirty-year period. This can make comparing research into wellbeing a difficult task (Diener et al., 1999). As researchers may have different ideas

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of what constitutes wellbeing, it is challenging to compare research into how to promote it. Add to this that the state of wellbeing is “dynamic and changeable” as well as “enacted differently in different cultures” (Government of South Australia, 2007, p. 4), and the concept becomes more difficult to grasp. There is yet to be a single accepted definition for the word ‘wellbeing’ (Ryff, 1989). The researcher will not be so bold as to propose a single definition for this concept in a field where the debate has been ongoing for decades (Diener et al., 1999). However, the researcher supports the description that “Wellbeing is … a holistic subjective state which is present when a range of feelings, among them energy, confidence, openness, enjoyment, happiness, calm, and caring, are combined and balanced” (Stewart-Brown, as cited in Government of South Australia, 2007, p. 4). However, there is more to the state of wellbeing than this. This chapter reviews a range of articles on this topic and identifies five pillars of wellbeing which relate to social and emotional wellbeing (Government of South Australia, 2007) and which will form the framework of the study.

Pillars of Wellbeing The following are factors which repeatedly appear in the research as impacting on wellbeing. Although they are often given different names in order to emphasise different nuances, for the purpose of this study they were unified and given a brief description. There may be some overlap among the pillars, as wellbeing is a complex concept that is not made up of clear and distinct factors. The term pillars is used as, when put together, they can support the wellbeing of a person.

Physical Environment Physical environment refers to the actual place in which individuals find themselves. The school environment can set the foundations for students to have a positive feeling toward their education (Allen and Bowles, 2012). For this project, the physical environment which we are focusing on is that of the school, including classrooms, playgrounds, common areas, buses and places for excursions and camps (Kang, 2007). The environment and the ability of people to feel comfortable in it and master it has been identified as a key component of wellbeing by several researchers, including Kang (2007), Ryff (1989), Van Petegem, Aelterman, Keer and Rosseel (2007), and Bond, Patton, Glover, Carlin,

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Butler, Thomas and Bowes (2004), as well as by the governments of Queensland (2012) and South Australia (2007).

Sense of Belonging Following on from the physical environment is how much a person feels like they belong to that environment. Libbey (2007 as cited in Allen & Bowles, 2012, p. 109) describes student belonging as when “they feel close to, a part of, and happy at school; feel that teachers care about students and treat them fairly; get along with teachers and other students, and feel safe at school”. A sense of belonging is a term that comes up frequently in research into wellbeing (O’Rourke & Cooper, 2010; Papatheodorou, 2010; Allen & Bowles, 2012).

Relationships Another important part of wellbeing is the relationships that students are able to create and maintain. According to Ryff (1989, p. 1071), “the importance of positive relations with others is repeatedly stressed in these conceptions of psychological well-being”. These relationships may be with friends (O’Rourke & Cooper, 2010) as well as other students (Bond et al., 2004), teachers and other school staff (Lillico, 2002c; Van Petegem et al., 2007; Mihalas, Witherspoon, Harper & Sovran, 2012) as well as parents, other family members and caregivers (Cripps & Zyromski, 2009). Along with maintaining relationships, choosing positive people with whom to have the relationships is seen as critical. A positive peer group can improve a student’s view of their school (Allen & Bowles, 2012). The quality of these relationships can be dependent on factors such as trust, equality and communication (Bond et al., 2004).

Support The support that a teacher is able to offer a student is crucial to the wellbeing of that child, particularly one who is having difficulties in some aspect of their life (Mihalas et al., 2012). This support may be emotional, such as having someone to talk to about problems (Mihalas et al., 2012; Allen & Bowles, 2012), or academic, such as receiving tailored tuition (Dix, Slee, Lawon & Keeves, 2012). A high level of perceived support in a work or school environment can be a good predictor of overall wellbeing (Samdal, 1999). Students who feel supported by staff will often feel and behave in a more positive manner than those who feel unsupported

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(Mihalas et al., 2012). Support is closely linked to the other wellbeing pillars of relationships and sense of belonging.

Autonomy Autonomy, or a degree of self-reliance and independence, is also seen as important in the wellbeing of a student (Samdal, 1999). Those who continually rely on help from others, whether they are teachers or students, generally feel less satisfied than those who are more independent. Schools should strive to offer students a chance to work independently in order to gain confidence (Government of South Australia, 2007). Therefore, a balance needs to be found between the pillars of support and autonomy. The support should not be seen as an alternative to autonomy, but rather as a means of achieving it. Academic support should enable students to achieve goals independently (Dix et al., 2012).

Strategies for Promoting Student Wellbeing Explicit Teaching of Social and Emotional Skills In schools, students are told what wellbeing and related phrases mean (Green, 2011). They are given strategies to increase their wellbeing and are able to practise these strategies. Students role play different scenarios which they may encounter (Bond et al., 2004). They are told the theoretical underpinnings of wellbeing (Green, 2011) and given an opportunity to practise skills to achieve their goals in the classroom (Allen & Bowles, 2012). Students are also taught how to set and plan to achieve goals (Samdal, 1999).

Changing the Physical Layout Changes to the classroom, playground and other school areas may be done to benefit the students. Stations where students can receive support, work alone or in groups can be added (Kang, 2007). The physical environment can be changed to allow more movement for students. Such a change has been shown to benefit boys’ concentration (Lillico, 2002a). The displays can reflect school values and include student work (Queensland Government, 2012). Students could also be given a say in how classrooms are set up so as to increase their sense of ownership as well as their sense of belonging (Ryff, 1989).

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Teacher Education Teachers are given ongoing professional development to allow them to understand and support their students (Queensland Government, 2013a; Milhalas et al., 2012). This gives teachers more skills in supporting students emotionally and academically. Teachers are able to share their experiences with their colleagues and devise strategies that cater to student needs and assist students in working independently (Dix et al., 2012).

Student Decision-making Student opinions are formally sought and contribute to the decisionmaking processes of the school (Queensland Government, 2012). This may be achieved by students being placed in leadership positions (Queensland Government, 2013c) or through student surveys (Ryff, 1989). These procedures will add to the students’ sense of ownership and belonging to the school.

School Rules The rules of the school are clear, consistent across the school and are well known to the students (Queensland Government, 2012). Students may have an input into the rules to increase their sense of ownership.

Pastoral Care Pastoral care is a means of giving support to students and may be offered in several forms. Students may nominate a member of staff to whom they can go in order to talk or receive advice (Allen & Bowles, 2012). Students may also be sorted into groups and be assigned a teacher as a guide (Dix et al., 2012).

Wellbeing of Staff The wellbeing of the school staff should be made a priority. Petegem, Aelterman, Rosseel and Creemers (2006) found that students who perceived their teachers as having a high level of wellbeing, had a higher level of wellbeing themselves when compared to their counterparts who saw their teachers as having a lower sense of wellbeing. Staff wellbeing may be addressed through professional development and opportunities to learn about wellbeing (Allen & Bowels, 2012); resources, such as case

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studies, regarding aspects of wellbeing (Dix et al., 2012); and opportunities to be mentored (Queensland Government, 2013c).

Modifying Curriculum and Pedagogy In cases where the student’s ability does not meet the set curriculum, the work is altered to allow the student a chance to progress (Queensland Government, 2012) and feel a sense of achievement (Dix et al., 2012). Where possible, students are given a choice in what to study so as to provide motivation and interest (Kang, 2007).

Outdoor Education Lessons take place outside the classroom on a regular basis. Some students may feel more comfortable outside the formal setting of a classroom (Garrett, 2012). A focus could be on Indigenous knowledges to show the students that the school values their local culture (Papatheodorou, 2010). Outdoor education can incorporate school camps in which skills are learnt and confidence is grown (Lillico, 2002b).

Partnerships with the Community The school actively seeks partnerships with community organisations such as businesses, government organisations and health services. The partnerships may include work experience programs for students (Queensland Government, 2013b). Partnerships with stronger relationships with parents are also sought through open days, new family inductions and other community engagement events (Allen & Bowles, 2012; Queensland Government, 2013c; Cripps & Zyromski, 2009). These parents and community organisations offer new relationships for students as well as provide the possibility to gain new skills (Queensland Government, 2013c).

Early Intervention for Students with Clear Academic and Social Needs Students who are demonstrating signs of social or academic difficulty are assessed by government health professionals (Allen & Bowles, 2012). Those found to be in need of help are put on individual plans developed by teachers and health professionals (Dix et al., 2012). The environment can

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also be modified to help students with difficulties (Queensland Government, 2012).

Goal Setting Students are taught to set realistic goals. They are given lessons in goal setting, which include examples and allow students a chance to practice setting goals (Eryilmaz, 2011).

Student Leaders Student leaders may be volunteers or elected by their peers and make significant impacts on the culture of a school (Queensland Government, 2012). These leaders work with school staff, and sometimes the wider community, and may make decisions on behalf of students (Queensland Government, 2012). Student leaders are trained to offer support to other students in minor matters (Green, 2011).

Surveys Students are regularly surveyed to gain an insight into how they view the school and what may need to be changed (Bond et al., 2012). These opinions may be sought on a variety of subjects including perceived support and physical environment.

Same Sex Classrooms The school should offer regular opportunities for same-sex classes. This may allow new relationships to form as well as the potential for students to talk about issues which they might not be willing to raise in front of the opposite sex (Lillico, 2003). The opportunity to have same-sex classes may be more important for older students.

Sport Students are given opportunities to play sport at school and against other schools. This provides opportunities for students to support each other, form new relationships and get outside the classroom while still being part of the school (Lillico, 2002d; Garret, 2012). Students also learn to experience and handle disappointment, stress and competition while supporting each other in a semi-controlled environment (Hursh, 2003).

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Parent Education Regular events are held at the school for parents to learn and share skills in raising children (Cripps and Zyromski, 2009). Regular attendance by parents will have the added advantage of contributing to the students’ sense of belonging to the school community (Queensland Government, 2012; Cripps & Zyromski, 2009).

Cultural Appreciation Events are held at school to celebrate the culture of the local community (Queensland Government, 2012). Cultural artefacts are displayed around the school (Queensland Government, 2013c) and culture is celebrated through music, dance and food (Queensland Government, 2013a). The sharing of culture allows for the growth of respect and forging relationships between the school and families (Queensland Government, 2013c).

Analysis Five Pillars An analysis of the literature summarised in Table 1 reveals that many of the areas that make up childhood wellbeing are thoroughly researched while others still show gaps. When looking down the five columns for the chosen pillar of wellbeing, it is clear that each pillar has several strategies that, at least in part, address the concept. No pillar is left without strategies for its development. In total, seventeen strategies were suggested in the framework. Of these, nine were found to impact on physical environment, nine on autonomy, and eleven on relationships, while support and sense of belonging had the most with twelve. With the difference between the smallest number of strategies and the most being just three strategies, it is fair to say that all pillars are fairly evenly covered by the literature. It is also clear that a school cannot expect to increase the wellbeing of its students with just one strategy. Schools must adopt several strategies in order to promote student wellbeing. The scope of this study does not allow for a more thorough analysis of the field. However, the gaps in Table 1 provide an indication that there is room for more research in this area. Also, in relation to Indigenous knowledge systems, the strategies identified in this study do not appear to make explicit links with wellbeing and the core curriculum.

School rules are clear, consistent and positively framed.

Inviting students’ input on new policy. Inviting students’ input to enhance ownership of rules.

Inviting students’ input. Rules are posted in prominent places.

Students making decisions.

Students have a say and their work is displayed around the school.

Students can see that the rules apply to all.

Looking for danger signs.

Maintaining relationships through lectures and role-plays.

Explanation of what wellbeing is and how to achieve it.

Role playing.

Support

Identifying student needs and creating support structures.

Areas are set up where students can seek teacher assistance.

Five pillars of wellbeing Sense of Belonging Relationships

Respecting and understanding the culture of the students.

Re-designing of classrooms and playgrounds.

Physical Environment

Teacher education.

A program of regular lessons for the whole school which allows students to build the skills and practise them. Changing the physical layout of the school.

Explicit teaching of social and emotional skills.

Strategies for developing wellbeing in boys

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Placing students in leadership roles.

Areas are set up where students can work independently while shared areas are used for group work. Creating tasks that encourage students to work independently.

Students are taught to set goals for individual work and devise plans for achieving them.

Autonomy

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Partnerships with community organisations.

Outdoor education program.

Outdoor study is encouraged when it is preferred. Work experience programs.

Giving students more options in what they study and how. Indigenous knowledge systems are openly valued and integrated. Demonstrate that the school is a key part of the community of the students. Parent partnership evenings, open afternoons, new family inductions.

Teachers are assisted with resources and mentors.

Initiatives to look after the wellbeing of staff.

Modifying curriculum and pedagogy to match learners’ abilities.

Students nominate at least one trusted member of staff.

External guests from multiple community agencies and businesses share skills with students. Work placement programs.

The process of seeking help is explained to students. Teachers model their own stress management. Personalised programs, not preprescribed.

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Pastoral Care initiative.

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Individual students exercise choice and activities aim at student ability level. School camps with a focus on autonomy and skill development.





The physical environment may be altered on the basis of student ideas.

Student surveys.

Regular opportunities for single-sex classrooms.

The physical environment can be modified to care for those with academic or behavioural difficulties.

Early intervention for those with clear emotional or academic needs. Identified students are assessed by professionals and the school commits to providing extra support. Student leaders installed in the school.

Older students may need time for confidential topics.

Student ideas are integrated.

Students make decisions that impact on the school community.

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A chance to connect in a confidential environment.

Student leaders work closely with school staff and the wider community. Student leaders will be trained to offer support to their fellow students. They may be trained to resolve minor problems. Learning how students view the school, and action is taken where appropriate.

Qualified professionals tailor individual plans for students. Students can put forward their own suggestions regarding the school as well as plan and carry out projects.

Students are given more realistic work programs which allow them a greater degree of autonomy.

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Inclusion of artefacts of cultural significance.

Students see that their culture is integral to the school community.

Parents feel welcome in the school as valued members of the school community.

Parents can seek advice on how to maintain healthy relationships with their children. Relationships are built as knowledge about culture is shared.

Parents can discuss parenting and school support.

Students learn to deal with disappointments, competition and stress in a controlled setting.

Table 1: Strategies for supporting the wellbeing of boys in school mapped against the “five pillars of wellbeing”.

Regular culture appreciation events.

Parent education opportunities.

Students learn to support each other in victory and defeat.

Take learning opportunities outside the classroom where students may feel more at ease.

Opportunities for school sport and inter-school sport. Relationships form that may not have done so in the classroom setting.

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Implementation While adopting several strategies might appear like a big task for a school administration, the strategies that are suggested are not new or outlandish. Many schools would already be using some of these strategies with perhaps just a bit of fine tuning needed. For example, most schools have some kind of sports program. By adding a few discussions about support, emotions, and handling defeat, the school can cover four out of the five pillars of wellbeing. The strategies that have been examined are feasible for most schools and are already being used in some if not many of them.

The Difference between Boys and Girls While there is abundant research into wellbeing and even specifically student wellbeing, it is difficult to find research that focuses on the wellbeing of boys in the higher levels of schooling. Instead, for this project, many of the papers that were used were about both male and female students. The research which is available is often based on data from early childhood. Sax (2001) looked into the way kindergartens may be aimed at increasing the wellbeing of girls while harming that of the boys. Sax argues that boys are taught to read before they are mentally ready due to slower maturation than girls and, therefore, are set up to fail. This failure results in harm to boys’ self-esteem and a possible resentment of formal education (Sax, 2001). Sax argues that boys should start formal education later than girls and should use a modified curriculum. Having a modified curriculum was suggested in the framework, but only for those who showed clear signs of academic or social need. Altering the starting age of boys was left out of Table 1 as it was felt that it was an issue for a government, not a school, to address. Several articles by Lillico were used in this project. While he is considered an expert in the field of “education of boys”, his work is written for an audience of parents and teachers. It was felt that a more academic approach would have been more useful for the purposes of this study. It may be that there is just a general lack of empirical research into strategies specifically on the topic of the wellbeing of boys.

What Difference? Perhaps some of the reason for the lack of research on the difference between male and female students is a growing realisation that differences

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have been overstated (Whitehead, 2011). Whitehead (2011) used the growing field of neuroscience to examine claims made by schools regarding classes designed to target the learning and wellbeing of male students. He found that many of the claims about the difference in genders were based more on stereotypes than on science (Whitehead, 2011). He concluded that by stereotyping, schools show themselves to be more interested in appealing to the notions of parents rather than helping their male students. It may be that boys and girls have similar needs for wellbeing and that schools should have strategies to promote the wellbeing of all of their students. The researcher was unable to find further evidence to support or refute this conclusion.

Summary Our parents, through our genes and our upbringing, influence about 50% of the variation in happiness between people. Our circumstances, which include our income, as well as other external factors such as climate and where we live, account for only 10%. Our outlook and activities, like our friendships, being involved in our community, sport and hobbies, as well as our attitude to life, account for the remaining 40%. This is where we have the most opportunity to make a difference to wellbeing. (Shah & Marks as cited in Government of South Australia, 2007, p. 6)

The study described in this chapter reviewed the literature regarding child wellbeing. The study showed that what happens at school can either contribute to or detract from a child’s wellbeing. Often, teachers are very good at reacting to problems. However, “[c]hild wellbeing is more than the absence of problems” (Pollard & Davidson, as cited in Government of South Australia, 2007, p. 4). Instead, schools must actively try to promote wellbeing even before the problems associated with its absence become evident. If schools truly see their roles as preparing students for life after school, then a focus on wellbeing is essential. This project has identified several strategies which promote wellbeing. Many of these strategies are already found in schools and it is important that more than one strategy be adopted to address all pillars of wellbeing. The literature into child wellbeing is abundant, though much less on potential differences between boys and girls. This researcher would like to see more work undertaken in this area. If external factors are truly as important as Slah and Marks suggest, research into this area must be a priority in the field of education.

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References ABS (Australian Bureau of Statistics). (2006). Indigenous statistics for schools. Retrieved August 12, 2015, from: http://www.abs.gov.au/websitedbs/cashome.nsf/home/ISS%20Indigen ous%20statistics%20for%20schools. —. (2012). Framework for measuring wellbeing: Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders. Retrieved August 12, 2015, from: http://www.abs.gov.au/AUSSTATS/[email protected]/ProductsbyReleaseDate/ E8B15412D3BD0B3ACA2576DC001456EF?OpenDocument. Allen, K. A. & Bowles, T. (2012). Belonging as a guiding principle in the education of adolescents. Australian Journal of Educational & Developmental Psychology, 12, 108-119. Bond, L., Patton, G., Glover, S., Carlin, J. B., Butler, H., Thomas, L. & Bowes, G. (2004). The Gatehouse Project: Can a multilevel school intervention affect emotional wellbeing and health risk behaviours? Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health, 58, 997-1003. Cripps, K. & Zyromski, B. (2009). Adolescents’ psychological well-being and perceived parental involvement: Implications for parental involvement in middle schools. Research in Middle Level Education Online, 33(4), 1-13. Diener, E., Suh, E. M., Lucas, R. E. & Smith, H. L. (1999). Subjective well-being: Three decades of progress. Psychological Bulletin, 125(2), 276-302. Dix, K. L., Slee, P. T., Lawson, M. J. & Keeves, J. P. (2012). Implementation quality of whole-school mental health promotion and students’ academic performance. Child and Adolescent Mental Health, 17(1), 45-51. Eryilmaz, R. (2011). Satisfaction of needs and determining of life goals: A model of subjective well-being for adolescents in high school. Educational Theory & Practice, 11(4), 1757-1764. Garrett, R. (2013). What is Reggio Emilia? Education.com website. Retrieved August 12, 2015, from: http://www.education.com/magazine/article/Reggio_Emilia/. Government of South Australia. (2007). DECS learner wellbeing framework from birth to year 12. Adelaide: Department of Education and Children’s Services. Grainger, T. & Barners, J. (2006). Creativity in the primary curriculum. In T., Arthur, T. Grainger & D. Wray (Eds.), Learning to teach in the primary school, 209-225. London: Routledge.

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Green, S. (2011). Positive Education: Creating flourishing students, staff and schools. InPsych, 33. Retrieved August 12, 2015 from: http://www.psychology.org.au/publications/inpsych/2011/april/green. Hursh, D. (2003). Imagining the future: Growing up working class; teaching in the University. Educational Foundations, 17(3), 55-68. Immordino-Yang, M. H. (2011). Implications of affective and social neuroscience for educational theory. Education Philosophy and Theory. 43(1), 98-103. Kang, J. (2007). How many languages can Reggio children speak? Many more than a hundred. Gifted Child Today. 30(3), 45-65. Lillico, I. (2002a). Boys’ feelings and movement. Boys Forward Institute – Perspectives. Retrieved August 12, 2015, from: http://www.boysforward.com.au/images/pdf/insights/boys_feelings_an d_movement.pdf. —. (2002b). Boys must connect with nature. Boys Forward Institute – Perspectives. Retrieved August 12, 2015, from: http://www.boysforward.com.au/images/pdf/insights/boys_must_conn ect_with_nature.pdf. —. (2002c). Boys’ relationships with their teachers. Boys Forward Institute – Perspectives. Retrieved August 12, 2015, from: http://www.boysforward.com.au/images/pdf/insights/boys_relationship _with_teachers.pdf. —. (2002d). The value of sport for boys. Boys Forward Institute – Perspectives. Retrieved August 12, 2015, from: http://www.boysforward.com.au/images/pdf/insights/the_value_of_spo rts_for_boys.pdf. —. (2003). Boys and single-sex schooling. Boys Forward Institute – Perspectives. Retrieved August 12, 2015, from: http://www.boysforward.com.au/images/pdf/insights/boys_and_singlesex_schooling.pdf. Mihalas, S. T., Witherspoon, R. G., Harper, M. E. & Sovran, B. A. (2012). The moderating effect of teacher support on depression and relational victimization in minority middle school students. International Journal of Whole Schooling, 8(1), 40-62. O’Rourke, J. & Cooper, M. (2010). Lucky to be happy: A study of happiness in Australian primary students. Australian Journal of Educational & Developmental Psychology, 10, 94-107. Papatheodorou, T. (2010). Being, belonging and becoming: Some worldviews of early childhood in contemporary curricula. Forum on Public Policy. Retrieved August 12, 2015, from:

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http://forumonpublicpolicy.com/spring2010.vol2010/spring2010archiv e/papatheodorou.pdf. Phillips, J. (2003). Powerful learning: creating learning communities in urban school reform. Journal of Curriculum and Supervision, 18(3), 240-258. Queensland Government. (2012). Learning and wellbeing framework. Department of Education, Training and Employment. Retrieved August 12, 2015, from: http://deta.qld.gov.au/initiatives/learningandwellbeing/resources/learni ng-and-wellbeing-framework.pdf. —. (2013a). Badu campus, Tagai State College’s commitment to learning and wellbeing. Department of Education, Training and Employment. Retrieved August 12, 2015, from: http://deta.qld.gov.au/initiatives/ learningandwellbeing/resources/tagai-state-college-case-study.pdf. —. (2013b). Dirranbadi P-10 State Schools commitment to learning and wellbeing. Department of Education, Training and Employment. Retrieved August 12, 2015, from: http://deta.qld.gov.au/initiatives/ learningandwellbeing/resources/dirranbandi-school-case-study.pdf. —. (2013c). Talara Primary College’s commitment to learning and wellbeing. Department of Education, Training and Employment. Retrieved August 12, 2015, from: http://deta.qld.gov.au/initiatives/ learningandwellbeing/resources/talara-primary-college-case-study.pdf. Ryff, C. D. (1989). Happiness is everything, or is it? Exploration on the meaning of psychological well-being. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 57(6), 1069-1081. Samdal, O. (1999). The school environment as a risk or resource for students’ health-related behaviours and subjective well-being. Research Centre for Health Promotion, University of Bergen. Retrieved August 12, 2014, from: http://www.fou.uib.no/drgrad/1999/320002/. Sax, L. (2001). Reclaiming kindergarten: Making kindergarten less harmful to boys. Psychology of Men & Masculinity, 2(1), 3-12. Van Petegem, K., Aelterman, A., Rosseel, Y. & Creemers, B. (2007). Student perception as moderator for student wellbeing. Social Indicators Research, 83, 447-463. Van Petegem, P. Aelterman, A., Van Keer, H. & Rosseel, Y. (2007). The influence of student characteristics and interpersonal teacher behaviour in the classroom on student’s wellbeing. Social Indicators Research, 85, 279-291. Whitehead, D. (2011). Can neuroscience construct a literate gendered culture? English Teaching: Practice and Critique, 10(2), 78-87.

BILATERAL ENGAGEMENTS AND CAPACITY DEVELOPMENT: UNDERSTANDING THE CONTEXT OF THE EDUCATIONAL REFORM IN TIMOR-LESTE THERESE KERSTEN CHARLES DARWIN UNIVERSITY, AUSTRALIA

Abstract This chapter describes an initiative which developed from a collaboration between the Charles Darwin University (CDU) and the Ministry of Education in Timor-Leste. It was set up to assist Timor-Leste in managing a major educational change introduced recently in their country. The key focus of this initiative is on assisting school inspectors and teachers in their understanding and implementation of a new curriculum that places emphasis on formative assessment for young students in the early primary school years. The aim of this chapter is to explore the challenges that this task presents and to provide the CDU team with a better understanding of the context as it embarks on planning and delivering professional development through CDU’s biennial Steps to the Future workshop.

Context of the Project This project described in this chapter develops from work undertaken by Charles Darwin University (CDU) in May and November 2012 in Dili, Timor-Leste. This involved the School of Education in liaising with government and non-government providers of education in Timor-Leste to establish collaboratively an ongoing working relationship culminating in a

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biennial workshop, Steps to the Future: A Cooperative Workshop for Education and Training in Timor-Leste. Following the success of the 2012 workshop, Charles Darwin University’s Vice Chancellor has agreed to biennial funding for the continuation of this project. Timor-Leste became an independent state on May 20, 2002. For more than four centuries Timor-Leste was a Portuguese colony. During this long reign of colonisation by the Portuguese, the Indigenous peoples of TimorLeste were severely restricted in accessing any type of formal education beyond the primary school years. In 1974 Portugal experienced a revolution which was a catalyst for a speedy decolonisation in Timor, culminating in a civil war between rival political factions. A proindependence party emerged victorious. However, this was short-lived, as Indonesia invaded Timor-Leste in December 1975 and annexed the country as its 27th province. In 1999, the United Nations (UN) administered a referendum where the Timorese people voted for independence. According to the USAID (2011a) Timor-Leste country development cooperation strategy 2013-2018, the result of this election unleashed a terrible wave of violence across the tiny nation. The withdrawing Indonesian forces and their proxy militia massacred civilians, destroyed power stations and water pipes and burned 85% of all buildings in the country. The education system was hit hard and 95% of the schools and education facilities were razed. Buildings, furniture and teaching equipment were destroyed. The majority of teachers at junior, high and tertiary institutions were Indonesians, as were Department of Education officials, and they left the country for good. In a concept paper prepared for the World Bank East Timor Education Sector Study, Bing Wu (2000) discusses the departure of the Indonesian educators in 1999 and the effect this had on the education sector. Of the 3,000 positions filled in 2000, only about 100 appointees possessed the relevant qualifications. Fifty-seven percent of the adult population had little or no schooling, 23% only primary education, 8% junior secondary education, 10% senior secondary education and 1.4% higher education. Well-educated persons were few, and even fewer were qualified to teach. Throughout the school year of 1999/2000, the work of education was undertaken by thousands of volunteers. In regards to school attendance, this was seen as a success, as the total number of students increased to 170,000. However, there was no curriculum, facilities or equipment, and staff were minimally qualified, so schools functioned on an ad hoc basis. The 2000/2001 school year saw the number of students increase to more

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than 200,000. According to the Human Development Report 2013 (UNDP, 2013), for the next three years less than 10% of examinees passed the teacher recruitment examination. This then imposed limits on how fast the system could expand and the level of improvement in education that could actually be achieved. Pederson and Arneberg (1999) prepared a comprehensive overview of the available information on the educational sector in their report Social and economic conditions in East Timor. The report provided baseline data and analysis for the purpose of planning. Chapter 6 of the review, “Education and Human Capital”, suggests that the following needs to be put in place: x New teachers need to be recruited. x Improvement of the quality of teachers at all levels is necessary to improve system efficiency. x Management training for existing and new personnel will be vital for a successful development of the education sector. x Assessment and educational facilities are needed after the recent destruction. x The rebuilding of schools. x The introduction of a new language(s) will put a heavy burden on the education sector, especially through the development of a new curriculum, new teaching materials and teacher training and retraining. In November 1999, a Joint Assessment Mission formed by the World Bank in Timor-Leste suggested the following areas of education as the four most urgent priorities for short-term reconstruction in Timor-Leste (Pederson & Arneberg, 1999): 1. 2. 3. 4.

Primary and secondary education. Training of teachers and administrative staffing. Education and training for out of school youth. Tertiary and technical education.

Considering the suggestions and recommendations made by a number of investigating organisations, CDU decided to continue to liaise with the current Vice Minister of Basic Education regarding the task of implementing a curriculum for Basic Education through the guidance and support of newly appointed school inspectors. Basic Education in TimorLeste refers to the pre-school level and classes 1-8 and currently involves approximately 220 school inspectors and 7,000 teachers.

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Issues to Consider and Problem Statement The low performance of the education sector in Timor-Leste has been a longstanding problem. Many students drop out without acquiring basic skills. Analysis of existing data suggests that the most severe problem is that pupils who continue in school do not acquire the necessary skills and must repeat classes. Together with late enrolment, this repetition has caused a peculiar structure, with overage students clustered in the lower grades. As reported in the Humanitarian pillar situation report (UNTAET, 2000), far fewer than 50% of students complete school in the required time. The reasons for the inefficiency of the school system are many, although most point to a supply side fault. This relates to the low quality of teachers and teaching methods, the fact that most school entrants do not understand the language of instruction and the inadequacy of the curriculum. Efforts to improve the curriculum and teaching materials were mainly driven by the Catholic Church and non-government organisations (NGOs). In a new political setting, the emerging new government and private suppliers could have coordinated their efforts to develop a coherent curriculum to relate education to the familiar and practical aspects of Timorese life, to contribute to strengthening national identity as well as individual self-esteem. The sheer number and variations of international non-government organisations (INGOs) and NGOs involved in a huge range of UN funded projects created an overlapping of services and in many instances glaring gaps in the education sector. Since independence in 2002, underdeveloped political institutions and unresolved divisions within the national political leadership gradually undermined the very fragile nation, leading to a total collapse of state security in 2006. The Timor-Leste government requested the return of international peacekeepers. Timor-Leste held presidential and parliamentary elections with the help of the UN in 2007. There were three rounds of voting, which saw more than 80% of registered voters taking part in a mostly peaceful ballot. While the results were accepted quickly, no single party obtained an overall majority, and disagreement over the right to assume leadership led to a new wave of violence in the country. Considering the ongoing political turmoil of this tiny new nation since its independence, and an attempt to rebuild the government, health and education sectors, it is no wonder that its population remains one of the poorest in the world, ranked 134 out of 187 UN countries (UNDP, 2013).

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Timor-Leste’s total population is estimated by the UN at approximately 1.2 million (UNDP, 2013), with more than 20 languages being spoken, including the official languages of Tetun and Portuguese. The working languages are English and Indonesian in addition to more than 15 Indigenous languages. There are significant gaps in infrastructure, as in a poor national road network and extremely limited telecommunications, and less than 1% of households have access to the Internet. Power is supplied to only one-third of households. All these issues are compounded and add to the continuous disruptions to Timor-Leste’s educational system, which have had a major effect on human capacity. The Demographic and health survey of 2009-2010 (NSD, 2010) shows that 37% of women and 30% of men have never been to school. It also reported that more than 70% of the population is illiterate. As this country is still in the very early stages of development and nation-building, the key developmental challenge is the limited human and institutional capacity to support this development. The USAID (2011b) report, Timor-Leste public financial management risk assessment framework: Stage 1 rapid appraisal, highlights the need to increase the capacity of the existing employed Timorese, particularly in the education sector, as this has been an ongoing matter and many projects have tried to address this. There are and have been numerous international agencies and organisations involved in some form of change management and capacity building in Timor-Leste since its independence. There is little evidence of ongoing positive change that can be attributed to this multitude of overseas interventions, especially in the education sector. Improving the quality of education and expanding school systems are important goals of government in developing countries such as Timor-Leste. This chapter will explore the demands that the management of educational change currently underway in Timor-Leste places on the newly appointed quality school inspectors and their teachers as they introduce a new curriculum for the basic education years, in order to provide the CDU team with a better understanding of the context as it embarks on planning and delivering professional development through CDU’s biennial Steps to the Future workshop. The workshop also has been suggested as a potential site for CDU Master of Education International (MEDI) students to engage in educational change and leadership training.

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Study Design In order to provide the project with relevant contextual background, it is critical to investigate the context in which the school inspectors are operating. To this end, a literature review will be conducted. It is expected that the review will offer insights regarding the forms of assistance that will need to be considered for the cooperative planning between staff from CDU and the Ministry of Education Timor-Leste to ensure appropriate and targeted professional development for the teachers and school inspectors. The literature review will explore theoretical ideas and case studies in developing countries with a similar background to Timor-Leste so as to provide the project with relevant considerations. The framework that will be used was initially proposed by Christensen from the Harvard Business School (HBS, 2010). The key aspect of his methodology is the focus on understanding the “job to be done”. The idea apparently is not new, as it was already argued in 1959 by Levitt from the HBS, who advocated that the job of business “is not to make products or services”, but to “create and keep a customer” (Christensen & Eyring, 2011, p. 292). In terms of the notion of “the job to be done”, Christensen and Eyring cite Levitt saying that “[p]eople don’t want a quarter-inch drill, they want a quarter-inch hole” (p. 292). In other words, people do not want a product, they want an experience or an outcome. Once the “job to be done” is clear, the interested parties can begin to make decisions regarding all that will need to be provided “so that they will sum up to nailing the job perfectly” (Christensen as cited in Jones, n.d.). And if we understand experiences that we need to provide that then tells us what we need to integrate and how we need to integrate it so that we can provide the experiences to get the job done perfectly. (HBS, 2010)

Following Christensen’s framework, the analysis section in this chapter begins by identifying the different aspects of the “job to be done” in relation to an array of dimensions in order to reveal what is already known and to account for unexpected considerations. The analysis examines the functional, social, political, cultural/historical, linguistic and pedagogic characteristics of the context of the Timor-Leste educational reform. In the next step, the aim is to specify the experiences that need to be provided (or “purchased”; HBS, 2010) in relation to these different dimensions. Christensen’s framework also requires specification of the attributes of the strategies which need to be assured to provide the

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experiences necessary for the “job to be done”. This aspect of analysis will be covered in the discussion section, which will integrate the key concerns discovered in the literature review and the steps and questions that need addressing for the design of the professional development and the mentoring program, in collaboration with the Ministry of Education, to be critically informed. The chapter will conclude with a summary of the directions that will need to be considered by the designers and collaborators participating in CDU’s biennial Steps to the Future workshops.

What Is the “Job” That Needs to Be Done? The Ministry of Education in Timor-Leste is planning to release a new curriculum for the basic education years which also involves creating new positions of school inspectors in a supervisory role. In many countries school supervision services have had a long history. Many European countries set up their supervision systems and they were generally known as the inspectorate during the nineteenth century. In England, Her Majesty’s Inspectorate (HMI) was established in 1834 and this became a model for a large number of developing countries. In France, the inspection system goes back even further to the Napoleonic era, and has been copied by many of its colonies. For the purpose of this project, it is important to look at previous studies and research in the field of educational supervision. The following research highlights the need for strategic support at the school level which impacts not only on the quality of schooling but also on the recruitment of the school inspectors themselves. It is these issues that CDU in conjunction with the Ministry of Education would be wise to consider. In their study The quality of primary school in different development contexts, Carron and Chau (1996) looked at the developing regions of Madhya Pradesh in India Puebla in Mexico and Zhejiang in China and reported on the influencing factors that make the teaching and learning process more efficient. This case-study research showed that the chances of developing a more efficient teaching and learning process depended, to a large extent, on the availability and maintenance of proper control and support structures at the school level. This, they believe, was closely related to the interactions within schools and between the head teacher and the school inspectors. One of the main reasons for the variation in results of the schools in their study was the difference in the role played by the

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head teacher and the support that he or she received from the school inspector. In Madhya Pradesh, the head teachers of private schools were supported by a School Management Committee, whereas there was no such mechanism in the government schools. They found that the classical supervisory structure had deteriorated to such an extent in the government schools that the necessary backing required by the head teachers in their everyday management of their schools did not exist. Carron and Chau (1996) reported that restoring the system of school supervision and the need to rethink the roles and responsibilities in respect of inspectors, head teachers and local communities from a holistic and integrated perspective are a must for any improvement in the quality of basic education. Wilcox and Gray (1996) were also supporters of a holistic approach and involvement from the community. Olivera’s (1984) study, The role of the school inspectorate in plan implementation: A systematic approach, investigated the role of school inspectors in a series of case studies involving education systems in Sri Lanka, Korea, Tanzania, Zimbabwe, Namibia, Botswana and Mexico. He reported that in many of these countries, experienced teachers were promoted to supervisory positions on the basis of seniority alone rather than on expertise and leadership qualities. This was also evident in the study by Alvarez and Collera (1995). The problem that this creates is not only one of seniority and the number of years of experience but, more importantly, it relates to the nature of that experience. The analysis in Olivera’s (1984) work highlights the undesirable effects of a relatively old age profile on the innovative capacities of inspectors and advisors. Olivera (p. 115) noted that … there is little transfusion of fresh blood into the management body … Young teachers, especially fresh from the university, arrive in schools full of new ideas, which cannot be properly adjusted to “realities” when headmasters and supervisors are too out of touch for real dialogue to take place. Fruitful cooperation between theory and experience is then replaced by more or less polite hostility … The most common complaint is about the authoritarianism that creeps in.

De Grauwe and Carron’s (2009) work, Reforming school supervision for quality improvement, was a result of extensive research into the topic of school supervisors’ experience and preparedness for that position. In their view, systematic induction courses are still rare. Rodinelli, Middleton and Verspoor (1990) addressed the same issue. On the other hand, in countries typically considered as part of the “western world” or which are still under

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their jurisdiction, such as Cote d’Ivoire and Senegal, these courses may take up to a year, as in the case of the Netherlands, or two years, as in West Africa, studying at the école normale before occupying their posts; “The training is meant to improve their supervisory skills and also to strengthen their knowledge of various subject matters” (Rodinelli et al, 1990, p. 15).

What Needs to Be Provided for the Job to Be Done? From a strategic point of view, it is important to maintain a holistic perspective and to make sure that the variety of mechanisms of support for school supervision old and new, internal and external, make up a coherent entity that is focused on improving pedagogical practices in the classroom. A systematic and coordinated approach that has a long-term plan is required to improve the educational supervision in Timor-Leste. Olivera’s (1984) study also looked at the various training that was offered to school inspectors. Of the five Asian countries participating in the International Institute For Education Planning (IIEP) project, only Sri Lanka provided a form of long-term training, of about 6-12 months in a residential setting. In Korea, new school supervisors were offered a fourweek training course. In Nepal, prospective school inspectors were able to take part in the Bachelor of Education (B.Ed.) program. Olivera found that in Bangladesh and Uttar Pradesh, there were no systematic induction courses available, except for some brief orientation on general administrative procedures. In the African countries that were included in the IIEP study, the situation was equally as worrying as the current situation in Timor-Leste. Brief formal induction training programs of only one or two weeks existed in Botswana and Zimbabwe and also previously existed in Tanzania until financial budget cuts ceased this practice. Both Goddard and Leask (1992) and the OECD (1995) Schools under scrutiny report highlight the need for targeted and coordinated professional development as essential if school inspectors are to remain up-to-date on new trends in curriculum, teaching, learning strategies, school leadership and management. De Grauwe and Carron (2007, p. 17) discussed the importance of planning ongoing professional development or in-service training which, in their view, should be practice-orientated and ensure integration of the supervisors to secure coordination and information flow. They stress the importance of in-service training, which they see as a strong, motivating

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factor. Hopes (1991) too supports the idea of the importance of planned ongoing professional development. Arrangements for professional development vary from country to country. Where they exist, they are often short-term and delivered on an ad hoc basis, sometimes by training institutions or individuals without a specific mandate in training supervisory staff. Some professional development courses take place, but they are not integrated within an overall capacitybuilding program. CDU is in a unique position considering its memorandum of understanding (MOU) with the Timorese Government and the involvement and participation of Universities Australia. In early March 2012, Glyn Davis, the Chair of Universities Australia, convened a meeting of the Timor-Leste Education Minister, Dr. Joao Cancio Freitas; the Timor-Leste Ambassador to Australia, His Excellency Mr. Abel Guterres; and vice-chancellors from a range of Australian universities to discuss the engagement of Australian universities with Timor-Leste. The meeting was convened at the request of the Hon. Steve Bracks, AC (Order of Australia), special advisor to the Prime Minister of Timor-Leste, Xanana Gusmao, to consider mechanisms that could improve the coordination of activities undertaken by Australian universities with an involvement or interest in operating in Timor-Leste. The Prime Minister of Timor-Leste wanted to ensure that the support of Australian universities would be aligned with the Timor-Leste Strategic Development Plan 2011-2030 (Timor-Leste Government, 2013). Following on from this meeting, a scoping document was prepared (Universities Australia, 2012) that identified the extent of engagement of Universities Australia in Timor-Leste as compared with the needs identified in the Timor-Leste Strategic Development Plan (Timor-Leste Government, 2013). Thirteen universities indicated an interest in the project and provided information detailing the extent and detail of their work in Timor-Leste. When compared with the Timor-Leste National Strategic Development Plan (Timor-Leste Government, 2013), the document revealed that activities of Australian universities cross into all three key areas of social capital, infrastructure development and economic development. There is considerable emphasis on areas of Australian universities’ expertise, including education and health, which is to be expected, and less emphasis

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on other areas of the institutional framework part of the National Strategic Development Plan, such as defense and security. Some of the initiatives of Australian universities (Universities Australia, 2012) cover dual or multiple areas, such as the Monash Science Centre Program producing science books in local Indigenous languages for children in rural areas. Griffith University has focused on one of its areas of strength and is contributing to the arts and cultural aims of the National Strategic Development Plan, while the University of Sydney has a strong focus on health, Victoria University has focused on education, and Deakin University has been contributing to governance within Timor-Leste’s institutional development aims. Other universities have elected to focus their efforts on one region or one partner, but to contribute across a number of areas, such as the Australian Catholic University and its partnership with the Instituto Católico de Formação para Professores (ICFP) in both health and education and with the Baucau region, focusing on community development through sport. CDU has six clear areas of focus in which the university is engaged with Timor-Leste. These are (Universities Australia, 2012. p. 9): 1. Governance and capacity building in the public service and local government; 2. Education capacity building (institutional and university partnerships, library and staff development including higher degrees by research); 3. Law and order (policy and security); 4. Environment and livelihoods (including climate change, but also costal-marine tourism and marine protected areas); 5. Marine science, Marine biodiversity, conservation and ecosystembased management (Arafura-Timor Sea); 6. Menzies health and medical research. It is the area of education capacity building, particularly staff development, that has been the driving force of this proposed project.

Discussion CDU has made the commitment to continue to develop the relationship with the Ministry of Education of Timor-Leste and provide advice and support in a targeted fashion. In May 2012, the School of Education held a series of meetings with more than 18 of Timor-Leste’s education providers

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and planned a two-day workshop, Steps to the Future – A Cooperative Workshop for Education and Training, under the guidance of the Ministry of Education. This first workshop was funded by the UNESCO Australian Mission and the School of Education, CDU. The workshop was a success, as judged by the number of participants. The program covered bilingual education, teacher education, English language teaching, literacy, language policy, and vocational education and training. Speakers included Kirsty Sword of the Alola Foundation; Peter Kell, Head of the School of Education, CDU (Kell, 2012); and Lorraine Sushames and the author of this chapter, School of Education, CDU. The participants involved a wide cross-section of teachers, academics, development workers, nongovernment agencies and government departments. Following the success of this 2012 cooperative workshop and as part of CDU’s commitment to educational capacity building in Timor-Leste, the planning for the next Steps to the Future workshop is already underway. Discussions between CDU and the Ministry of Education have been guided by the advice and previous experiences of professional development projects in developing countries that are highlighted in the available literature to ensure that education professionals build on the previous experiences and proceed on an increasingly informed basis. Directions which are unique to the Timor-Leste context have not as yet been investigated sufficiently, largely due to the novelty of the change that is being introduced. Drawing on the literature review of the past experiences, Table 1 illustrates a summary of the considerations that were raised and their practical implications on the program. In summary, the following areas for strategy planning emerged as relevant: (a) The need for ongoing, collaborative, informed and versatile support. (b) The relevance of thinking long-term and building partnerships. (c) Working across political interests and frameworks which have shaped Timor-Leste’s identity. (d) Consideration of cultural differences and expectations when working in a setting where, historically, the country was divided and managed to serve foreign interests. (e) Shifting perspectives and epistemologies in which concepts like education and learning are embedded.

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Functional

Bilateral Engagements and Capacity Development Factors that impact on and interact with the provision of a quality experience for Timor-Leste teachers in the context of CDU’s biennial Steps to the Future workshop What is the job of the change that needs to be implemented? The role of the newly appointed Basic Education school inspectors is to monitor the quality of education and, specifically, the quality of teaching in schools in relation to the introduction of the new curriculum for Basic Education. The role of CDU is to assist and mentor the inspectors in assuring that teachers are supported when implementing a new curriculum particularly in the area of formative assessment techniques. What needs to be provided for the job to be done? CDU is well placed in the country through its long association in Timor-Leste with the Ministry of Education and other Government bodies to provide this targeted support and guidance through a cooperative process. A means of delivering this targeted support, the Steps to the Future biennial workshops are due to take place on 18-19 September 2014, potentially also involving CDU students enrolled in the Masters of Education International (MEDI) to act as mentors for the inspectors as part of their international placement study projects.

Social

What are the social aspects of the job of change management? Successive meetings with the Ministry of Education have been the main venue for highlighting the needs within the country. The involvement of CDU academic staff and postgraduate students needs to be carefully monitored as there are major social and cultural differences that need to be clearly understood. CDU must attempt to be not just another international organisation planning and implementing a project based on their ideas and educational values. This needs to be a true partnership that relies on the input and expressed needs and wants of the Timor-Leste education community. What needs to be provided for the job to be done? The Vice Minister of Basic Education and other local education providers should continue discussions and support the School of Education, CDU, in their biennial workshops which form the

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basis for local ideas and provide input to guide the University in future mentoring programs. Political

What are the political aspects of the job of change management? Timor-Leste’s education system is small, with only about 1,200 schools and 11,000 teachers. This can be considered an advantage because, with properly designed and jointly negotiated pilot projects supported by quality frameworks, information flow and collaboration should be easier to manage and implement. However, as there are many players in the education sector and the nature of this work is highly politicised, at times it can cause long delays and require long and repeated negotiations before activities can be launched. The development of the new curriculum for basic education has not been a collaborative process involving teachers and education providers, but rather an “in-house” production of the Ministry of Education and its advisors. Perhaps one of the most sensitive issues in the appointment of supervisors is their experience in the field and the nature of that experience. What needs to be provided for the job to be done? CDU needs to be ever aware of the political history of this tiny nation as well as the current instability in government. Having a regular visible presence in the country through Steps to the Future workshops, CDU alumni events and ongoing discussions and associations with the Timorese education community, both in Timor and Australia, should ensure strong development of trust and respect for all parties involved.

Cultural / historical

What are the cultural aspects of the job of change management? A clear understanding of the Indonesian based-teacher-directed education and formal assessment that has been part of the country’s education policy for more than 35 years is essential for those involved. The idea of formative assessment for young children is now being implemented as opposed to the rigid testing procedures of the past. What needs to be provided for the job to be done? Some training has been provided to teachers regarding the new curriculum and assessment requirements, however not in the

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Linguistic

What are the linguistic aspects of the job of change management? This is a highly contentious area as there are two official national languages: Portuguese and Tetun. These are the languages of “instruction”, yet there are 13 districts in TimorLeste, each having its own language or dialect. Children are attending school having neither official language and very little teaching is undertaken using their mother tongue. Indonesian and English are the working languages, particularly of finance and international negotiations. The combination and use of such a variety of languages in the country can often result in an individual not having a good grasp of any one language sufficiently to reach their social and professional potential. Therefore, an awareness of the difficulties that this has caused in Timor’s history (and is still causing) needs to be taken into account when delivering professional development and mentoring key personnel. What needs to be provided for the job to be done? Any professional development training or mentoring of teachers and/or school inspectors requires the use and understanding of the Tetun language. It is recommended for CDU staff and education master coursework students to undertake some Tetun language classes prior to delivery of the program. Also, the use of experienced educational translators of English into Tetun is important for official meetings and presentations in-country.

Pedagogic

What are the pedagogic aspects of the job of change management? Due to the unstable nature of the country and the continually changing educational environment, the introduction of a new concept, such as formative assessment, needs to be accompanied by rigorous practical training accompanied by a strong research evidence base, particularly at the leadership level of the school inspectors. The evidence and practice of this pedagogic change from a one-off test-based assessment to one of ongoing formative assessment that can guide the teachers in the design

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and delivery of students’ learning experiences is a major change for Timor-Leste’s education sector. What needs to be provided for the job to be done? Careful, cooperative planning by CDU and the Ministry of Education is needed to ensure that the target group is supported before, during and after the targeted professional development training. The ongoing work carried out by the school inspectors could be monitored through the mentoring program offered by the MEDI students. It is understood that the MEDI students are already proficient in pedagogical strategies that will enable the school inspectors to feel confident and supported in their understanding of formative assessment techniques that are to be implemented in line with the new curriculum for basic education.

Table 1: Factors that impact on and interact with the provision of a quality experience for Timor-Leste teachers in the context of CDU’s biennial Steps to the Future workshop.

Summary The literature review and the discussion that followed together offer a direction for the planning and design of the professional development and the mentoring program developed by CDU in collaboration with the Ministry of Education. It appears that even though the way forward in Timor-Leste’s education has not been clear, capacity development is and should be a priority. Thus, through joint planning by CDU and the Ministry of Education, efforts will need to concentrate on: x Continuing workshops with locally-informed educational themes e.g. formative assessment and leadership. x Internationalisation of professional development programs with local and international presenters to engage Timor-Leste educators in concept-forming discussions on the priority themes. x Assisting with practical hands-on workshops to explore and explain the priority themes. x Integrating new generations of leaders, including postgraduate education course students from CDU and students from other programs, to work in conjunction with school inspectors and as mentors in the education sector.

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The literature review and the discussion also highlighted efforts needed to increase national capacity (at central and decentralised levels). These should be incorporated from the initial phases of discussion and planning. The building of trust and good interpersonal relationships can be difficult to establish, and it is essential in an organisation, such as CDU, to make a meaningful impact. In a post-conflict situation, where there has been significant donor interest, consultants come and go within short periods of time. Although it is costly for technical experts to spend significant amounts of time in-country, it is still possible to ensure a long-term commitment to work on a specific area of need. Multiple and regular visits by the CDU colleagues over a period of years will help develop relationships and build mutual trust. Showing respect for the expertise and knowledge of the Timor-Leste professionals is even more important and indispensable in setting up a successful capacity development plan. The construction of such a plan, even if it is a small one, will take time and will help identify areas where specific skills or knowledge are needed. Cooperatively planned and targeted professional development for teachers and school inspectors in Timor-Leste together with the development of a greater expertise base through the integration of skilled professionals enrolled in postgraduate programs are the aims of this joint project in capacity development for Timor-Leste.

References Alvarez, A. V. & Collera, P. (1995). The Spanish inspectorate in search of a modern model of inspection. In O. Boyd-Barrett & P. O’Malley (Eds.), Education reform in democratic Spain, 153-164. London: Routledge. Bing Wu, K., Filmer, D. & Beegle, K. (2002). Education and poverty in East Timor. Washington, DC: The World Bank. Carron, G. & Chau, T. N. (1996). The quality of primary schools in different development contexts. Paris. UNESCO/IIEP. Christensen, C. & Eyring, M. (2011). The innovative university. Changing the DNA of higher education from the inside out. San Francisco: JosseyBass Higher and Adult Education. De Grauwe, A. & Carron, G. (2007). Reforming school supervision for quality improvement. Paris: International Institute for Educational Planning (UNESCO). Goddard V. D. & Leask, M. (1992). The Search for quality. London: Paul Chapman Publishing.

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HBS (Harvard Business School). (2010). Integrating around the job to be done. Harvard Business School Module Note 611-004. Retrieved October 29, 2015, from: http://www.public.navy.mil/fltfor/nwdc/CRIC%20Articles/Integrating_ Around_the_Job_to_Be_Done[1].pdf. Hopes, C. (1991). The role of inspectorate and inspectors in the development and monitoring of school management and effectiveness. Paris: OECD, DEELSA. Jones, A. (n.d.) Clay Christensen. RIPTIDE website. A project of the Shorenstein Center on Media, Politics and public Policy. Retrieved October 29, 2015, from: http://www.digitalriptide.org/person/claychristensen/. Kell, P. (2012). Steps to the future: A big success in East Timor. Education on the Move, 2(3), 5. Retrieved April 28, 2016, from: https://www.yumpu.com/en/document/view/22007711/education-on-themove-newsletter-vol-2-iss-3-charles-darwin-/5. NSD (National Statistics Directorate [Timor-Leste]). (2010). Timor-Leste demographic and health survey 2009-10. Dili, Timor-Leste: Ministry of Finance [Timor-Leste] and ICF Macro. OECD (Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development). (1995). Schools under scrutiny. Paris: OECD, Centre for Educational Research and Innovation. Olivera, C. E. (1984). The role of the school inspectorate in plan implementation: A systematic approach. Paris: International Institute for Education Planning (IIEP). Pederson, J. & Arneberg, M. (1999). Social and economic conditions in East Timor. New York: International Conflict Resolution Program School of International and Public Affairs. Columbia University. Retrieved October 29, 2015, from: http://www.fafo.no/~fafo/images/pub/1999/929.pdf. Rodinelli, D., Middleton, J. & Verspoor, A. (1990). Planning education reforms in developing countries. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Timor Leste Government. (2013). Timor Leste Strategic Development Plan 2011-2030. Dili, Timor Leste: Palácio do Governo. UNDP (United Nations Development Programme). (2013). Human Development Report 2013. The rise of the South: Human progress in a diverse world. New York: United Nations Development Program. Retrieved October 29, 2015, from: http://hdr.undp.org/sites/default/files/reports/14/hdr2013_en_complete.pdf. Universities Australia. (2012). Australian university engagement with Timor-Leste. Canberra: Universities Australia.

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UNTAET (United Nations Transitional Administration in East Timor). (2000). Humanitarian pillar situation report 09-15. Retrieved October 29, 2015, from: http://reliefweb.int/report/indonesia/untaethumanitarian-pillar-situation-report-09-15-nov-2000. USAID (United States Agency for International Development). (2011a). Timor-Leste country development cooperation strategy 2013-2018. Retrieved April 17, 2016 from: https://www.usaid.gov/sites/default/ files/documents/1870/cdcs-timor-leste-2013-2018.pdf. —. (2011b). Timor-Leste public financial management risk assessment framework: Stage 1 rapid appraisal. Retrieved April 17, 2016 from: https://www.usaid.gov/sites/default/files/documents/1870/cdcs-timorleste-2013-2018.pdf Wilcox, B. & Gray, J. (1996). Inspecting schools: Holding schools to account and helping schools to improve. Buckingham: Open University Press.



THE IMPACT OF SKILLED MIGRATION ON THE PHILIPPINES DAWNIE AMANTE TAGALA CHARLES DARWIN UNIVERSITY, AUSTRALIA

Abstract The Filipino people have one of the world’s largest populations of migrants living abroad. Among these migrants are highly skilled professionals who, arguably, have been lost to the economy of the Philippines. This substantial migration has sparked debate as to whether its effects are beneficial or harmful to the Philippines and its people. Filipino emigration is considered by some as “brain drain” while others argue that it contributes significantly to the development of the home country. This chapter argues that the impacts of migration on the Filipinos and the Philippines are complex and need appropriate framing which goes beyond surface speculations. The chapter offers a framework for understanding the effects of this migration and sets the foundations for a more indepth study of its impacts on both the migrants and the people in the home country.

Context of the Project “Brain drain” is a term that resurfaces from time to time around discussions on globalisation. The juxtaposition of the words “brain” and “drain”, on a lexical level alone, already creates a negative connotation. That negative connotation may just be rightly justified. If the brightest and most talented people in a country leave, what happens to the capacity of their home country? What are the impacts of “brain drain” on a country, especially one with a developing economy, such as the Philippines? Is it possible for “brain drain” to be actually advantageous? If so, should the “brain drain” metaphor be an appropriate term to use?

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This chapter investigates the adverse and beneficial effects of the “brain drain” phenomenon, particularly as it relates to the Philippines. It will challenge the common view that “brain drain” is a negative phenomenon. First, a brief overview of migration as the trigger of the “brain drain” process is provided. Next, a framework for thinking about “brain drain” is presented, and the history of its impact on the Philippines is discussed. The factors that drive “brain drain” are also reviewed, followed by an examination of the benefits and adverse effects of the “brain drain” process.

Migration as the Trigger of the “Brain Drain” Process The Philippines has a long history of emigration, which dates back to the mid-1960s. The records of the Commission on Filipinos Overseas (CFO) show that from 1981-2011, over 1.8 million Filipinos emigrated to other nations (IOM, 2013). Among these are professionals who had completed tertiary education, who were already in the workforce, who had significant professional experience, and who held key managerial positions (Alburo & Abella, 2002). These emigrants were mostly in the age group 25-59 years (48.01%) — generally considered the productive years of a person. While 69.98% of these emigrants were not college graduates, a substantial number, 29.94%, had completed tertiary education or higher (CFO, 2014). This educated population constitutes a human capital essential for governance, innovation, and production of the country. The fact that a considerable fraction of the highly-skilled population is leaving is cause for worry for the Philippines and also other developing and transitional nations. Nigeria is another country experiencing negative outcomes from emigration. Its government was initially against international emigration because of the possible negative impacts on local development and issues with human trafficking. It is only very recently that it has decided to harness the potential gains that may flow from the emigration of highlyskilled young Nigerian professionals. However, the promised gains have not outweighed the impacts of the “brain drain” on the country (Baggio, 2009). Ghana too is in the same predicament. There is large scale emigration of health professionals, which includes doctors, dentists, pharmacists, med-techs, nurses and midwives. This exodus has diminished the capacity and quality of the health sector of the country, resulting in infant, under-five and maternal mortality (OECD, 2007). In Afghanistan,

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there is also a powerful motivation for young Afghans to emigrate. The lack of personal safety, pollution and poor living conditions push Afghan professionals in the academic disciplines of science, technology, education and medical sectors to leave their country. “Brain drain” is further hedging political and economic developments in Afghanistan (Younossi, 2006). Even China, which is a major global economic player, is experiencing the loss of investors, entrepreneurs and other well-educated individuals. The Chinese government is currently inviting highly-skilled immigrants in an effort to reverse the brain drain to prevent any imbalance in the outflow and inflow of talent. However, this effort, which was launched six years ago, is reported as having had limited success (Banu, 2014). The brief discussion above shows that migration is not solely a concern for the Filipinos. In developing countries, it can pose some threats. In order to prevent this, a better understanding of the migration process and its impacts is needed to respond to these challenges.

When is Migration Good or Bad? The literature on migration focuses largely on its negative effects on the home countries and the countries of destination. It includes substantial discussions on human trafficking, illegal recruitment, border security, loss of jobs and “brain drain”. Common perceptions of migration include a decrease in human capital stock, little to no return on public investment in education, costs to families and households of migrants (Wescott & Brinkerhoff, 2006), and a deterioration in capacity and quality in sectors that are affected by the outflow. There is, however, emerging literature on the positive effects of international skilled migration. For instance, remittance is regarded as a massive contributor to the development of the home countries (Faini, 2003; Wescott & Brinkerhoff, 2006; Ang, Sugiyarto & Jha, 2009; IOM, 2013; Kell, Cameron, Joyce & Wallace, 2013). Another positive effect is the improved participation in higher education in the countries of origin (Faini, 2003; Beine, Rapoport & Docquier, 2003; UNCTD, 2012; Commander, Kangasniemi & Winters, 2004). The acquired skills and knowledge of returning migrants are also found to be beneficial (Faini, 2003; UNCTD, 2012). While these beneficial and adversarial impacts of international migration are true, it is important to look at other factors to assess when these effects actually take place. To have a better understanding of the impacts of

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migration, an examination of the stages of migration and migrant profiles needs to be considered.

Stages of Migration The OECD (2007) identifies five stages in a migration cycle: (1) exit, (2) adjustment, (3) consolidation, (4) networking, and (5) return. Each of these stages has different effects on the home country in terms of labour supply, productivity, remittance, growth and poverty reduction.

Exit This phase refers to the actual departure of emigrants to other countries. The direct effect of this process is the decrease in human capital stock which may result in local labour shortages. It may also affect the production of goods and services and, potentially, the productivity and economic growth of the region or the whole country. Deterioration in capacity and quality of the workforce may follow. For example, the health sector in the Philippines has suffered the loss of senior nurses, which then impacted on the training of new ones, markedly reduced nurse to patient ratios, and resulted in deaths due to lack of medical attention and the closure of hospitals (Lorenzo, Galvez-Tan, Icamina & Javier, 2007). This is also the stage where strains on migrant families and households are heavily felt due to anxiety induced by separation, potential changes in gender and family roles, and children’s education. Furthermore, children of migrant parents experience sadness, and migration can cause stress in marital and parental relationships (Baggio, 2009). Migration expenses also create additional stress as the money saved for the departure is quickly spent on medical examinations, the processing of documents, accommodation and travel. Migration can be a very costly experience.

Adjustment This is the stage when migration experiences a boom and enrolments in higher education grow as the prospects of working abroad seem enticing. The drawback of this phenomenon is that once educated, the graduates leave and this then perpetuates the process of “brain drain”. However, on the flip side, if all graduates remain in the country, the local labour market

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will need to bear the burden of employing this educated population when they return. At this stage, there are still no visible signs of improvement in terms of national growth, poverty reduction, remittances, and productivity. Affected sectors like education still continue to suffer.

Consolidation In this phase, remittances start to flow into the country of origin. These remittances can be very helpful in economic terms. They stimulate spending by consumers, and this increases the demand for and supply of products and services. This further leads to the growth of businesses and a demand for labour. Productivity, growth and poverty reduction increase. In a nutshell, this is the stage when the country begins to experience an economic boom. The correct use of remittances to maximise their potential is most crucial at this point. They are used to their full potential when they are spent on productive investments like education, housing and medical care, and much less on conspicuous consumption (Ang et al., 2009).

Networking This is the stage when the link between migrants and their countries of origin is at its strongest. At this stage, ethnic communities and alumni, professional and other hometown associations engage with the home country in activities which involve knowledge transfer or exchange, philanthropic endeavours and similar activities. Productivity, growth and poverty reduction all increase because of the exchange, trade and investments that follow. This is when the acquired skills and knowledge of migrants may begin to be of significant use. Remittances, on the other hand, no longer play a role as, by this stage, family members would have already been reunified in the host countries.

Return This phase refers to a period when migration will have nearly exhausted a nation’s human capital and has created a shortage in local labour supply. Efforts are made to invite immigrants from other countries, as well as return migrants, to fill the labour shortage. The originally home countries now become the new host countries and labour supply increases once again. The impact of this process on productivity, growth and poverty

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reduction will depend on the extent to which the increase in labour supply is matched with labour shortages. Careful planning is needed to ensure that the skills and knowledge offered by the new immigrants and return migrants are the sets of skills required by the local labour market.

Skill Profiles of Migrants The OECD (2007) also highlights the significance of the skill profiles of migrants. Skill profiles help in the planning of the human resources of a country.

Low-skilled Migrants It is estimated that migration of low-skilled individuals has a positive effect on their families and communities by alleviating poverty and improving household economies (OECD, 2007). It is important to note that while low-skills migration might contribute to poverty reduction, this does not mend inequality. In fact, it widens the gap because any future benefits from this form of migration tend to flow mainly to the families, and less to the broader community. At the same time, when low-skilled workers leave employment, their positions are filled by the unemployed. This means that the unemployment pool is being reduced and that wages may also increase.

High-skilled Migrants High-skilled migration has both negative and positive impacts on home countries. The aggressive recruitment of high-skilled workers to highincome countries sends a message to the developing countries that education and experience do matter. This results in high enrolments in higher education institutions in areas which are in demand in the host countries. However, this enrolment does not translate into jobs as graduates leave and seek employment abroad. In a country where higher education is subsidised, this is a costly outcome, as these individuals could have contributed to the productivity and governance of their country. Still, in some cases, the developing countries may not have a big enough market for the high-skilled jobs they teach. On the positive side, when migrants return, the sending country benefits from the expertise they bring home and the skills which they can now teach to new students/apprentices.

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The mixed impacts of high-skilled migration are real and may need to be planned for and integrated into the overall planning of human resources of countries which are most affected by the negative outcomes of migration.

Futures This global scenario has created a predicament for low-income countries that is deemed inevitable, and forward planning may not be a simple task for those countries which are under-resourced and have less autonomy. How, then, can developing countries benefit most from migration? Examples from different countries may help contextualise this question and inform solutions. China’s efforts to reverse the “brain drain” impacts are considered some of the best. For example, the Chinese government offers attractive incentives geared towards high quality living conditions (Westcott & Brinkerhoff, 2006). These include easy options for acquiring a car loan, phone installation, utility services and, in some cases, cash incentives. Prestige, which is highly valued in Chinese culture, is also given great importance. One’s achievements are acknowledged and are widely publicised to encourage others to return to the home country. Ease of travel is also ensured through the provision of green cards that grant those who have obtained foreign passports access to selected cities for a certain span of time. This has improved the mobility of return migrants who might need to travel in and out of the country. China also assists the career development of returnees by funding their research, providing research facilities, like offices and labs, and even supporting them with research staff to assist them in their studies. In the Philippines, growing attention is being paid to developing and implementing policies that take advantage of international high-skilled migration. These efforts are focusing on harnessing the potential of diaspora networks, leveraging off international remittances, and encouraging return migration. In addition, changes in the vocational higher education sector are underway to ensure its quality and ability to respond to the needs of the international labour market, rather than the domestic demand only.

Diaspora Networks Governments of developing countries experiment with diaspora networks to facilitate the transfer of knowledge and skills acquired by migrants in

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the host countries. Westcott and Brinkerhoff (2006) describe how in 1987, the Department of Foreign Affairs in the Philippines set up the Science and Technology Advisory Council (STAC) to advance science and technology and to use it as an important tool for development of the Philippines. The program aimed to promote computer literacy, the development of entrepreneurial skills and assistance with research grants. The same Department also supported the Transfer of Knowledge through Expatriate Nationals (TOKTEN) program, which was set up by the United Nations Development Program (UNDP) to match Filipino volunteers from abroad with the existing projects in the Philippines. The Balik Scientist Program is another government initiative which makes use of diaspora networks. It was set up by the Department of Science and Technology (DOST) in an attempt to use the expertise of expatriate Filipinos to support the development of science and technology in the Philippines. These examples of government programs have regrettably been discontinued due to the lack of awareness of their importance and the lack of resources to continue them. However, it is fortunate that people themselves have taken positive steps to assist in similar endeavours. Ang (2008) mentioned in a lecture at the Dalhousie University, Canada, that Filipinos who completed their doctoral degrees in electrical engineering at Stanford University have created the Brain Gain Network, an organisation of highly-skilled engineers and scientists who seek to support advances in technology in the Philippines. They organise mentoring activities and provide assistance in starting up “technopreneurship” in the Philippines. There is also the Philippine Nurses Association of America, which supports nursing education faculty development in Philippine medical schools. There are also Filipino alumni associations, like the Asian Institute of Technology in Thailand, which promote local development plans. They provide consultancies to local governments, as they did, for example, in Cebu. It is not only knowledge networks that have come about from diasporas, but philanthropic networks as well. Westcott and Brinkerhoff (2006) report that there are several organised Filipino communities whose aims are to improve the infrastructure of their hometowns, including schools, churches, and other buildings. There are also organisations, such as the Lingkod sa Kapwa Pilipino (LINKAPIL), which direct the flow of donations coming in to aid victims of calamities. This assistance was very helpful after the eruption of Mt. Pinatubo and other disasters, like typhoons and earthquakes (Ang, 2008). This aid is in the form of financial

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assistance (e.g. scholarships and money lending), material assistance (e.g. medical equipment and school supplies), and professional services (e.g. medical missions, lectures and training).

Remittance International organisations, like the Asian Development Bank (2004), have outlined the policies of the Philippines on maximising the benefits of international remittance to the country. One of the incentive programs was the Balikbayan Program, which gave returning migrants an exemption on duties and taxes on the import of personal household items, travel and capital equipment to start a business. The government’s Dual Nationality Act also allowed migrants to own properties, investments and savings in the Philippines even while being citizens of a different country. Schemes of this kind create development and employment opportunities. Local governments have also started initiatives, including matching migrants’ resources with local partners who might use them. Exemptions were given on income and property taxes. Other government endeavours to leverage international remittances include programs on housing and social security through the Pag-ibig Fund and the Social Security System. The country also provides financial literacy programs, savings mobilisation programs and seminars on consumer awareness. Non-government organisations (NGOs) established by migrants are also exempted from income tax and enjoy other tax-related benefits.

Return Migration While migration policies in the Philippines are heavily focused on working with Filipinos who are abroad, attention is also paid to returning migrants. Go (2012) suggests that return migrants are valuable because of their experience and knowledge, which can be used to stimulate development in the Philippines, to improve existing mechanisms or create new ones. The savings generated by those migrants can also be used for productive investments that provide goods or services. In many cases, returning migrants can help reverse the adverse effects of international skilled migration. Policies in this regard include a reintegration program comprising both psychosocial and economic needs. The psychosocial program involves family counselling and stress debriefing. The economic needs program includes community-based livelihood projects and other income-generating projects, skills training, business forums, and credit lending.

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In comparison with China, the Philippines has taken a different approach to returning migrants. China’s initiatives have the clear goal of reversing the impact of the “brain drain” with the help of returning migrants and new immigrants through initiatives and policies which place an emphasis on incentives which directly benefit the recipients (good working and living conditions, prestige, and career development support) and are much less concerned with community development. Still, their travel rules are similar to the conditions set up by the Dual Nationality Act in the Philippines, with each country making it easier for individuals to benefit personally from the scheme. On the other hand, the policies in the Philippines appear to be more balanced as they look after the welfare of both individuals and the community. The critics of the Chinese model point out that Chinese initiatives and programs thus far have had limited success (Westcott & Brinkerhoff, 2006). This needs a more in-depth analysis as these policies inform and impact on collaboration schemes among communities, educational institutions and the countries in question.

What to Do with all these Policies? The OECD (2007) published its own approach for enhancing the benefits of international migration. Their report suggests that all involved stakeholders (i.e. governments of host countries, including OECD member countries, and policy makers in the home nations) should make their policies more comparable and coherent. The host countries are encouraged to (1) regulate their recruitment of highly-skilled workers, (2) lower the cost of money transfer and extend their services to rural communities in low-income countries, and (3) link with non-OECD member countries’ human resource department policies. The emigration countries are urged to (1) apply changes in taxation, expenditure and exchange rates, (2) facilitate adjustment and replenishment so that returning migrants do not suffer when they re-enter the local labour force, (3) organise higher education that considers the possibility that graduates might emigrate, (4) expand investments in infrastructure, transportation and communication, and (5) strengthen regional incentives. On reflection, not all of these suggestions may be viable, straightforward or universally applicable. For example, the suggestion that OECD

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countries should regulate their recruitment may, in fact, hamper the current flexibility of the process and may mean that filling their labour shortages could prove to be increasingly difficult. Further, the proposal that financial institutions should lower costs seems unrealistic, although desirable. Also, the proposition that the home countries should take into account the prospect that students may leave the country upon graduation has a number of implications. For one, does this mean that educations should no longer be subsidised, and students should pay for tuition as they do in the U.S.? Also, does this suggest that the curricula should be designed to suit the host countries, and would this imply that relevant knowledge is generic, generalisable and able to be generated by a single (online) university (in the US)? The strengthening of regional incentives is a commendable proposal provided there is funding available to support it. Would the funding be from OECD countries, private organisations or foreign aid? This is not specified, and developing countries would struggle to meet this demand. At the end of the day, regulation is only as good to the extent it is able to help support the people for whom it is designed. This may mean that what suits the people of the OECD countries may not suit the people of China or the Philippines. The discussion in this chapter sought to flag a number of challenges that form the context of the Filipino people and that shape the development of the country which includes its education system, research and planning. In modern times, with countries lowering their boundaries and communication making the boundaries disappear altogether, migration was presented not as a problem, but a phenomenon in its own right which can also be a source of opportunities for building relationships and advancing knowledge, as illustrated through the examples cited in this chapter.

References Ang, D. (2008). Philippine international migration: Causes and consequences. Retrieved November 12, 2014 from: http://philippinesintheworld.org/sites/default/files/Philippine%20Intl% 20Migration_Causes%20and%20Consequences.pdf. Ang, A. P., Sugiyarto, G. & Jha, S. (2009). Remittances and household behaviours in the Philippines. ADB Economics Working Paper Series. Retrieved November 12, 2014 from: http://www.adb.org/sites/default/files/pub/2009/Economics-WP188.pdf No. 188 | December 2009.

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Alburo, F. & Abella, D. (2002). Skilled labour migration from developing countries: Study on the Philippines. Retrieved November 12, 2014 from: http://www.ilo.org/wcmsp5/groups/public/---ed_protect/--protrav/---migrant/documents/publication/wcms_201780.pdf. Asian Development Bank.. (2004). Economic trends and prospects in Asia: Southeast Asia. Manila: Asian Development Bank. Baggio, F. (2009). Enhancing the benefits and reducing the costs of outward migration: Experiences and perspectives from the Philippines. ILO Regional Working Programme on Governance of Labour Migration Working Paper No. 20. Retrieved November 12, 2014 from: http://www.ilo.org/wcmsp5/groups/public/---asia/---robangkok/documents/publication/wcms_105101.pdf. Banu, Z. (2014, March 20). Plugging China’s talent pool. CNN. Retrieved November 12, 2014 from: http://edition.cnn.com/2014/03/20/world/asia/china-brain-drain/. Beine, M., Docquier, F. & Rapoport, H. (2003). Brain drain and LDCs? Growth: Winners and losers. IZA Discussion paper series No. 819. Retrieved November 12, 2014 from: ftp://repec.iza.org/RePEc/Discussionpaper/dp819.pdf. Commander, S., Kangasniemi, M. & Winters, A. (2004). The brain drain: Curse or boon? A survey of the literature. In R. E. Baldwin & A. Winters (Eds.), Challenges to globalization: Analyzing the economics, pp. 235-278. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Retrieved November 12, 2014 from: http://www.nber.org/chapters/c9540.pdf. CFO (Commission on Filipinos Overseas). (2014). Number of registered Filipino emigrants by educational attainment: 1988-2013. Retrieved November 12, 2014 from: http://www.cfo.gov.ph/images/stories/pdf/by_educ2013.pdf Faini, R. (2003). Is the brain drain an unmitigated blessing? WIDER Discussion Papers No. 2003/64. Retrieved from: http://archive.unu.edu/hq/library/Collection/PDF_files/WIDER/WIDE Rdp2003.64.pdf. Go, S. P. (2012). The Philippines and return migration: Rapid appraisal of the return and reintegration of policies and service delivery. ILO (International Labour Organisation) website. Retrieved November 12, 2014 from: http://www.ilo.org/wcmsp5/groups/public/---asia/---robangkok/---ilo-manila/documents/publication/wcms_177081.pdf. IOM (International Organization for Migration). (2013). Country migration report: The Philippines 2013. Retrieved November 12, 2014 from:

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http://publications.iom.int/bookstore/free/CMReport_Philipines2013.p df. Kell, P., Cameron, R., Joyce, D. & Wallace, M. (2013). Global workforce. In R. Harris & T. Short (Eds.), Workforce development, 38-55. Singapore: Springer. Lorenzo, M. E., Galvez-Tan, J., Icamina, K. & Javier, L. (2007). Nurse migration from a source country perspective: Philippine country case study. Health Research and Educational Trust, 42(3 pt 2), 1406–1418. OECD (Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development). (2007). Policy coherence for development 2007: Migration and developing countries. Retrieved November 1, 2015 from: http://www.oecd.org/dev/migration-development/publications-policycoherence-for-development-2007-migration-and-developingcountries.htm. UNCTD (United Nations Conference of Trade and Development). (2012). The least developed countries report 2012: Harnessing remittances and diaspora knowledge to build productive capacities. Retrieved November 12, 2014 from: http://unctad.org/en/PublicationsLibrary/ldc2012_en.pdf. Wescott, C. & Brinkerhoff, J. (Eds.). (2006). Converting migration drains into gains: Harnessing the resources of overseas professionals. Asian Development Bank website. Retrieved November 12, 2014 from: http://www.adb.org/publications/converting-migration-drains-gainsharnessing-resources-overseas-professionals. Younossi, O. (2006, February 9). A brain drain threatens Afghanistan's future. The New York Times. Retrieved November 12, 2014 from: http://www.nytimes.com/2006/02/09/opinion/09iht-edyounossi.html.

ECONOMIC PRODUCTIVITY AND GLOBAL EDUCATION: A CRITIQUE SONYA MACKENZIE CHARLES DARWIN UNIVERSITY, AUSTRALIA

Abstract During the past decades, changes in Australian schools have been informed by global influences, with education being portrayed as a commodity for economic prosperity and productivity. This chapter offers a critique of this new direction. It explores the changes in Australia’s education systems through the lenses of national government policy and global education trends. It discusses the progress of national education initiatives in their vision to provide economic productivity and to ensure Australia’s competitiveness on the global stage. Lastly, the chapter reviews the literature of educational researchers and reflects on their implications to Australian education. The chapter suggests that improving student outcomes and increasing teacher quality must still be the priority of educational reforms. Otherwise, economic productivity through education reforms will remain a paradox.

Introduction During the last three decades, the purpose and culture of schooling in Australia have changed. This change has been effected by global influences which have seen education in Australia, as in many other developed countries, become a commodity for economic prosperity and productivity. This chapter reviews the changes in Australia’s education systems through the lenses of national government policy and global education trends. It examines the progress of national education initiatives in their vision to

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improve economic productivity and ensure Australia’s competitiveness on the global stage. Lastly, it examines the literature with a view to better understanding of the paths that Australia has taken and the futures that they promise.

Setting the Scene One definition of economic productivity suggests that it involves “an increase in the total volume of inputs, that is an increase in the quantity of capital labour used and an increase in the efficiency of which capital and labour are used to produce goods and services” (Green, ‘‡” Ƭ ‰ƒ”™ƒŽ, 2012, p. 16). Current global educational reforms are founded on theories derived from the domain of business and economics and are based on the notion that an increase in the quantity and quality of capital labour is aligned with a focus on developing workforce skills and participation to compete globally in the 21st century’s knowledge society. The last three to four decades have witnessed a growing movement toward global educational reforms in many developed countries, such as the United Kingdom (UK), the United States (US), Canada, France, Germany and Australia. These reforms, based on the marketisation of education and on “similar assumptions, values and characteristics” (Sahlberg, 2006, pp. 259-260), are being led by politicians, business groups and others whose interests lie more in economic productivity and much less in public engagement, culture and values (Levine, 2007, p. 18). A common reform agenda includes standardised curriculum and testing; national testing of students, particularly in literacy and numeracy; professional standards; performance appraisal systems; and national approaches to teacher education as a means of increasing teacher quality and improving school performance and student outcomes. Cranston, Kimber, Mulford, Reid and Keating (2010) link the shift in the purpose of education in Australia with the end of the Whitlam government, in the mid-1970s, and the change in the political agenda of the country. During the Whitlam era, educational control and management were devolved to the states and territories, providing schools with greater autonomy, a democratic strategy which aimed at increasing equity for all students. Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, the Fraser government further decentralised education, however not for the same purposes as the Whitlam government. Instead, the rationale for change was around financial and economic objectives.

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The Hawke and Keating governments followed suit and education policies began to be based on managerial objectives. As Cranston et al. (2010, p. 185) point out, those times in Australia’s political history saw the beginning of education “as an economic tool for Australia’s future prosperity” and so “the platform was set for much of the educational policy developments that followed”. Although their work is based in the US and Canada, Hargreaves and Goodson (2006, pp. 29-31) identify three phases of changes in educational reform which were also replicated in the Australian context. They include optimism and innovation (the Whitlam era), complexity and contradiction (the Fraser Liberal government and the subsequent Hawke and Keating governments) and standardisation and marketisation (the Howard government). Hargreaves and Shirley (2009) redefine these phases as “three ways”. The first way involves innovation and inconsistency based on state support and professional freedom. The second way is the growth of markets and standardisation, and a situation where professional autonomy is lost due to educational standardisation and market competition. Lastly, they identify performance and partnerships which aim to balance professional autonomy with accountability. The authors claim that the “third way”, popularised by centrist parties (Hargreaves & Shirley, 2009, pp. 23-43), was never fully realised due to three distractors, which include the path of autocracy, where there is a resistance to forfeiting political control; the path of technocracy, typified by the collection and use of data for driving improvement and accountability; and the path of effervescence, where, educators rush around, energetically and enthusiastically delivering the government’s narrowly defined targets and purposes … Schools become addictive organisations, obsessed with meeting targets, raising performance standards and adjusting strategies. (Hargreaves & Shirley, 2009, pp. 41-42)

As for myself, as a classroom teacher and corporate educator since the mid-1990s in two of Australia’s educational jurisdictions, I have personally experienced the use of data to measure accountabilities, outcomes and “progress”. The “third way” in Australian schools has not come to fruition, and this is evident in current reform initiatives being handed down through government policy and strategy. Australia is deeply rooted in educational reform for the purpose of economic productivity and global competitiveness. Lingard (2010, p. 141) expands on this point: Globalisation as experienced over the past 30 years or so has been neoliberal globalisation, an ideology that promotes markets over the state and

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regulation and individual advancement over the collective good and common well-being.

Against his discussion of educational reforms in Australia, Lingard (2010) identifies the need for Australia to invest in “policy learning”, rather than blatant “policy borrowing” and other band-aid approaches which recent Australian federal governments have adopted.

Education Reforms to Increase Economic Productivity: What Is Happening in Australia Right Now? In 2008, the Australian government hosted the 2020 Summit, which argued that there is a need to invest in the nation’s capacity for knowledge and imagination and to generate sustainable higher returns from that investment in the form of productivity growth. One of the three goals aligned to this identified need was a focus on building human capital through early childhood development, world-class education, skills formation and innovation (Australian Government, 2008, p. 9). Arguably, the terminology used in this report strongly emphasised such concepts as human capital, productivity, higher returns, and maximising wealth, potential and economy, and, like other initiatives at the time, this reinforced the neo-liberal focus that Australian politics has cemented into the domain of education. This single-minded focus on productivity is echoed by the Council of Australian Governments (COAG), which asserted that “[r]aising productivity is a key focus of COAG’s agenda, and education and training are critical to increasing the productivity of individual workers and the economy” (COAG, 2013). In 2009, the Rudd and Gillard government, through COAG, developed the National Education Agreement (COAG, 2009), which was endorsed by all state and territory education ministers. This can be seen as a move back to centralisation of education, decreased school autonomy and increased focus on teachers and students as commodities. The main policy directions identified through the National Education Agreement were to improve the quality of teachers and school leaders and to ensure high standards and expectations, greater accountability, world-class teaching environments, integrated strategies for low socioeconomic status (SES) school communities and the boosting of parental engagement. Basically, this was a push for quality and accountability measured through the collection of data monitored at a national level.

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Key areas established by the National Education Agreement (COAG, 2009) included the idea of a national curriculum, professional standards for both teachers and principals, performance and development indicators, a focus on consistency of teacher education programs across the nation’s universities and training providers, national literacy and numeracy testing and the national publication of results through the My School website. These measures were meant to develop quality teachers, leading to increased student outcomes and greater accountability for teacher practice and student learning. The Australian Institute for Teaching and School Leadership (AITSL) was established in 2010 to develop and implement professional standards for teachers and principals together with a national certification process for teachers who had reached “expert teacher” levels in skills and knowledge (Ingvarson, 2013, p. 4). .

With this renewed national focus came increased media and public interest in accountability. The practices of schools and teachers became increasingly scrutinised: “[o]n a daily basis we hear damning statements – denigration, abuse, misinformed criticism – about the dire state of education” (Dinham, 2013, p. 98). Eventually, this denigration of education and educators became accepted as denoting an actual state of affairs. As a consequence of this national focus on education reform, Hattie’s (2003) work has been a prime focus in the politics of education. This involved what he describes as a meta-analysis of research on the sources of variance and influence in students’ achievement. His study concluded that of all the variances that he assigned, teachers’ impact on students’ learning equated to approximately 30%. This left around 70% of the variances to other influences, of which Hattie assigned 50% to factors outside the school environment. These numbers were then often used by the media to argue that teachers make all the difference, but as Dinham (2013, p. 93) states, “The work of John Hattie has been misinterpreted and used to criticise teachers, teacher education and teaching”. Still, as reported in the Times Education Supplement, Hattie has very strong views on teacher education: Over the course of our conversation he attacks teacher training as “the most bankrupt institution I know”, says educationalists spend too much time debating “things that don’t matter” and claims too many teachers waste time looking for the “magic bullet”. (Evans, 2012)

The recent political promises outlined in The Coalition’s policy for schools: Students First (Australian Government, DET, 2013) appear to

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promote a return of control to the states and territories. However, this is a very different form of autonomy from that of the Fraser era, as reflected in the quote below: Our policy will encourage school communities to have greater say in how their schools are run. We will do so because the Coalition trusts teachers, principals and parents to do the right thing and to work towards improving educational outcomes for students. (Australian Government, DET, 2013, p. 3).

This statement has rekindled the mistrust of teachers that began to arise during the Rudd/Gillard administration in major Australian newspapers, as evident in the following quote from the Herald Sun, Teachers will have to prove they are improving outcomes for their students to get a pay rise in a new get-tough approach. Principals will also be judged on student achievement, engagement and wellbeing across their schools. (Hosking, 2014) And, Too many mediocre minds are becoming teachers. (Lang, 2014)

For school leaders and teachers, there is an increasing imbalance resulting from the implementation of national and system-led initiatives where accountability has taken precedence over concerns about learning and development. These initiatives have included the establishment of the Australian Institute for Teachers and School Leaders (AITSL), the Australian Professional Standards for Teachers (AITSL, 2012c), The Australia Professional Standard for Principals (AITSL, 2012b), the Certification of Highly Accomplished and Lead Teachers (AITSL, 2012e), the Australian Charter for the Professional Learning of Teachers and School Leaders (AITSL, 2012a) and the Teacher Performance and Development Framework (AITSL, 2012d). Although the foci of these initiatives are predominantly based on learning and development, in practice the programs reflect a managerial culture and technologies of control. The imbalance is evident at a local level in the public school system in the Northern Territory (NT), Australia, in the systemic implementation of the School Annual Performance and Improvement Framework (NT Government, n.d.) and the Teacher Performance and Development Framework (AITSL, 2012d). Both of these are based on cycles of external evaluation and are using student data for measuring performance:

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Economic Productivity and Global Education The Accountability and Performance Improvement Framework (APIF) 2006 is a system of accountability that sets clear expectations of standards for performance and promotes a culture of evidence-based decision making and continuous improvement for DET and schools. The APIF recognises that to achieve high levels of educational outcomes, accountability related to student learning is the responsibility of individual teachers. (DoE, NT, 2006, pp. 2-3).

The School Annual Performance and Improvement Framework (NT Government, n.d.) is at the second stage in the Hargreaves and Shirley (2009) taxonomy, where professional autonomy is viewed as being dominated by forces of educational management, standardisation and market competition.

Where to from Here? Dinham (2012, pp. 95-96) shows that, based on the results of the international Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA) test, Australia appears to be doing well in comparison with countries such as the US, UK, New Zealand, Canada, France and Germany. This achievement, however, does not match the scores of some of the Asian countries. According to Dinham (p. 96), the results are misleading as they do not account for a range of variables, including value systems, which shape what students study and how they are taught. He concludes that, in Australia, “education as a whole is performing much better than many of the corporations and governments that seek to criticise it” (Dinham, p. 96). The implementation and “buy in” of the national initiatives, such as the Australian Professional Standards for Teachers (AITSL, 2012c) and the Australian Curriculum (ACARA, 2014a), has been fragmented. Despite the original endorsement of the National Education Agreement (COAG, 2009) by all state and territory ministers of education, New South Wales, for one, has rejected the implementation of the Australian Curriculum and Queensland has not adopted the Australian Professional Standards but rather has supported its own version (ACARA, 2014b). Queensland and Victoria have managed to sidestep the recognition of quality teachers through a national certification process (AITSL, 2014). When commenting on AITSL’s capacity to develop and deliver a respected professional certification system, Ingvarson (2013, pp. 5-9) offered a range of factors that limit the chances of its success. First, he points to a lack of independence and authority, as AITSL is influenced and

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held accountable through reporting to state and territory ministers of education and representatives of other employing authorities. Second, there is a lack of stable policy context as government decisions keep changing AITSL’s brief. This instability has been especially visible in the case of the Reward Payments for Great Teachers initiative (Australian Government, n.d.), which was introduced and promised during an election and has since been discontinued. Third, there is the failure to appreciate the complexity of the certification process, and this has placed AITSL in the position of implementing it within an unrealistic timeframe, thereby sacrificing the validity and reliability of certification assessment. Fourth, the quality of the descriptors in the national professional standards frameworks (AITSL 2012b, 2012c) present problems which, as Ingvarson (2013, p. 9) says, “are not well grounded in contemporary research” and “do not reflect an underlying theory about development of expertise”. Fifth, governments are not living up to their side of the National Partnership Agreement. Here Ingvarson makes an important point. As state, territory and federal governments retreat from the original agreements, “certification will not realise its capacity to become a powerful driver towards widespread use of successful teaching practices” (Ingvarson, 2013, p. 9). As mentioned earlier, the documents and processes developed by AITSL take the concept of learning and growth as their focus. These documents, given time and support, do hold promise that Australia can move toward what Hargreaves and Shirley (2009) term the “third way”, i.e. where parties aim to balance professional autonomy with accountability. Further, the Grattan Institute report (Jensen, 2014) states that the best way to get more effective teaching is through professional learning that produces better outcomes for students. Fullan (2011) identifies four criteria which advance strategic change and which can be seen as guiding change. In Fullan’s (2011, p. 8) view, they should “foster intrinsic motivation of teachers and students; engage educators and students in the continuous improvement of instruction and learning; inspire collective or team work; and affect all teachers and students”. Fullan suggests that, when based on this type of criteria, reforms can be effective as they work directly on changing the professional culture. Fullan believes that “it is not the presence of standards and assessment that is the problem, but rather the attitude that underpins them” (p 8). Similar understandings are shared by Lingard (2010, pp. 139-140) in relation to Finland’s education reform, where, he believes, “there is a real valuing of

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learning for all associated with schooling” and “a lot of school-based support for learning”. Lessons learnt from the UK and the US demonstrate that a system which takes a narrow view on such concepts as progress or accountability is likely to generate more problems than it solves. The erosion of trust and the detrimental impact of technocratic policies on teachers’ personal and professional lives are visible in the UK and the US and are exacerbated by narrowly focused high stakes testing (Lingard, 2013, p. 137). The result is a distortion of the education process, which now encourages teachers to teach to the test and allocate more time on teaching tested subjects. This phenomenon is now mirrored in Australia, as evidenced by recent media reports. For example, in a statement to the Courier Mail, at the time of schools’ preparations for the National Assessment Program for Literacy and Numeracy (NAPLAN), Mr. Bates, the president of the Queensland Teachers Union, observed that “the reality is that the perception in schools is clearly that it is ‘practice, practice, practice’ ... the pressure on schools is such that they feel that the only option available to them is to forgo the delivery of the normal curriculum” (as cited in Chilcott, 2014).

Conclusion Over the last three decades, the politics of global competition and commodification of education have changed the culture and purpose of education in Australia. The different eras of increasingly conservative federal governments saw Australia borrowing its education policy largely from the UK and the US, without considering the specifics of the Australian context. There is no question that improving student outcomes and increasing teacher quality is important and, as mentioned in this chapter, good steps have been taken in that direction. However, the discussion also documents the fact that Australia is not “there yet” and implementation of strategies that advance change in a direction that is inclusive and accounts for a complex environment is needed. This includes a political commitment to quality, not merely test scores, and a system that is able to critically assess its own progress and impact on Australian schools, their context and the Australian community in general (Hargreaves & Shirley, 2009; Fullan, 2011).

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References ACARA (Australian Curriculum Assessment and Reporting Authority). (2014a). Australian Curriculum. Retrieved November 22, 2014 from http://www.australiancurriculum.edu.au/. —. (2014b). State and territory implementation of the foundation to year 10 Australian Curriculum. Retrieved March 22, 2015 from http://www.acara.edu.au/verve/_resources/State_and_Territory_F10_Australian_Curriculum_Implementation_Timelines_July_2014_v2. pdf. AITSL (Australian Institute for Teachers and School Leaders). (2012a). Australian Charter for the Professional Learning of Teachers and School Leaders. Education Services Australia. Retrieved November 3, 2015 from: http://www.aitsl.edu.au/professional-learning/resources.html. —. (2012b). Australian Professional Standard for Principals. Education Services Australia. Retrieved November 3, 2015 from: http://www.aitsl.edu.au/australian-professional-standard-for-principals. —. (2012c). Australian Professional Standards for Teachers. Education Services Australia. Retrieved November 3, 2015 from: http://www.aitsl.edu.au/australian-professional-standards-for-teachers. —. (2012d). Australian Teacher Performance and Development Framework. Education Services Australia. Retrieved November 3, 2015 from: http://www.aitsl.edu.au/professional-growth/australianteacher-performance-and-development-framework. —. (2012e). Certification of highly accomplished and lead teachers. Education Services Australia. Retrieved April 12, 2016 from: http://www.aitsl.edu.au/docs/default-source/certificationresources/fact-sheet---certification-of-highly-accomplished-and-leadteachers.pdf. —. (2014). Certifying authorities. Education Services Australia. Retrieved November 3, 2015 from: http://www.aitsl.edu.au/certification/certifying-authorities. Australian Government. (n.d.). National partnership agreement on rewards for great teachers. Retrieved November 3, 2015 from: http://www.federalfinancialrelations.gov.au/content/npa/education/rew ards_for_great_teachers/national_partnership.pdf. —. (2008). Australia 2020 summit: Final report. Retrieved November 3, 2015 from: http://apo.org.au/research/australia-2020-summit-finalreport. Australian Government, DET (Department of Education and Training). (2013). The Coalition’s policy for schools: Students first. Retrieved

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November 3, 2015 from: http://lpaweb-static.s3.amazonaws.com/1308-29%20The%20Coalition's%20Policy%20for%20Schools%20%20policy%20document.pdf. Chilcott, T. (2014, May 5). Queensland Teachers’ Union president Kevin Bates warns learning is suffering as school dumps classes to prepare for NAPLAN. The Courier Mail. Retrieved November 3, 2015 from: http://www.couriermail.com.au/news/queensland/queensland-teachersunion-president-kevin-bates-warns-learning-is-suffering-as-schoolsdump-classes-to-prepare-for-naplan/story-fnihsrf2-1226905067222. COAG (Council of Australian Governments). (2009). National education agreement. Retrieved April 3, 2016 from: https://www.coag.gov.au/sites/default/files/20081129_national_educati on_agreement_factsheet.pdf. —. (2013). Schools and education. Retrieved November 3, 2015 from: https://www.coag.gov.au/schools_and_education. Cranston, N., Kimber, M., Mulford, B., Reid, A. & Keating, J. (2010). Politics and school education in Australia: A case of shifting purposes. Journal of Educational Administration, 48(2), 182-195. Dinham, S. (2013). The quality teaching movement in Australia encounters difficult terrain: A personal perspective. Australian Journal of Education, 57(2), 91-106. DoE, NT (Department of Education and Training, NT). (2006). Accountability and Performance Improvement Framework. Northern Territory Government. Retrieved November 3, 2015 from: http://www.education.nt.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0005/15773/Sch oolAPIF.pdf. Evans, D. (2012, September 14). He’s not the messiah ... Times Educational Supplement, September 14. Retrieved November 4, 2015 from: https://www.tes.com/article.aspx?storycode=6290240. Fullan, M. (2011). Choosing the wrong drivers for whole system reform. Seminar Series No. 204. East Melbourne, Vic.: Centre for Strategic Education. Retrieved November 3, 2015 from: http://edsource.org/wpcontent/uploads/Fullan-Wrong-Drivers1.pdf. Green, R., Toner, P. & Agarwal, R. (2012). Understanding productivity: Australia’s choice. Sydney: McKell Institute, University of Technology. Retrieved November 3, 2015 from: http://mckellinstitute.org.au/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/McKell_ Productivity_Report_A4.pdf. Hargreaves, A. & Goodson, I. (2006). Educational change over time? The sustainability and nonsustainability of three decades of secondary

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school change and continuity. Educational Administration Quarterly, 42(1), 3-41. Hargreaves, A. & Shirley, D. (2009). The fourth way: The inspiring future for educational change. Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin. Hattie, J. (2003). Teachers make a difference: What is the research evidence? Paper presented at the Australian Council for Educational Research (ACER) Annual Conference: Building teacher quality. University of Auckland. Retrieved April 3, 2016 from: https://www.det.nsw.edu.au/proflearn/docs/pdf/qt_hattie.pdf. Hosking, W. (2014, May 8). Pupils’ results will now guide teacher pay rise. Herald Sun. Retrieved November 3, 2015 from: http://www.heraldsun.com.au/news/victoria/pupils-results-will-nowguide-teacher-pay-rises/story-fni0fit3-1226909403914. Ingvarson, L. (2013). What happened to the national statement for the teaching profession? SelectedࣟWorks of Dr Lawrence Ingvarson. Australian Council for Educational Research. Retrieved November 3, 2015 from: http://works.bepress.com/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1228 &context=lawrence_ingvarson1. Jensen, B. (2014). Making time for great teaching. Melbourne: Grattan Institute. Retrieved April 29, 2016 from: http://grattan.edu.au/wpcontent/uploads/2014/03/808-making-time-for-great-teaching.pdf. Lang, K. (2014, May 25). Opinion: If we want children to achieve their potential, we must train the brightest teachers. The Courier: Sunday Mail. Retrieved November 3, 2015 from: http://www.couriermail.com.au/news/opinion/opinion-if-we-wantchildren-to-achieve-their-potential-we-must-train-the-brightestteachers/story-fnihsr9v-1226930299019. Levine, P. (2007). Education policy and the limits of technocracy. Philosophy & Public Policy Quarterly, 27, 17-21. Lingard, B. (2010). Policy borrowing, policy learning: Testing times in Australian Schools. Critical Studies in Education, 51(2), 129-147. NT Government (Northern Territory Government). (n.d.) School Annual Performance and Improvement Framework. Retrieved November 3, 2015 from: http://www.education.nt.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/ 0005/15773/SchoolAPIF.pdf. Sahlberg, P. (2006). Educational reform for raising economic competitiveness. Journal of Educational Change, 7(4), 259-287. Retrieved April 29, 2016 from http://pasisahlberg.com/portfoliowritings/selected-writings/articles/sahlberg-p-2006-education-reformfor-raising-economic-competitiveness-journal-of-educational-change74-259-287/.

THEME 4 - DIGITAL FUTURES AND NEW LEARNING

THE INEXORABLE RISE OF THE PROLETARIAN AUTODIDACT ANDREW-PETER LIAN SURANAREE UNIVERSITY OF TECHNOLOGY HO CHI MINH CITY OPEN UNIVERSITY UNIVERSITY OF CANBERRA

Abstract The chapter begins with a brief discussion of the notion of proletarian autodidact and comes to the conclusion that proletarian autodidacts still exist but are more sophisticated and widespread than in the past as a result of technological development. In fact, we are morphing into an autonomous DIY (do-it-yourself) society where everyone is, essentially, a researcher. The chapter also reviews the issue that access to information and communication is much greater than ever before, and “knowledge” is growing at an unprecedented rate. As a consequence, it is also becoming obsolete at an unprecedented rate. In this mass market, these developments pose a problem in relation to how ordinary people can control/assess both the quantity and the quality of information and the way that information is being presented and dealt with. In particular, education is faced with the special problem of how to educate or otherwise support members of society in both formal and informal settings. In an unstable world, the only stability to be generated is intellectual in nature. This, in turn, militates for a shift away from academic education (and toward intellectual education). It also militates for the encouragement of intellectually-based creativity and risk-taking which, in the present research climate, tends to be discouraged. The chapter concludes with the description of several clearly successful intellectual research-based programmes and suggests that the opportunities for creative educational development in the 21st century should not be wasted.

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By way of preamble, it should be pointed out that this chapter was written in the spirit of the symposium which generated it, i.e. to raise questions of research of special interest to postgraduate students at all levels.

Proletarian Autodidacts Then and Now The concept of the proletarian autodidact finds its origins in events which existed in Britain for some time, beginning in the late eighteenth century (Rose, 2001) or perhaps even earlier and lasting well into the industrial revolution, conceivably even today. Briefly, it refers to the practice of persons usually engaged in mind-numbing occupations to seek to educate themselves in all kinds of matters, often, but not always, relating to high culture, something generally inaccessible to them by virtue of their social status and/or their profession. This perhaps unexpected behaviour may be thought of as a reflection of the innate curiosity of human beings and their desire to learn new things – even though conditions for doing so appear to be stacked against them. Proletarian autodidacts overcame many obstacles to self-educate and enjoy the benefits of learning to the extent made possible by the circumstances of life and the social structures in which they were embedded. It seems that humans value being knowledgeable, perhaps as a way of acquiring freedom, that they are driven to self-manage their educational needs and enjoy taking advantage of that freedom whenever it is available. Further, it is most likely that their desire to study specific subjects is motivated by specific personal needs. While 200 or 300 years ago the motivation for the pursuit of knowledge may have been rooted in human nature, as it still seems to be today, one of the enabling triggers for this self-managed educational drive was almost certainly technological in origin, in this case, the prior development (in the 15th century) of the printing press and printed materials which, simultaneously, enabled the distribution of information and helped democratise access to it. Knowledge became available to ordinary people, especially knowledge of the Bible, which hitherto had been under the close control of the church, and information about this new knowledge, or opinions related to it, could be quickly disseminated. The advent of the printing press changed the game. The people took control and created the various forms of Protestantism, and the Western world was never the same again. They had acquired the tools to assert their freedom of will, thought and expression (if not without cost). They took up the challenge, and the change was irreversible.

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In the 21st century, the situation remains unchanged. People still seem to thirst for information and, now more than ever, they have the opportunity to enjoy the freedom of self-managing their personal educational needs as and when they arise (as opposed to planned, even institutionalised, needs, such as attending university). This opportunity is also available on a much larger scale than ever before in the history of humankind (the evidence for this is much more available and compelling today than in the past and can be found everywhere). Again, there is a technology-driven revolution which is changing the world. It is largely, if not entirely, motivated by the Internet, and touches us all irrespective of class. We have been given the tools to assert our freedom of will, thought and expression (again sometimes at a cost), and we have taken up the challenge. And the change is irreversible. In particular, the Internet has provided ways for us to connect with each other, to share ideas and information, and to create solidarity and affinity groups. Potentially, even the smallest voices can be heard, and we have seen some interesting examples of change energised by the Internet, such as the Egyptian revolution in 2011. Here Facebook played a crucial role in the demise of the government (Knowles, 2011). Realising its predicament, the government attempted to prevent Internet activity but gave up after 24 hours and restored access. At the time, during the revolution, there was simply no way of blocking it, even though some countries have partially succeeded in doing so. The point is that in the long run, these communication barriers are likely to be broken too as people find ways to circumvent them. We, as a society, are now faced with different problems. In particular, we need to face the issues associated with dealing with large numbers of people and the large amounts of available information. That includes identifying and dealing with whoever controls the information that we find on the Internet. Is it the people? Is it the government? Is it the search engines we use, especially Google (the dominant search engine with about 68% of the market share for desktops and 92% market share for tablets in June 2015 (Netmarketshare, 2015a, 2015b))? Search engines can exert an enormous influence on what information gets seen and what information does not. They play a determining role in the order of presentation of their findings. To make matters worse, research shows that, most of the time, average users focus only on the first few entries on a page, on what has become known as the “golden triangle”. This is a right-angle triangle with its origin in the top left-hand corner of the page and extending down for

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about five entries. Anything outside that triangle tends to be less visible (Hotchkiss, Alston, & Edwards, 2005). What impact can search engine positional control of items create on our thinking and, more broadly, on education? Are outliers actually made visible and respected or is only dominant or otherwise privileged information ever seen? And, when we do receive that information, how do we judge it? The exponential growth in technology does not appear to be matched by our intellectual growth in all fields, including education. We can now do better and more effectively many of the things that we had always done before or, in some cases, wanted to do. Of course, by their very nature, these things are based on thinking from the past and, in general, tend to be backward-looking (though not necessarily out of date). The problem here is that we often tell and re-tell the stories (theories, experiments, conclusions) from the past. What, then, is radically new? As Marshall McLuhan once said, “we look at the present through a rearview mirror. We march backwards into the future” (McLuhan & Fiore, 1996, pp. 7374). While this may be inevitable because of the ways in which human knowledge is constructed, we also need to build bridges into the future and not continually recreate the past simply because that is what has been legitimised or popularised historically. In fact, this is where research needs to be truly adventurous rather than playing it safe and hedging its bets. This is both an intellectual and a sociopolitical problem for fields of intellectual activity, especially for young researchers who are often caught in the predicament of having to craft a career path for themselves quickly and effectively in the context of often conservative dominant intellectual models which govern any field. Many people, perhaps most people, are simply unwilling to undertake research that might slow down their careers for the sake of moving the field forward. The potential to contribute is helped significantly by the flattening of structures brought about by technology (Friedman, 2006) – a bottom-up model of society where everyone can contribute rather than the top-down model from the past which governments tend to perpetuate so as to keep control. Further, these new connections that we are creating are also about creating emotional links between people, because systems like Facebook bring people into our extended field of emotions and move us beyond ourselves – even if it is not our intention to move. In other words, in this new world not only is information shared, but so are emotions, and that necessarily changes the ways in which we relate to each other. Let us look at some of these issues a little more. Technological expansion is accompanied by a huge expansion of so-called “knowledge creation”

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(whatever that may mean). Total average human “knowledge” is increasing at an unprecedented rate (doubling every 12 months (Schilling, 2013)). It is claimed that in due course it will double every 12 hours (Schilling, 2013). “Knowledge” is something that people are interested in but becomes difficult to manage because of its size. Because the amount of available information is huge (about 4.68 billion pages in June 2015 (De Kunder, 2015)) and hard to manage, we have to rely on tools like search engines, especially Google. However, because we (especially the academic community) tend to work with old models of knowledge management, reliance on search engines has led, in some cases, to new fears such as “Instead of remembering, people will just use Google”. This is called the Google Effect and has triggered published research on the phenomenon (e.g. Sparrow, Liu, & Wegner, 2011). It is reminiscent of the calculator panic of the 1970s (which amounted to very little in the end as human beings did what they do best, which is to adapt to the new situation). What is happening now, however, is that because there is so much information which is often changing, and because people are more interested in meeting their needs directly rather than engaging in formal education, we are moving from a just-in-case mode of operation/learning to a just-in-time mode (A. B. Lian, 2014; A.-P. Lian & Pineda, 2014). As one of many (in this case, positive) consequences, we are now witnessing a new phenomenon that we might call “community intelligence” where, through technology support, people build on each other’s intellectual contributions to solve complex and troublesome problems. Probably the most spectacular manifestation of this is the foldit game, where thousands of people working together solved a proteinfolding problem which had baffled scientists for a decade or so (foldit, n.d.). In an intellectual perspective, maybe we could develop similar models to create “distributed laboratories” or the like where people could maximise their intellectual contributions by resonating with each other to solve intriguing common problems. The creation of intellectual communities such as the Foldit group (more than 240,000 people worked together to solve a single problem) (Marshall, 2012) points to the fact that, perhaps contrary to popular belief, there actually is considerable societybased interest in intellectual activity. Further, the fact that in a one-month period (April 2015) over 18,400,000,000 (18.4 billion) hits were registered from desktop computers in the United States alone (comScore, 2015) and more than 1 trillion queries per year were registered for the Google search engine alone (Search Engine Land, 2015) confirms that not only “intellectuals” but also

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“ordinary people” have enquiring minds, that they have many questions that they want answered, and that they are also actually engaged in intellectual activity (a) to research questions of interest and (b) to answer these questions autonomously (i.e. with little, if any, outside intervention). They are, in fact, becoming their own experts – and this is changing the structure and stratification of society in many ways, including the power relationship between learners and those (still) in charge of learning. As a simple example, in today’s modern university classroom, where each person has his or her own laptop or other communication device, when the lecturer makes a statement, students often rush to check it online and challenge or question the lecturer if their findings do not agree with what is being said. This significantly changes the accountability structures and dynamics of classrooms and places a far greater burden on educators to justify their statements, as they are under constant or immediate scrutiny. The people do have power! And this is happening in a world where not everyone currently has access to the Internet yet. In other words, the numbers mentioned above, and the accompanying scrutiny and accountability, can only grow and grow as people become interconnected, hence the inexorable nature of the process and the title of this chapter. Given the quasi-universality of information access and the accompanying apparent flattening/democratisation of social structures just mentioned (significant, though not universal), we are all, in fact, turning into modernday proletarian autodidacts and creating a mass market for education. We know this because we not only ask questions to solve curiosity-driven or real-life problems, but also for another reason, which is that education actually also matters to us. How do we know this? Well, inter alia, we are enrolling in huge numbers in MOOCs (Massive Open Online Courses – free and not for credit, but can be) even though we are also dropping out of them at a massive rate (Jordan, 2015). This pattern of behaviour also provides some evidence that many of us have no special interest in registering for formal courses. In summary, (a) interest in education is present in society and (b) people are doing it for themselves. We are morphing at a massive rate into a do-it-yourself society where people seek education because they need it in the short term for specific purposes whether educational or otherwise (including satisfying curiosity or even for edutainment). Whereas in the past, a few very determined people were able to attain self-education, now the potential to do so is within almost everybody’s reach. In the context of the ASEAN Economic Community, for instance, when high mobility becomes a reality in 2015, large numbers of people will need high quality effective education in relation to language and culture (English alone will not suffice) (A.-P. Lian & Pineda, 2014).

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The Problem Facing Educational Research Today’s proletarian autodidacts are more fortunate than their ancestors as they have more opportunities to learn and enjoy better support. Yet the intellectual and other tools currently available to them are still not sufficient nor sufficiently adapted to their specific needs for many reasons. This is so, in particular, because, beyond minimal operational knowledge (whatever that may mean in the 21st century), people’s actual learning needs are often unpredicted and unpredictable by virtue of the fact that (a) they are based on people’s operational histories (everyone is different) and (b) because the current context of each person’s activities may vary idiosyncratically, thus placing unpredictable demands on everyone. This is exacerbated by the fact that knowledge, especially technical knowledge, is changing rapidly, so that even the concept of "basic knowledge" has little validity: what can we learn or teach which will be stable and valuable in the long term? What is of universal value? The simple answer is: not facts, but intellect. This, then, is the kind of problem faced by education in general, not just formal education. How, in this unpredictable and ever-changing world, can people be helped to make valuable or “good” decisions to meet their (life) learning needs, to enable them to move forward, while not imposing quickly outdated specific models of thinking, so as to allow them to access both dominant and less dominant representations of knowledge as well as the texts of outliers (which in general tend to be invisible) and to pass valid judgments on all of these? Logically, we need to rethink the ways that we do things, especially our current educational models and practices, because of the great influence of educational processes (in the broad sense) on the ways that people think and act. Currently, our ways of thinking about learning and education are heavily based on the notion of mastery of facts, mastery of techniques and the accomplishment of short-term tasks performed in the short term and tested in the short term. But now that the game has changed, things are more fragile, less tangible, less controllable, less certain, and less comfortable. After all, what "things" can we teach if many of the things that we teach today will not be there tomorrow? A partial solution to this difficulty may be found by engaging people in increasingly greater intellectual, personal, problem-solving activities, thus giving them the opportunity to develop their thinking skills in personally relevant ways by grappling with the multitude of issues that they will need

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to solve for themselves. Over time, they will build up sets of personal understandings which will enable them to deal (effectively) with their personal needs as they arise (in line with the emerging intellectually-based “just-in-time” approach to learning advocated by some (e.g. A. B. Lian, 2014)). Not surprisingly, in the spirit of the above context, research must necessarily take on a critically important role. Lack of original (personal and institutional) research and alternative modes of thinking will inevitably lead to stagnation despite the exponential growth of technology. This has another important consequence. As the areas of knowledge to which people will connect inevitably grow, so will be the need to broaden one’s personal knowledge. In turn, this will lead, just as inevitably, to the necessity to create new connections between fields and disciplines: essentially we will be moving automatically toward interdisciplinarity, especially but not only in the context of the innovative, creative and divergent thinking patterns that already characterise the 21st century. The incidence of creativity and divergence in thinking can be gauged by examining the new crowd-sourcing phenomenon, where large numbers of unknown people with creative ideas can seek financial assistance directly from members of the general public who make small financial contributions to those ideas through a website (e.g. Kickstarter, n.d.), adding to a growing financial endowment for the project. Interdisciplinarity appears set to happen automatically, in a manner beyond the control of people or organisations, as society becomes increasingly well informed, and, with time, linkages between areas of knowledge will form. This places educational structures and educational leadership in the position of needing to bring about a lowering of the academic hedges, allowing more and more connections to be made and encouraging all people to think in more ways than one about the problems that they are facing and need to solve and, specifically in the case of crowdsourcing or financial investment in innovation, develop a good critical apparatus for making good judgments for investing in genuinely valuable innovation. In today’s context, they will need to prepare people (and people are actually preparing themselves) to understand that knowledge is dynamic rather than fixed, constructed rather than found. To achieve this, we will need to try to match, at an intellectual level, the exponential development of technology. How are we to achieve this? First, educators who are genuinely in search of the best solutions for learning problem(s), rather than living comfortable lives, will need to be open-

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minded and to look into all aspects of science which may be of possible relevance to their undertaking, rather than reinforcing and entrenching the boundaries of any particular disciplinary model or engaging in semireplicatory no-risk research. In that perspective, research in all fields is under an obligation to break with traditional dogma, to refresh its thinking, to become truly interdisciplinary, to welcome the contributions of outliers (even if ultimately rejected for good reasons) and to look forward to major change. This does not mean that we should reject our previous achievements or that the past is out of date or useless (though that may be true from time to time as we make new discoveries). It does mean, however, that the past needs to be situated in the context of new ways of thinking rather than solely in the context of the thought structures which generated it. This is an intellectual problem, not a technical one, a question of potentially changing the ways we look at things rather than tweaking what we already have. This is not an argument for accepting or generating chaos, but rather one for broadening and enriching what we already have and for continuing to do so through intellectual and experimental scrutiny – and for developing the academic and sociopolitical structures to enable this to happen.

Academic Goals vs. Intellectual Goals In light of all the above issues and arguments, developing educational systems based heavily on (rote) mastery of specific information (memorisation of facts) and mastery of specific techniques, what we might refer to, broadly speaking, as academic1 knowledge or learning, is likely to

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The following definition applies to primary school children but is generalisable to all contexts: Academic goals are those concerned with the mastery of small discrete elements of disembodied information, usually related to pre-literacy skills in the early years, and practiced in drills, worksheets, and other kinds of exercises designed to prepare children for the next levels of literacy and numeracy learning. The items learned and practiced have correct answers, rely heavily on memorization, the application of formulae versus understanding, and consist largely of giving the teacher the correct answers that the children know she awaits. Although one of the traditional meanings of the term academic is ‘of little practical value,’ these bits of information are essential components of reading, writing, and other academic competencies useful in modern developed economies, and certainly in the later school years. (Katz, 2015, p. 2)

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be less than optimal and needs to be re-positioned in our practices. Instead, what is clearly needed are educational systems focusing less on knowledge and more on the intellect,2 thus empowering learners to act more flexibly and constructively in all possible situations in their lives, to become less conformist, more flexible, more adaptive and better able to cope with the unpredictable changes certain to be brought about by an uncertain intellectual future generated by a society which, by virtue of its own less controlled and less controllable development, will inevitably increase the diversity in the ways that it thinks and goes about doing things. Basically, one can think of it as a form of resilience education, or learning to be resilient. In terms of the traditional definitions of resilience (Luthar, Cicchetti, & Becker, 2000), we are not reacting to the usual forms of threat or adversity, but there is little doubt that diversity (perhaps in the form of change or innovation) is often felt as a threat (Mueller, Melwani, & Goncalo, 2012). And yet diversity is sure to continue to grow. In some very open contexts this diversity will come rapidly; in others, where there may be severe political repression, it will come more slowly, but come it will unless world society is returned to a more primitive level of technology and communication through systems of government designed to prevent freedom of speech and freedom of action in a manner which is even more repressive than what we have today. Even then, the repressive regimes are likely to continue technological development for their own purposes, and clandestine, freedom-seeking, activity will emerge in society in general. In the end, the human spirit, like the proletarian autodidact, is likely to triumph. Intellect-based educational systems in the spirit of what has been described above exist already, are gaining strength and are rising in opposition to such academic models as the currently-popular, and often governmentsupported, Direct Instruction3 . In the end, it is almost a matter of common

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The following definition applies to primary school children but is generalizable to all contexts: Intellectual goals and their related activities ... are those that address the life of the mind in its fullest sense (e.g. reasoning, predicting, analyzing, questioning, etc.), including a range of aesthetic and moral sensibilities. The formal definition of the concept of intellectual emphasizes reasoning, hypothesizing, posing questions, predicting answers to the questions, predicting the findings produced by investigation, the development and analysis of ideas and the quest for understanding and so forth. (Katz, 2015, p. 2)

3

According to Carnine, Silbert, Kame’enui and Tarver (2004):

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sense. We need to help learners develop tools for dealing with the future. The best tool available is the mind.

Moving Forward Three short examples followed by a much longer one will serve to illustrate the strengths of the intellectual agenda.

The Benezet Experiment The first example comes from a primary school study conducted as long ago as 1935 by Louis Benezet, Superintendent of Manchester Schools, New Hampshire, USA. This showed that children who received just one year of arithmetic, in sixth grade, performed at least as well on standard school calculations and much better on math story problems than kids who had received six years of arithmetic training (Gray, 2015).

and What a finding! Benezet showed that five years of tedious (and for some, painful) drill could simply be dropped, and by dropping it the children did better, in sixth grade, than did those who had endured the drill for five previous years. This is the kind of finding that educators regularly choose to ignore. (Gray, 2015)

Why did the children perform better? Apparently because the time that they would have spent on drilling and mechanical exercises was replaced with class discussions where the children were encouraged to talk about any topic that was of interest to them, thus developing interest-based personal intellectual modes of operation which would enable them to deal effectively not only with mathematical training but, even more effectively than their drilled counterparts, also with the story-based problems which normally accompany mathematical training. This is an intellectual skill not

 Direct Instruction is an approach to teaching. It is skills oriented, and the teaching practices it implies are teacher directed. It emphasises the use of small group, face-to-face instruction by teachers and aides using carefully articulated lessons in which cognitive skills are broken down into small units, sequenced deliberately and taught explicitly. Basically, teachers tell students what to do.

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developed under the traditional model of mathematics teaching. In Benezet’s own words, describing how children had dealt with a problem in a multiplicity of remarkably personal and creative ways, “The problem seemed very simple to these children who had been taught to use their heads instead of their pencils” (Benezet, 1935-1936).

The Sudbury Valley Experience The second example comes again from the USA, from experience with the Sudbury Valley School. In that system children are accepted from the ages of 4 to high school age. They are not segregated according to age, there is no formal curriculum or evaluation system, and students pursue their own interests in their own ways, and activity is heavily based on conversation/dialogue. In this way, students access all kinds of unexpected and personally interesting information in ways which are meaningful to them and in ways which respond to their needs and interests of the time. They are not taught “things”, i.e. reified, disciplinary knowledge. Studies have shown that graduates from the school have been successful in the normal range of professions that people engage in, e.g. skilled craftsmen, artists, scientists, social workers, doctors, and so on. Many have pursued higher education with no special difficulties. Follow-up studies by outside scholars (e.g. Gray, 2011) and the school itself (e.g. Greenberg, Sadofsky & Lempka, 2005) seem to confirm its success. Against this background, the specific example to be described next refers to mathematics. At the moment, like it or not, entrance to universities in the USA is regulated by passing the SAT or ACT tests, which include a mathematical component. Sudbury Valley students have not had the years of preparation of others, some have not had any formal mathematics tuition at all. Yet they are able to achieve reasonable SAT scores after a total focused study time in mathematics of between 12 – 30 hours: an impressive and valuable testament to the form of education that they have participated in (Gray, 2015).

Self-organising Learning Environments Our third example comes from India, the home of Sugata Mitra’s Hole-inthe-Wall experiments (Mitra & Dangwall, 2010). There Mitra observed the successful learning experiences of children who self-instructed without teachers simply by being provided with a big question (sometimes no question at all – they then pursued personal interests); a set of rich

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resources, e.g. a computer connected to the Internet; the possibility of working in groups with unsupervised access to information and the freedom to follow whatever path they wished. In one experiment, children taught themselves to pronounce English intelligibly simply by following the instruction to teach themselves good pronunciation by reading passages from their schoolbooks into a speech to text converter and altering their pronunciation by trial and error until the system displayed the words that they were trying to say. No other pedagogic model or instruction was given. The students, working in groups, agreed to the experiment enthusiastically. At the end of three months of study, the self-taught students showed significant improvement, i.e. became intelligible with much less influence from their mother tongue in English. One went on to become a call centre worker. In a second experiment Sugata Mitra tested the ability of ten 14-year-old Tamil children to self-teach themselves basic molecular biology without a subject teacher, using a Hole-in-the-Wall public computer facility (a publicly-accessible computer in a wall connected to the Internet). His team compared these learning outcomes with those of similarly aged children at a nearby average-below average performing state government school who were not fluent in English but were taught this subject and another group of children at a high-performing private school in New Delhi who were fluent in English and had been taught this subject by qualified teachers. (Mitra & Dangwal, 2010)

They found that the village children who only had access to computers and Internet-based resources in the “Hole-in-the-Wall” learning stations achieved test scores comparable with those at the local state school and, with the support of the mediator [not a teacher], equal to their peers in the privileged private urban school. (Mitra & Dangwal, 2010)

So… what characteristics, if any, do the above examples/systems share? The first visible sign is student freedom. But student freedom has a much more interesting, much deeper, side than the mere ability to do whatever they want. Assuming that they actually do engage in learning activities, it means, primarily, that students have the opportunity and the right to construct their own understandings and meaning structures rather than conforming with those expected by the educational system. Second, students also share spaces for dialogue with others and with themselves – collaboration as a means of accessing and assessing diversity of thought

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(actually a diversity of representations of other people’s diverse understandings). Finally, all share access to helpful resources and support — people, software, texts and so on — in a way reminiscent of rhizomatic structure (A.-P. Lian, 2004; A. Lian, 2011; A.-P. Lian & Pineda, 2014). These systems are congruent with the spirit of the proletarian autodidact. While the previous examples were drawn from the primary and secondary school sectors, the principle is in fact generalisable and applicable to all educational sectors.

An Educational Research Project What follows is a much more developed illustrative example of the same kind of logic applied to a doctoral research project in language-learning and provides a detailed intellectual overview of the approach which motivates it. The project to be described is based on five general principles which provide a guiding framework for it. These principles (for detailed argumentation and further examples, see A.-P. Lian, 2004; A. Lian, 2011; A.-P. Lian & Pineda, 2014), while consistent with the practices described in previous sections, were determined quite independently from them and derive from a different logic.

Five Guiding Principles Principle 1: We are physiological beings. Our mind is enclosed in and isolated by our body (we are embodied). Communication between mind and physical world is mediated by a nervous system which can be affected by physical circumstances and, most importantly, by our past, our operational history. Thus, a sensation, such as a smell, is not observed “objectively” but generates a meaning, evokes an emotional response: a set of feelings. Neurological studies confirm this, such as the rubber hand illusion where a person “acquires” a rubber hand in replacement of one of their own. When the rubber hand, not their real hand, is hit with a hammer, they experience real pain even though the rubber hand has no connection whatsoever to their body and their body is not even touched (Derbyshire, Osborn, & Brown, 2013). Conclusion: we do not feel reality. Further, experiments show that we see and feel what we are socialised to see or feel, e.g. colours (Roberson & Hanley, 2007). Just as with the rubber hand, we feel what we are expecting to feel. We predict physical sensations and

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feelings on the basis of our histories. In Peterson’s terms, “We see more of our memory than we do of reality when we look at the world” (Peterson, 2011). Or, in Anaïs Nin’s terms, “We don’t see things as they are; we see things as we are” (Nin, 1961, p. 124); therefore our operational histories are again clearly central. Furthermore, being physiological beings imposes physical limits on what we can do and this may have an impact on some of the communication and other systems that we develop, e.g. language. For instance, our body may actually determine the limits of our breathing patterns which, in turn, impact on the length of breath groups, and this then determines the length of language chunks (i.e. syntactic groupings, sometimes called “thought groups”) which seem to be critically important in language production and processing (McCauley & Christiansen, 2013). In other words, perhaps surprisingly, our physiology may have a decisive impact on grammatical structure. Principle 2: Everything that we do is based on acts of meaning-making. If we do not make (some kind of) sense of the world around us, of the thing we commonly call “reality”, even unconsciously, we cannot function, we literally cannot live. Principle 3: The meanings that we create and live by are internal, individual and unknowable by others. We are not telepaths. We can talk about the meanings within us (i.e. use language or other semiotic systems to try to represent them), but they are entirely contained within each of us. Principle 4: As we have no way of communicating (or sharing internal meanings) directly, all attempts at communication (or “sharing meanings”) are mediated by semiotic or symbolic systems (language, gestures, drawings etc.) which we use in order to “communicate”. These attempts at communicating are constructed on the basis of our internal logical and representational systems, i.e. how we organise knowledge and the world for ourselves and how we represent knowledge and the world to ourselves. Principle 5: Logical and representational systems are constructed through our interactions with our environment by our attempts to understand the world (including “reality”, people’s actions, ideas etc.) in multiple ways which help to verify (triangulate) our understandings. Logical and representational systems necessarily contain our operational histories (world knowledge, strategies and much more, some of which may be potentially undefinable or undescribable). It is our operational histories which enable us to make sense of the world. Because these histories are different for each of us, they make each of us understand the same

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phenomenon differently, otherwise we would all understand the same “thing” in the same way and there would never be any misunderstandings. Clearly, this is not happening. The same is true of abstract thoughts and language-based meaning. These histories necessarily also hold our entire personal knowledge and understandings and the things that we have learned: the sum total of our experience. These understandings both enable us to function by helping organise/categorise the world and, at the same time, limit us to what is contained in the categories we create. They tell us what is relevant and what is not. Most of all, from a learning perspective, they account for the countless variables which distinguish us from one another and make each of us truly unique and, in a learning perspective, experience specific learning needs. Furthermore, a principle of economy (of effort, perhaps) seems to operate (Gopnik, Griffiths & Lucas, 2015; A.-P. Lian, 2000) whereby the more one uses existing categories or understandings the more they become entrenched and the possibility of changing them is weakened. In other words, we reinforce the inclusion of what we know and we strengthen the exclusion of what we do not know. The result is that we are aware of the “things” that are meaningful to us right now and unaware of, or oblivious to, “things” which are not meaningful to us right now. Once that happens, and we want to learn something new, we need to engage in a process of making the meaningless meaningful (A.-P. Lian, 2000, p. 52), of making us aware of what we are unaware of (because it is currently meaningless) and to realise and accept that what we do know often blocks access to what we want to know, e.g. acquiring good pronunciation is blocked by our perceptual systems which reject the new sounds that we are trying to learn. The same is true of other aspects of “knowledge”. So the big question is: How can we best bypass the learner’s operational history (which is resistant to change) in order to overcome its built-in barriers and actually change the learner’s history itself? From the preceding analysis it seems that the only way to do so is to act on the input that students receive and process. This can be as simple as having a conversation (where multiple representations of thoughts lead to a multiplicity of interpretations and ultimately, and hopefully, a more refined understanding of what people are trying to say, as in our first three examples). Conversation is one of the ways of understanding things differently, from many points of view. But we have been doing this for

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thousands of years, and while it does work with some, it does not work with all (or at least many). It is less successful than we would like it to be.

Awareness-raising and Input-manipulation The conclusions reached above also lead us to another conclusion: if something is not in our operational history in some relevant way, then it is excluded. If it is excluded, then we are not aware of it. In this perspective, awareness-raising (a concept similar to that of noticing) becomes an important part of learning (e.g. A.-P. Lian, 1987; Schmidt, 2012). At least three questions result from the above reasoning: 1. How can we raise awareness to what needs to be learned? 2. How can we bypass operational histories to raise awareness (given that operational histories block us)? 3. How can we do this optimally in order to secure the best results in the most efficient and effective ways for the largest number of people? On the basis of the above, then at least part of the job of teaching (anything) is to find ways of manipulating the “input” or “discourse(s)” (including ways of thinking) to which students are exposed, so as to elicit the kinds of outcomes sought by the job they are trying to perform (whether it be the pronunciation of a sound or the learning of a grammar rule or the adoption of a specific cultural behavior). And, of course, especially in terms of our expanding population of proletarian autodidacts, it would be most valuable to have systems which are essentially autonomous in nature and which will enable ordinary users working on their own to achieve their objectives. An interesting avenue worth exploring is direct action on neuroplasticity, the potential to mould the brain to work in new ways, if we can bypass our past through novel pathways which are not trapped by the filter of our operational histories. One potentially important and relatively unexploited way of doing so is to establish new neural pathways through right brain stimulation. We live in a very left-brained world: the academic training mentioned above is an example of this. It acts primarily on logical and rule-based systems that are typical of left-brain dominant activity. It seems to be what today’s world values, develops and rewards, especially the

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academic world4. In doing this, we reduce the potential of the right brain to make important contributions. Further, by accessing phenomena differently (not only right-brain stimulation), perhaps multimodally rather than unimodally, thus acting simultaneously on a multiplicity of neural pathways, we will circumvent or maybe overcome, at least partially, our automatic processing mechanisms and give our brains a chance to construct or modify personal knowledge more effectively. Metaphorically, we will be punching a hole through the filter of our history and allowing new signals to go through, instead of being rejected. By exploiting, where possible, multi-sensory, conceptually interdisciplinary information, we will provide multiple connections to support rich new knowledge construction.

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According to McGilchrist (2009, p. 399): We could expect, for a start, that there would be a loss of the broader picture, and a substitution of a more narrowly focussed, restricted, but detailed, view of the world, making it perhaps difficult to maintain a coherent overview. The broader picture would in any case be disregarded, because it would lack the appearance of clarity and certainty which the left hemisphere craves. In general, the “bits” of anything, the parts into which it could be disassembled, would come to seem more important, more likely to lead to knowledge and understanding, than the whole, which would come to be seen as no more than the sum of the parts. Ever more narrowly focussed attention would lead to an increasing specialisation and technicalising of knowledge. This in turn would promote the substitution of information, and information gathering, for knowledge, which comes through experience. Knowledge, in its turn, would seem more “real” than what one might call wisdom, which would seem too nebulous, something never to be grasped. One would expect the left hemisphere to keep doing refining experiments on detail, at which it is exceedingly proficient, but to be correspondingly blind to what is not clear or certain, or cannot be brought into focus right in the middle of the visual field. In fact, one would expect a sort of dismissive attitude to anything outside of its limited focus, because the right hemisphere's take on the whole picture would simply not be available to it.

Readers will recognize that this is very much the academic model at all levels of the educational system, from pre-school to university to scientific research.

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To achieve this, we need more than the traditional, disciplinary approaches to teaching and learning, especially where these approaches reify knowledge and transform it into an object to be acquired/ transferred/implanted into our brains – as in traditional academic education. It will be necessary to reach out to interdisciplinarity in a serious way. Here are some illustrative examples of possible actions consistent with the above. ƒ We can try to increase the size of short-term memory to enhance listening comprehension by manipulating theta wave cerebral stimulation to act on the brain (Vosskuhl, Huster & Herrmann, 2015). ƒ Or we can optimise learners’ perceptions by exploiting phase oscillations in their brains to provide more attentional space for processing incoming signals (Bas, Bas, Schurmann, & Karakas, 2000; Rimmele, Sussman & Poeppel, 2014). ƒ Or we can take advantage of the fact that speech perception is timelocked to the speech envelope, to acoustic markers of syllable onsets, and to pitch periodicity. We can also make use of the fact that the speech envelope is right-lateralised. In other words, we actually use the right brain to understand language (Hertrich, Dietrich, Trouvain, Moos & Ackermann, 2012). ƒ Or we can develop our understandings of the relationship between eye fixations and awareness to improve language learning (Godfroid & Schmidtke, 2013). ƒ Or we can ask how Bourdieu’s concept of habitus (Bourdieu, 1990) relates to the concept of phonological filter as proposed by Trubetzkoy (1969) and how can that be used. ƒ Or we can capitalise on evidence that the critical age hypothesis is likely to be false provided students learn differently (Friederici, Steinhauer & Pfeifer, 2002) as opposed to assuming that languagelearning after a certain age is doomed to failure. As can be seen, much interesting and valuable research has already been done, but it is not normally integrated into the traditional approaches to language learning which find themselves constrained by the limitations of the field itself. All of the research directions mentioned above, including those that are neurologically-based, are compatible with, in fact require, the notion of individualised learning and enhanced learning autonomy, thus leading to the next logical step: the development of Self-Adjusting

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Learning Environments (e.g. A.-P. Lian & Pineda, 2014) or Self Organising Learning Environments (SOLEs) (Mitra & Dangwal, 2010) — or the Sudbury Valley system, which is not contradictory in spirit to both of these paradigms.

The Project Itself Keeping the above reasoning and examples in mind, the following recently-completed doctoral research was carried out under the author’s supervision. The project was conducted in 2014 by Associate Professor Dr. He Bi5 of Xinyi Normal University for Nationalities, China. It concerned the teaching of English pronunciation to Chinese learners of English and compared the outcomes of the standard traditional articulatory approach with a new approach combining a theory of perception (verbotonalism), gesture/body movements, rhizomatically-based autonomous learning and computer-based assistance. Verbotonalism (Guberina & Asp, 1981; Guberina, 1972; A.-P. Lian, 1980; Renard, 1975) is a perception-based theory which seeks to improve the pronunciation of foreign language learners by helping them to reorganise their perceptual mechanisms (it is also designed to assist the production of spoken language by persons who are deaf or hard of hearing). As part of its principles, it considers hearing essentially as an act of meaning-making (making sense of the incoming auditory signals in new ways – overriding the learners’ operational history’s tendency to reject them). It also asserts the precellence of suprasegmentals (intonation, stress, rhythm) over segmentals (individual sounds), claims to optimise perception through many techniques, including digital filtering, and argues for close synchronisation between speech production and body movements (Asp, Kline, & Koike, 2011; Bobillier-Chaumont, 1999). In this context, correct pronunciation is less of an articulation problem than a perceptual problem. Additional evidence for the value of connecting the study of pronunciation to body movement comes, compellingly, from long-standing but largelyignored studies in the area of synchrony, both self-synchrony and interactional synchrony (Condon & Ogston, 1971; Condon & Sanders,



5 I am grateful to Associate Professor He Bi for giving me permission to partially describe and quote some of the results of her study.

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1974), which show close connections between language production and body movement. Further, given that different learners will understand differently, have different needs and different ways of addressing these needs, a rhizomatic model of autonomous language-learning was adopted which places ultimate responsibility for learning in the hands of the learners and the personal learning environments that they create for themselves. There are no pre-determined paths through resources and help systems. Computer assistance can play a significant role in supporting rhizomatic activity by providing both focused assistance and connections with other people (A.P. Lian & Pineda, 2014; A.-P. Lian, 2004, 2011). In keeping with the descriptions given above, the students engaged in activities whose details can be found in He and Sangarun (2015) as well as in future publications. However, the key elements of their activities are listed below. In-class activities (a) Engaging in physical relaxation and mind-calming activities to break the native-speaker connection between body movement and articulation of language so as to assist, in the next phase of the procedure, in establishing synchrony between the articulation of English and body movements. Correct articulation of English will be less likely to be neutralised or countered by potentially antagonistic “Chinese” body movements (A.-P. Lian, 1980). (b) Awareness-raising exercises based on intensive listening to filtered intonation patterns. (Natural language is electronically filtered through a low-pass digital filter set at 320Hz. This cuts out all frequencies above 320 Hz and leaves behind the melody of the language – it sounds like a hum but has highly restricted frequency bands.) Filtering removes the words in the sentence but leaves the melody behind, thus making it more salient and more easily accessible while relieving the brain of the load of having to process both intonation and words. It is a form of load-lightening. Significantly, however, the use of low frequencies in this way develops awareness of intonation in a new way by acting directly on the right brain (Hertrich et al., 2012; Hesling, Dilharreguy, Clément, Bordessoules & Allard, 2005), thus impacting on a neurological area which is often ignored. In addition, however, the body is particularly sensitive to low frequencies and therefore the

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body as a whole acts as an additional receptor of low-frequency signals, thus maximising the sources of input/internalisation of language signals to increase awareness. Taken together, these features suggest that the language-processing history of learners has a good chance of being bypassed in some significant way by this process as learners are dealing with an unusual manifestation of language with no ready-made, established, habits (i.e. pathways) to filter the signals in the normal way and structure their perceptions accordingly. After a significant amount of intensive listening to patterns, students are then provided with the original unfiltered versions so as to enable them to connect words and melodies as per normal and restore normal right-brain left-brain connectivity and processing. Finally, as suprasegmentals carry meaning potentials, students are encouraged to guess the kind of intonation they are listening to: is this a statement, or a question or an exclamation? (c) Clapping, moving or dancing to the melody and rhythm of the language (first with filtered sentences and then with the original, unfiltered, sentences). Students were not obliged to follow any particular rhythmic representation of the language but were encouraged to improvise their own movement patterns so as to construct and display their own personal understandings of the patterns rather than being obliged to conform to a specific model imposed by a teacher. This is in conformity with the notion that people make sense of things in personally relevant ways. They were also encouraged to volunteer to demonstrate their understandings of melodic and rhythmic patterns to other members of the class so as to be able to contrast, confront and contest (A.-P. Lian, 2000, p. 53) their understandings with those of others (a meaning-construction exercise). The above procedures in and of themselves act as awareness-raising stimuli coming in simultaneously from many different directions. Taken together, though, they gain strength. In particular, the last exercise is an important awareness-raiser in that it connects optimised language signals and articulation with body movements to create new self-synchrony habits previously absent in learners. Although the procedure was applied in the context of a regular class, students were actually free to modify the order of events (after the initial relaxation and listening phases, in the spirit of the rhizomatic model of

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operation adopted here). They could choose to listen to other materials that they found or re-listen to recordings they thought interesting. Alternatively, they could use recording tools like Audacity (Ash, Crook, Dannenberg et al., 2015), which is free, to record their own voices and listen to them (they were particularly intrigued as to how their voices would sound when filtered). They then often compared their filtered voices with the filtered models – in a way reminiscent of traditional language laboratory exercises, though more interestingly in that they could listen to themselves differently and therefore assess themselves differently and perhaps more accurately. They were also free to investigate materials which were not part of the lesson. Rhizomatic autonomy was therefore the order of the day even in the context of a formal class in the Chinese system.

Out-of-class Activities The out-of-class activities consisted basically of a continuation of the inclass activities, a form of reinforcement, except that students were also able to access a simple computer-based system to enable them to review the work that they had done previously, to investigate new materials or to construct their own lessons according to their inclinations and personal preferences. They also continued to have access to audio editors to enable them to act more independently by recording and filtering themselves or filtering any other recording of their choice. Of course, they were able to have much more say as to the place and timing of their study (and they took full advantage of this, studying at all kinds of times and in all kinds places such as “by the fishpond”, “in the gym between workouts” or even “in the shower” (He & Sangarun, 2015, p. 7)). From a research methodology perspective, the project consisted of a fairly classical mixed-methods quasi-experimental study (experimental group vs. control group — intact classes) with high validity/reliability coefficients on all pre- and post-tests, high inter and intra-rater reliability, tight controls for time on task, double-blind ratings by expert and non-expert raters and an unbelieving teacher who taught both groups. The experiment also had a qualitative dimension designed primarily to assess the autonomous component of the study. The experimental and the control groups were taught by the same teacher (not the researcher). Importantly, in the pre-test, the control group was significantly ahead of the experimental group on all measures used (phoneme production, reading aloud, free conversation etc.).

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Results The experimental group caught up with and actually outperformed the control group on all measures (generally p < 0.0001) despite the fact that it was statistically significantly behind the control group in the pre-test (and teachers also intuitively agreed with this rating). Students in the experimental group produced better sounding language and were more comprehensible and more fluent than students in the control group. Students also significantly increased in autonomy. The experiment was therefore clearly a success despite all the reasons for thinking that it might not be, thus pointing to the well-foundedness of the principles which generated it. However, and perhaps more importantly, the experiment was also accompanied by some surprising, unpredicted, and unpredictable results. (a) The experimental group received absolutely no training in the production of individual sounds (phonemes). Yet, it caught up and overtook the control group, which had actually received a great deal of training in phoneme production. This result is both counterintuitive and quite remarkable (and actually very important). (b) The experimental group also overtook and outperformed the control group in terms of comprehensibility and fluency. This indicates that students improved in grammatical ability and lexical richness (Trofimovich & Isaacs, 2012), not just pronunciation, beyond expected baseline levels as set by the control group. How could this happen? (c) At the end of the study, the experimental group was particularly effective and significantly stronger than the control group in unprepared, face-to-face oral interviews in terms of comprehensibility and fluency. This performance indicates students’ better ability, in natural settings, to retrieve language from within themselves and to encode it effectively, a kind of portable, intuitive knowledge, rather than consciously-monitored, knowledge derived through memorisation. To summarise, in addition to the puzzling improvement in phonemeproduction, how could a “pronunciation-improvement” system have an impact on grammar, vocabulary richness, speed of retrieval and encoding, resulting in clearer, more acceptable speech?

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While much confirmatory research remains to be done, it seems that the heavy emphasis on the constant symbiotic interplay between awarenessraising exercises operating at many different levels (load-lightening, right brain, left brain, facilitated connectivity between right and left brains, synchronisation with the body and its kinesic memory system together with a rhizomatic autonomous focus on learners and THEIR representational systems rather than lock-stepped syllabus-prescribed activities) resulted not only in the sought-after objectives being achieved, but also generated welcome additional outcomes, thus indicating that much more was achieved than sounding better: there also was an additional and simultaneous effect on grammar and vocabulary as well as on language processing efficiency and effectiveness. In other words, one set of coherently-constructed activities operated on many systems at once. When further confirmed, this study could have far-reaching effects on educational policy, the teaching of pronunciation, comprehensibility and fluency development and how we teach how to teach pronunciation. Clearly, the principles described earlier in this chapter have borne fruit.

Consequences Following the intellectual agenda is not without risk, but the stakes are high. Doing so makes us venture into the uncertainties of the future rather than seeking the comfort of the past. There is little doubt that the above was a high-risk experiment, especially in the context of a doctoral research project. The risk came primarily from the fact that most of the thinking used and the processes developed were either counter-intuitive or, in some sense, “outlandish” by virtue of their unusual nature (listening to strange sounds, engaging in physical relaxation exercises, dancing to the rhythm of the language, avoiding the study of individual sounds, deciding what, when, where, how and with whom to study). And the risk paid off – and it was worth taking as the results have the potential for multiple impacts ranging from perception theory, to neurology, to pedagogy, to educational policy and perhaps beyond. In fact, while seemingly quite risky, the nature of the risk accepted (in contradiction with the discouraging opinions of initial detractors) was probably smaller than might be imagined, as it was based on coherent and, where possible, evidence-based, theoretical reasoning drawing on a multiplicity of sources so as to predict probable outcomes with some confidence and thus reduce the risk of failure to a minimum. Importantly though, thinking was not confined to the traditional field of TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) or English language teaching in general.

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This risk-taking effort also has one more telling outcome, perhaps its most important one: it has cleared the way for others to follow in this kind of research without fear. Essentially, it has brought the outlier closer to the mainstream and given hope for new and welcome change to our thinking processes and to all learners, formal or informal. It provided an intellectual solution, not a technical one, and that solution found its roots in numerous interconnected disciplinary areas.

Conclusion The 21st century presents itself as a moment of great opportunity for humanity to satisfy its curiosity, its learning needs, even its entertainment (education can be entertaining) – all of which are connected to a natural human propensity for freedom. This opportunity is driven primarily by the exponential growth of technology, which has made its way into the hands of ordinary people, resulting in democratisation of access to information and a flattening of social and academic structures. Such access, while not yet universal and still unevenly distributed, has been taken up enthusiastically by society in general, which is turning itself into a massive do-it-yourself problem-solving community with a clear and constant interest in informal learning and a sporadic interest in formal education. The combination of information glut, self-driven autonomy and sophisticated (but still insufficient) tools presents a great opportunity for humanity to both satisfy its natural curiosity and its desire for freedom. At the same time, it lays down a challenge for educators to support and nurture this enthusiasm in ways which will move humanity forward in constructive ways rather than condemning it to repeat the mistakes of the past or perpetuating the common-sense educational stereotypes which abound in the minds of the general public (e.g. everybody knows how to teach languages – just ask my neighbour in the aeroplane). Such support and nurturing, if it is to be successful and bring about real change, requires intellectual renewal and the courage to seek out such renewal. It is hoped that the arguments and other evidence brought out in this chapter will encourage researchers to step out in support of education in general and autodidacts specifically. The 21st century offers the best opportunity yet for the ever-strengthening proletarian autodidacts, seekers of freedom and independence that lurk deep inside many, if not all, of us, to achieve their objectives in personally satisfying and educationally effective ways. This opportunity should not be wasted.

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A DIALOGIC, EVIDENCE-BASED FRAMEWORK FOR INTEGRATING TECHNOLOGY INTO SCHOOL CURRICULA ANIA LIAN AND AMY NORMAN CHARLES DARWIN UNIVERSITY, AUSTRALIA

Abstract The General Capabilities in the Australian Curriculum (ACARA, 2014c) echo the 21st-century learning skills and attributes which embody some of the key challenges of modern pedagogies. Briefly, next to the Cross-curriculum Priorities (ACARA, 2014b), the General Capabilities statements are the key building blocks of the curriculum and refer to student wellbeing, emotional growth, critical and creative thinking, and social, ethical and intercultural development. This chapter reviews contrasting perspectives on the links which the literature constructs between digital technology and learning, and investigates their implications for the teaching of the General Capabilities. This examination results in the formulation of a “dialogic framework” for integrating technology into educational contexts, with a focus on early childhood and primary education. The framework builds its evidence base by drawing on a range of disciplines, thus ensuring relevant cross-checking. Some of the disciplines include corrective phonetics, semiotics and genre studies, neuroscience, psychology and philosophy of inquiry. The result is a comprehensive mapping of the concept of learning in relation to each of the Capabilities. Implications for the use of ICT and the design of learning activities which link with the Crosscurriculum Priorities are illustrated.

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Introduction Despite the advances which have taken place over the last five decades in the philosophy of inquiry and which see knowledge construction as inherently dialogic (i.e. problem-based), strategic (i.e. forming a response to the problem) and historically embedded (i.e. engaging the stakes of the challenge) (Calhoun, 1995, p. 175), the field of education, by and large, continues to see learning as somehow special and the dialogic framework as insufficient in providing satisfactory constraints to inform educational practices and research. In line with this belief, educators have established numerous initiatives, including the “push for experimental research” (Biesta, 2007, p. 3), in order to obtain evidence about “what works”. Despite these efforts, the proponents of the “what works” approach to teaching and learning are not immune to criticism, as the measurement of effectiveness is not a simple process (Biesta, 2007, p. 4). It is not simple because the parameters which make evidence look convincing do matter, and establishing such parameters, inter alia, requires specification of the frameworks on which the evidence builds and of their limitations when cross-checked in relation to neighbouring disciplines. One limitation worth considering are the sources of interests in relation to which students’ success is being framed and the ways in which students’ own meaningmaking systems are taken into account. In other words, the role that students play in their own learning is not trivial and needs to be theorised. This chapter links the task of developing evidence-based learning environments with the requirements of the Australian Curriculum (ACARA, 2014a), while also responding to the growing investment in digital technology as a tool for supporting learning. With technology being embraced as a means for creating a new “knowledge society”, excited about its capacity to produce new forms of knowledge and new ways of being and seeing (Cope & Kalantzis, 2012, p. 83), it is clear that the conventional teaching paradigms are being challenged. The DIY (do-ityourself) culture of the World Wide Web makes it increasingly possible for learning engagements to draw on the knowledge of the broader community and to do so in a personally-relevant manner. This paper sets out to investigate the relationship between technology and learning with a view to developing a comprehensive, evidence-based framework for integrating technology into school curricula with the aim of enhancing students’ learning. It does so by examining a range of key proposals put forward by educators in this regard in order to offer direction for teaching and research.

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Methodology The General Capabilities are the key building blocks of the Australian Curriculum (ACARA, 2014a) and capture skills and dispositions linked to student wellbeing, emotional growth, critical and creative thinking, and the development of social, ethical and intercultural orientation (ACARA, 2014c). Together with the Cross-curriculum Priorities, the Capabilities support learning experiences which expand students’ immediate community connections in order to account for the cultural heritage of Australia, ethnic diversity and our closest neighbours. Each of the pedagogic models examined in this paper is selected with the aim to provide perspectives that are relevant to the development of the knowledge, skills, behaviours and dispositions captured in the Capabilities. Specifically, the following Capabilities are engaged: the Social and Personal Capabilities, the Capabilities of Critical and Creative Thinking, and the Capabilities of Intercultural Knowledge and Ethics. These Capabilities are chosen as they concern themselves, in particular, with the ethical aspects of learning and knowledge production. The pedagogic models are reviewed and discussed in relation to the following aspects of the learning process: (a) assumptions they make about the learner and learning, (b) the principles in which these assumptions are framed, and (c) implications for the integration of ICT into learning. The chapter concludes with a framework for integrating technology into school curricula. To this end, it builds on the discussions it generates and renders a comprehensive mapping of the concept of learning in relation to each of the Capabilities, together with implications for the use of ICT and the design of learning activities.

The Use of ICT to Support Social and Personal Capabilities The Social and Personal Capabilities concern themselves largely with engagements which support students in developing self-knowledge and the knowledge of others (ACARA, 2014c). This section examines how the integration of ICT can assist the students in these goals.

Assumptions about the learner and learning In the field of gaming in education, James Gee is known for his research on the use of games as a teaching and learning tool. In the paper “Being a

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lion and being a soldier”, Gee and Tashia Morgridge (2007) offer a critique of the principles of designing educational games and propose a direction for future developments. The paper begins with an evaluation of the Savannah game (Facer et al., 2004) where, through role playing, children are assisted to build an awareness of what it is like to be a lion. It was expected that this would assist them to develop “conceptual understanding of animal behavior and interaction with the environment” (Gee & Morgridge, 2007, p. 1031). In their paper, Gee and Morgridge (2007, p. 1035) see role playing as the key feature of well-designed educational games as it “demands that the player thinks, values, and acts like one to win the game”. In their view, through role playing, virtual games can offer spaces which enable students to generate deep understandings of the perspectives of other people and, through this, to engage in a learning where activities and goals emerge from the game, “rather than as a long list of facts outside any context of goals and action” (pp. 1034-1035). Meaningful learning will follow when the rules of the game focus on the content, i.e. the knowledge, goals, and values that come with playing a specific role (p. 1036). But what would the learning of these goals, knowledge and values actually involve? In other words, how is a game to shift beyond being an end in itself to support the students in developing stronger links between those goals and values, and their own perceptions of themselves and others? How is a game, therefore, to be engaging, empowering and lead to the construction of personally-relevant knowledge? These are important questions if, as Gee and Morgridge (2007, p. 1037) suggest, integration of games is to offer an alternative to the “content fetish” in theories of learning “in many of our schools today”. Gee and Morgridge (2007) offer no clear framework in this regard beyond asserting the value of role playing. Scaffolded mastery of the roles is proposed as a principle for designing learning experiences in games, with students progressing from simple to more complex challenges, a process which is designed to enable them to discover how the rules of the game permit them to enact those roles (Gee & Morgridge, 2007, p. 1029). Gee and Morgridge acknowledge that the idea of teaching children to take on different identities may be met with objections. However, they believe that “there is no real learning without some ideology” (p. 1036), and taking on different identities should assist children in experiencing different domains of knowledge through a certain set of values and a particular worldview which are intimately connected to those characters.

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The idea of perspective-taking as a process by which children learn finds its support in neuroscience. In their paper “We feel therefore we learn”, Damasio and Immordino-Yang (2007) link emotion with learning and explain that emotions cannot be reduced to just a feeling. They point to newly discovered connections between emotional, cognitive, and social functioning which evolved as an integrated system to cope with the management of life (pp. 3, 7). These connections support a form of learning which Immordino-Yang (2009, p. 5) describes as both social and subjective, i.e. involving children in “internalizing [their] subjective interpretations of other people’s beliefs, goals, feelings and actions, and vicariously experiencing these as if they were [their] own”. In other words, children do not observe reality directly. They impute goals to other persons’ actions based on their own experience within that or similar contexts (Immordino-Yang, 2009, p. 12). This makes learning resemble an internal dialogue that children generate about the world around them based on their earlier experiences. It also shows that in order to support the students in developing self-knowledge and the knowledge of others, it is not the playing of a specific role that is the end goal. Rather of concern are the interpretations in relation to which students construct these roles and therefore themselves in the context of the game and beyond. This suggests that the quality of students’ learning, and the perceptions they will form of themselves and of others as a result, will depend on the extent to which their interpretations are engaged by the learning environment (Immordino-Yang, 2009, pp. 12-13). These findings also suggest that scaffolding, as an umbrella term, is insufficient to offer a principled basis to account for students’ subjective interpretations and therefore to support their informed and critical engagement. In the context of scaffolded activities which are teacher(expert)-led, the most that teachers can do is to impute goals to students’ actions based on their own personal histories, which are not the same as those of their students.

Principles of Learning The understandings proposed by Gee and Morgridge (2007) can be summarised in the following principles: (a) All learning draws on some ideology connected to practice or a domain of knowledge.

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(b) Learning should concern itself primarily with activities supporting experiences, not content. Roles are activities oriented to “produce and use knowledge” (p. 1037). Experiences, on the other hand, inculcate students into “special ways of seeing, valuing, and being in the world” relative to the roles they play” (p. 1037). (c) “Taking perspectives” involves children in learning as a way of “being in the world”, rather than “doing content” (p. 1037). (d) The designer of the game is in command of the criteria, or progression scales, in relation to which students’ learning is structured and scaffolded.

Implications for Integration of ICT: Discussion Gee and Morgridge (2007, pp. 1028-30) identify the advantages of good games as follows: (a) they offer players strong identities; (b) they make players think like the person they personify; (c) they reduce the consequences of failure; (d) they allow players to customize the game to fit their learning and playing styles; (e) they offer players the feeling of a real sense of agency, ownership, and control; (f) they offer players a set of challenging problems and let them practise these problems until they have routinised their mastery; (g) they stay within, but at the outer edge of, the players’ “regime of competence”; (h) they encourage players to think about relationships; (i) they encourage players to explore thoroughly before moving on; and (j) they operate by a principle of performance before competence. However, in view of the discussion above, these features describe a vision, while the conceptual framework for their integration into the game context in order to generate personally-relevant, empowering and informed learning is missing. Such a conceptual framework is also missing in the original paper reporting on the Savannah project (Facer, Joiner, Stanton, Reid, Hull, & Kirk, 2004), with the authors making reference to the technical tools only. Yet, the principles are critical if, as the Savannah research team and Gee and Morgridge (2007, p. 1039), acknowledge, game-like learning is to be “about a whole learning and social system built around the game”. In the field of technology-enhanced language learning, Andrew Lian draws on the fields of semiotics and corrective phonetics, which allowed him to question the idea that perception is direct and that technology can merely be used as a tool for simulating real-life events (Lian, 2004, 2011). Briefly, research in these fields shows that people do not perceive the

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world directly (“The difference which establishes phonemes and lets them be heard remains in and of itself inaudible, in every sense of the word”, Derrida, 1982, p. 5), sounds are not heard but interpreted in relation to the meaning potential they are attributed to by the listener (Guberina, 1972; Lian, 1980; Lotto, 2014) (the same applies to other senses, e.g. vision, Purves, Wojtach & Lotto, 2011), and the process of interpretation (meaning-making) revolves around the ability to reject that which does not matter (“any given local context … is understandable as significant only as a factor of the other possible contextual mediations that it excludes”, Chambers, 1996, p. 147). Following on from these points, ambiguity (conflict) is experienced when students’ expectations or judgments compete for “truth”, i.e., when students experience signals as equally meaningful, which prevents them from differentiating between the important and unimportant elements (Lian & Lian, 1997). According to Lian (1980, 2004) and Lian and Lian (1997), the reduction of ambiguity can be assisted through load reduction facilities, i.e. the inclusion of tools which allow students to reduce the interference of competing information-processing demands, which generate interfering conflicts in perception, attention, thinking, and memory system (Grachev, Kumar, Ramachandran & Szeverenyi, 2001), thus making less attentional space available for recognising and processing the ambiguity and which orient the students to always choosing the familiar, already-tested and entrenched processing pathways. The interactions which arise with the help of such tools, through the new compare-and-contrast activities which they make possible, enable students to approach the understandings in which they frame the demands of the particular task that they are grappling with in an unaccustomed manner. Now the students are no longer dealing with a single familiar task. The load-reduction tools allow the students to break down the task into a range of tasks or problems and explore the relevance of the new understandings they develop in relation to the initial problem which generated the exploratory process in the first place (Lian, 2004). In Lian’s model, therefore, feedback is conceptualised as the “from moment to moment” interpretations which students construct in the context of such exploratory activities and in response to the problem at hand. This definition of feedback takes a student-centred perspective on feedback as it seeks to account for the students’ subjective experiences and interpretations. This is achieved, at least in part, by offering a set of signals which have a reduced chance of being blurred by students’ understandings of the world while seeking to direct students toward the production of

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correct models. The point of load-lightening can be thought of as a way of increasing the attentional space so that students are able to perceive things that they missed before as they gain more time and space to deal with them, i.e., see signals that were not visible because they were blocked by their operational histories, which include their processing habits, or see them differently. It does not mean that the students now see phenomena “as they are”, but that they see them differently from the past (which also includes not seeing them). However, a more traditional concept of feedback is prominent in the literature. For example, in Hattie and Timperley (2007), feedback is defined as information provided by someone to the student or accessed by the student (p. 81) and “it occurs typically after instruction that seeks to provide knowledge and skills or to develop particular attitudes” (p. 101). Hattie and Timperley do not specify any intellectual framework which would support this definition, including the concept of information. It is therefore unclear why it was chosen, what impact is expected that feedback should have on the students and what would make it relevant to them. As pointed out by Dede (2007, p. 35; 2012), when playing a game, the players expect feedback instantly (just in time), otherwise the game would stop. The comparison helps make the point that in the context of a game, it is the players who construct the content (the way in which the game unravels). They construct meaning out of the various cues (signals) they judge to be relevant to plan ahead. A game makes room for many solutions and what the players see as feedback depends on how they read the game. This openness and exploration are missing in classrooms where there is only one way to play the game. In such classrooms, students are expected to re-create the game which plays itself out in the head of their teacher. In such contexts, feedback is a means to monitor and to regulate the accuracy of students’ performance according to what the teacher knows and sees, not necessarily the students. This is exactly the function that Hattie & Timperley (2007) attribute to feedback. They see its role as a means “to reduce discrepancies between current understandings and performance and a goal” (Hattie & Timperley, 2007, p. 88). The problem is that the understandings that teachers have of their students’ processing needs are not the same as those which inform students’ actual performance (teachers are not in students’ heads or bodies). It follows that for feedback to “speak to” to students’ meaning-making systems, student agency needs to be taken into account. This will include an explication of the role that students play in the process of formulating, acting on and understanding

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the goals they are to pursue. If these goals are owned by teachers, this is not co-construction that is taking place, but a form of didactics which denies students their own history. Regarding the use of technology, the understanding that people are different leads Lian to conclude that students are likely to have problems which “are unpredicted, [often] unpredictable, involving infinite combinations of mutually reinforcing modalities and thus potentially different from one learner to the other” (Lian, 2004, p. 6). In order to support the students, Lian develops learning environments with online resources, management tools and activities which make it possible for the students to engage their subjective interpretive systems in a personallyrelevant manner. The principles below summarise Lian’s approach to the use of technology. They illustrate a model which provides the students with access to exploratory opportunities which enable them to compare, contrast and contest the power of the different meaning-making schemes which they engage in the context of their interactions in the world. In the process, they develop increasingly powerful understandings of how they see the world and, as a result, how they construct themselves in the context of their social engagements. The focus on learning, rather than teaching, supports students in establishing understandings that are personally relevant and therefore empowering: (a) People are different: since we never perceive the world directly, it follows that the kinds of problems students experience are very likely to be different from one learner to the other (“We see more of our memory than we do of reality”, Peterson, 2011, p. 130). Therefore, it is not logically possible to offer a sequenced (or externally scaffolded) intervention strategy capable of simultaneously meeting the needs of all (or even any one student). Entry points to solving individual problems are likely to be different, and perhaps even unknown, from person to person (Lian, 2004, p. 6). (b) Students need personalised support: technology can help because technology-enhanced environments can be designed to allow students to do different things at different times in response to their different needs. To support this kind of learning, an environment should provide students with opportunities: (a) to explore what they know; (b) to identify the limits of this knowledge, and (c) to

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generate new forms of knowledge and new possibilities. This process is also captured by Peterson (2011, pp. 129-130): Our ideas, lacking one-to-one correspondence with the world they represent, instead serve primarily pragmatic purposes. … If … our goal-directed actions fail, … the world confronts us with the evidence of our insufficiency … Pragmatic failure means that there was more to the thing-in-itself than originally suspected. The unmapped portion of that thing may pose a threat, but may also offer possibility for the expansion of competence. Exploration generates the information from which new possibilities are born.

(c) Students solve their problems, not arbitrarily-designed learning tasks. The load-reduction process is managed by the students and in relation to the relationships they perceive as relevant. The understandings they develop in the course of this learning help expand the terms in relation to which they construct themselves with and within the world. To summarise, the understanding that we do not see reality directly and that, as a result, students need support which is designed around the concept of learning, not teaching, is consistent with research in neuroscience which provides growing evidence that the brain processes information in an integrated fashion, by constructing what it thinks is there, not mapping what actually is. For example, Damasio (2014) confirms that the brain does not perceive reality directly. Instead, he explains, the brain integrates the “images” it creates of sounds, sight, touch, of our own body, and so on, following quite a complicated process of connections which involve manipulation of images or patterns that the brain creates from the sensory data. Once interpreted or processed, these interpretations are then sent back to the origins of those connections (e.g. the visual or auditory systems) to be then perceived by a human as having heard or seen something. In other words, Damasio shows that people perceive hearing or seeing things only after they have already processed information against the multiplicity of multisensory connections. This description illustrates that perception involves an element of problemsolving and that it is an act of personal meaning-making; it is a (re)construction (Hassabis & Maguire, 2009, p. 1266), not a “reaction”.

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The Use of ICT to Support Ethical and Intercultural Capabilities The Ethical and Intercultural Capabilities concern themselves largely with the concept of diversity and the vision of the community that learning engagements inculcate in the students through the materials they use and the communities they engage. This section examines how integration of ICT can support students in developing the skills and knowledge relevant to these Capabilities.

Assumptions about the Learner and Learning In the field of cultural learning, Shalini Watson’s (2013) paper on the use of technology in Indigenous contexts reviews the literature which investigates the link between the design of technology-based environments and the cultural traits of the students (p. 61). The review shows that the literature suggests that there are differences in the ways in which Australian Aboriginal children and adults, especially those living in remote areas, process and identify relevant information. This leads Watson to conclude that adjustments for these cultural and cognitive differences must be made in the ways in which learning materials are presented to the Indigenous students and in the context of testing. She also believes that this need for cultural adjustment may not apply to students who have been exposed to mainstream education from an early age, as “[u]ndoubtedly, early socialisation of Indigenous students into this new [mainstream] paradigm provides them with the skills required to operate successfully in that paradigm, as it becomes a part of their learning schemata” (p. 61). On the basis of the research reviewed in her study, Watson (2013) argues that a mismatch in the cultural construction of learning produces an internal conflict for the student. Furthermore, while she acknowledges that there is “little evidence for a single Indigenous learning style” (p. 60), her discussion on the learning characteristics of Indigenous children includes the following patterns, “observational learning preferred over verbal; experiential learning over listening; learning settings that are contextually meaningful; discouragement of questioning behaviours; valuing of the teacher over the information; ways of doing things perpetuated; group solidarity promoted over individual superiority; acquisition of knowledge directly from the expert in an apprentice-novice system; and fusion of emotional and intellectual domains” (p. 60). Furthermore, Indigenous children from remote areas show “significantly greater” visual–spatial

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memory than Anglo-Australian children (p. 61). There is also prevalence among Indigenous children of hearing impairments and higher record of emotional difficulties, with high risk of clinically significant emotional or behavioural difficulties (p. 61). Watson (2013, p. 61) points also to the discrepancies in opportunities and resources available to Indigenous children from urban and remote contexts, with children from rural and remote areas having less access to home computers, having inexperienced teachers, and schools having difficulties in locating staff to teach in critical learning areas such as English as a Second Language, mathematics and science. Watson’s argument is that if Indigenous children are expected to perform equally well on tests as their urban counterparts, these differences need to be addressed in assessment design and learning. She calls for strategies which provide students with more holistic learning experiences and with content relevant to Indigenous children (p. 60) and which are supported by technologies which encourage an interplay between the cognitive, social, emotional and physical learning aspects (p. 62). These considerations are very important as they identify discrepancies between well-resourced and under-resourced communities as well as point to the need for teaching practices which are linguistically and culturallysensitive, and which integrate local cultural knowledge. However, a claim that concepts like ethnicity or mainstream can be linked to very specific modes of knowledge transmission is problematic as it presents culture as a monolithic construct and cultural practices as inherently just.

Principles of Learning The principles in which Watson (2013) frames learning as a cultural experience can be summarised as follows: 1. Culture mediates how societies construct and measure learning. 2. Culture is also the lens through which learning occurs and interacts with respect to perception, language, thought and memory.

Implications for Integration of ICT: Discussion The abovementioned principles lead Watson (2013) to propose that learning environments need to make appropriate (research-informed) adjustments for the cultural and cognitive differences of their students, supported by technologies which encourage an interplay between the

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cognitive, social, emotional and physical learning aspects. To this end and in regard to technology, some of the strategies which Watson suggests include matching the teaching formats with a particular culture, eclecticism, mobility, multimedia, multimodal representation of information, access to culturally-relevant materials, and collaborative tools and tasks. The general aim of these strategies is to offer sufficient interactivity for Indigenous students to work in a creative and culturallyrelevant manner. Still, despite these suggestions, Watson offers no framework which would link the concept of culture to learning and which, therefore, would be able to orient research. On the other hand, Bill Cope and Mary Kalantzis have very clear ideas how this support is to be conceptualised and implemented with the help of technology. In a paper on the pedagogy of multiliteracies (Kalantzis & Cope, 2010), they frame learning as an act of meaning-making and, as such, an act of cultural production and reproduction, “The learner is a maker of meaning, a designer who works with available semantic resources, but who is nevertheless forever redesigning the world of meaning” (p. 210). They too argue for culturally-sensitive environments: “In fact, not dealing with difference means exclusion of those who do not fit the norm” (p. 210). Therefore, the aim of “pedagogy of multiliteracies” is to facilitate a “participatory approach to learning” and, in so doing, to “open ... the curriculum to diversity” (p. 215). The “pedagogy of multiliteracies” constructs diversity as communities and takes the texts of these communities, in all their multimodal forms, as the object of analysis. The assumption is that by understanding how different communities construct their texts, students can gain an understanding of the meaning-making systems of those communities. An analysis of the content should reveal the rules of the process of meaning-making in those communities which can then be taught. Along these lines, the ability to operate in a diverse world is understood as the capacity to “traverse between communities and [t]heir meaning-making resources [which] may be found in representational objects, patterned in familiar and thus recognizable ways” (Cope & Kalantzis, 2009, p. 175). In order to facilitate this process of “traversing”, the resources of the communities become the content of the students’ learning, while the manner (the rules) for working with this content is to be extrapolated through questions which are to assist students in exploring “the relation of meaning form to meaning function” (Cope & Kalantzis, 2009, p. 177). The “questions about meaning” include the representational, social, structural,

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intertextual and ideological “specificities of meaning-making systems” (p. 176). They are to be integrated into the context of activities to which Cope and Kalantzis (2009, p. 187) refer as “knowledge processes”. These include the process of experiencing, conceptualising, analysing and the application of knowledge and understandings to real world situations and testing their validity (p. 185). As this brief description already shows, the pedagogy of multiliteracies has strong teacher control in each of its “knowledge processes”. Notably, none of these processes teaches students explicitly how to formulate the questions which their inquiries are to address. Rather, the focus is on teaching. The model does this by advocating the strategies of scaffolding (Kalantzis & Cope, 2010, p. 209) which teachers design in relation to arbitrarily established scales of difficulty. In other words, the activities privilege teachers’ questions about the texts, thus turning the text into an object constructed by such questions. This evident lack of student agency in the pedagogy of multiliteracies transpires in a study by Mills (2006), where students’ engagement and their creative and critical capacities are controlled by the teacher’s selections of the learning activity through which the learning is to occur and of the questions in which it is framed. In the study, the task of creating a Claymation movie was selected by the teacher as an avenue for students to learn about “the cultural location of designs of meaning and social practices” (Mills, 2006, p. 7). The object of students’ learning was the community (externalised by the approach) and its meaning structures, not the student him- or herself and his or her own contexts of engagement. The transformative function of the multiliteracies pedagogy is therefore unclear as is the relevance of the teaching activities to students’ lives. The study also fails to offer a systematically derived rationale linking the choice of the activity, and its process and resources to the Australian Curriculum.  The idea that culture operates at the level of local communities and that intercultural learning is an ability to traverse between communities does have its opponents. John Swales (1993), himself once a proponent of this model, criticises it for its inability to explicitly capture “forward momentum or the pursuit of novelty: new ways of doing business, new genres, new subject matter, new product, the creation of a new research space” and thereby the concept of agency (p. 695). In other words, if meaning, or the rules of meaning-making, were owned by a specific community, this would suggest that they were formed independently from the history of the “conversations” in other communities (Miller, 1994, p.

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74). This in turn would render the learning of these rules impossible and their relevance to the lives of other communities difficult to demonstrate. In the context of a French class, Anne Freadman (2004) too questions the concept of community which mistakes easy familiarity for culture and which positions second language students as foreign in relation to practices which they experience as unfamiliar, “[This view] suggests we are either inside or outside a culture, that it is either thoroughly familiar or thoroughly foreign and that there are impermeable boundaries around cultures” (p. 9). “Were it true”, she continues, “it would be futile to teach anything, and futile in particular to teach culture” (p. 9). To illustrate her point that culture is irreducible to local contexts of practice (“there is some continuity between spaces – nothing being just English or French or yours or mine”, p. 16) and that comprehension “had nothing to do with the structure of the text and a great deal to do with the predictions a student brought to the reading task” (Freadman, 1994, p. 19), Freadman (2004) describes Colette, a French novelist exploring Paris at the turn of the 20th century. Colette explores Paris as a journalist. She makes decisions regarding what to report on and how best she can use her own sense of unfamiliarity to make her reports interesting for others. As she walks the streets of Paris, “we find her exploring the resources of her own cultural knowledge, discovering its limitations, certainly, but also discovering in it comparisons and contrasts which she can use to shed light on the problems of the encounter” (Freadman, 2004, p. 17). When challenged to make sense of an English style boxing match, she does not approach the task of meaning-making from the position of a novice, lacking in concepts and tools. Instead, she draws on what she knows in order to work with this knowledge in an increasingly powerful and personally-relevant way. She purposefully looks for tools which would best help her reveal the moods, the emotions and the patterns which together participate in her own experience of the game. Through her reflections and her journey, she does not learn about Paris. Rather, she forms perspectives through which she experiences Paris. The methodology of this process, as captured by Freadman, does not point to any meanings that needed to be found or patterns to be decoded. As Freadman (2004, p. 19) explains, “the boxing, the culte des morts, and the royal visit are not my genres, they are Colette’s”. In other words, her experiences are her own, informed by her own history and the intentions in which it is framed. It is therefore not the lack of familiarity with Paris that

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Colette is confronting, but the need to defuse her fears of her first experience with the unknown. In the context of the internal dialogue that she generates, she explores the tools of her own cultural knowledge to make sense of the life around. She draws on her experiences accumulated in different spaces and at different times, thus making the reading of the new contexts possible while also unique. Regarding culture, the example of Colette helps Freadman (2004) make the point that the object of cultural learning is not to master forms, practices or form-meaning relationships. Rather, cultural learning is about exercising cultural authority, i.e. the ability to “imagine and effect active intervention” in the situations which affect us (Freadman, 1994, p. 21). It is about the ability to “sew”, i.e. bringing together what was apart, and, most of all, learning about the ways in which learning that culture is “imperfectly owned” and “participating in a culture is not always a matter of cosy familiarity, we must often adapt to the unfamiliar, culture is a process, not a thing, and that process involves learning and sometimes getting it wrong” (Freadman, 2004, p. 20). Thus, while the Social and Personal Capabilities focus on the engagement of students’ subjective interpretations in the context of their learning, the Ethical and Intercultural Capabilities invite the students to explore their own power. They open space for opportunities for the students to learn by drawing on, assembling, organising and re-organising their experiences from a diversity of contexts, a process which is the opposite to teaching the students to be submissive in an environment where the errors that define them as students will always leave them in a position of nonmastery (vis-à-vis their teachers). In this regard, the object of students’ learning is not to frame a text through questions to reveal its meaning devices. Rather, it is to engage in a process which enables students to better understand (to contextualise) their beliefs regarding the intentions which inform the construction of texts. They do so by seeking and engaging perspectives which are able to reveal to them the opportunities and the limitations of these beliefs, i.e., to paraphrase Freadman, discovering the limitations of those beliefs, but also discovering in them comparisons and contrasts which they can use to shed light on the questions they encounter. It is an exploratory process, open to perspectives and experiences that students discover. There is no closure, as there is no one way to look at texts and the qualities we attribute to them. Technology can assist such exploratory reflections. Information-rich databases, collaborative opportunities and imaginative tools can be

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designed and integrated into a learning environment to engage students’ multisensory interpretive systems in order to support the search and crosslinking of information in their potentially infinite combinations. The dialogic process, which will ensue as a result, will create opportunities for new beliefs to emerge while prior understandings will be transformed and impacted on in new and personally-relevant ways. Developing such exploratory and collaborative environments is possible due to the capacity of digital technologies to (a) store multilingual information from culturally diverse contexts in a variety of formats; (b) create new, or integrate ready-made, tools enabling random access of information, its manipulation, and quick compare-and-contrast activities; and (c) link computers, thus making it possible for the students to collaborate and to add new information to the system (Lian, 2014). The databases can be created and organised in ways that facilitate meaningful and flexible retrieval of information by the students and the integration of this information into “on-demand” activities which can be called for (and co-designed) by the students in response to their personal needs and demands (Lian, 2011, 2014). Regarding collaboration, examples of such tools include class or school websites, with students from different classes and groups displaying their work and interests which can be read, discussed or even followed up through class projects. Students can also create community websites which promote community cohesion and, in this way, support the link between the schools and the broader community. Also, the format of the PechaKucha show and tell presentations can be utilised by schools with students displaying online PowerPoint presentations on issues of their interest which they can then share with peers from different schools or even countries.

The Use of Technology to Support the Capabilities of Critical and Creative Thinking The Capabilities of Critical and Creative Thinking challenge educators to develop processes which help students evaluate the sources, the scope and the different forms of knowledge which give relevance to their actions and thinking.

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Assumptions about the Learner and Learning Mitra’s “Hole-In-The-Wall” experiments are the best known examples of “Minimally Invasive Education” (Mitra & Dangwal 2010). Briefly, the experiments examined what would happen when children in a remote village in one of the poorest areas of India were given a computer which was inserted into a wall in the middle of the town. Children were encouraged to access the computer and do whatever they wished with the help of the applications which were made available to them. The results of these experiments show that when given unsupervised access to a computer with internet-based instructional material, the village children were quite “capable of organising themselves into self-learning groups and, without supervision and instruction, were able to achieve the same levels as their peers in a nearby state government school but not those of similarly aged children in an affluent, urban school” (Mitra & Dangwal 2010, p. 685). These were children who had “no teachers or educational support from their parents or anyone else in the community and they lack[ed] the healthcare, nutrition, sanitation and other conditions of modern living” (Mitra & Dangwal 2010, p. 679). Mitra and Dangwal (2010) report similar and greater successes they had in other places in India and their “Minimally Invasive Education” approach is now practised in many countries all over the world. The approach is based on the understanding that children, when working together on problems of relevance to them, form, act and learn as a self-organising system (Mitra & Dangwal 2010, p. 680). When given appropriate exploratory tools and resources, children/students will and can learn in groups and build on their respective talents and imagination all on their own. In a somewhat indirect fashion, the Philadelphia Library experiment confirms this conclusion. Described by Warschauer (2012), the experiment set out to examine if there were differences in the ways in which middleclass children used library computers compared to children from low income families. Middle-class children, often accompanied by their parents, were observed to use the computers to increase their amount of library reading by accessing texts online. In contrast, students from lowincome families read less and, instead, spent time waiting for computers or playing simple games on them that involved little text (p. 134). The study concluded that introducing computers into libraries was distracting students from low-income families and thus exacerbated differences in the amount of reading in libraries between high and low income children.

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However, when compared with the “Minimally Invasive Education” experiments, the critical element is not the presence or absence of computers, but the very way in which the library integrated computers into its environment. In Mitra and Dangwal’s (2010) environments, computers are an opportunity for children to work as a group. As Mitra and Dangwal say, this put a stop to individual students relying on their own imagination and interests. Other students wanted to join in and this generated an atmosphere of team work and play. On the other hand, in the Philadelphia study, the environment was not conducive to such interactions. In a quiet space of a library, computers are more suitable for work that is guided, and children from middle-class families were in the library with a parent who supervised their work, hence the results. The “Hole-In-The-Wall” experiments show that simply reducing the amount of computers per students and by locating them in places which are more conducive to collaboration may lead to play and discovery learning.

Principles of Learning The following principles summarise the non-invasive learning approach (Mitra and Dangwal, 2010, p. 686): (a) When given appropriate exploratory resources and tools, students can be left alone to learn. Students will form themselves into groups around a single computer and will talk to each other and share information with other groups. (b) It is best for the teacher to be absent; a minimally invasive mediator may offer emotional encouragement.

Implications for the Integration of ICT: Discussion Mitra and Dangwal’s experiments have been criticised for the lack of evidence as to whether their environments result in “deep learning” (Mitra & Dangwal, 2010, p. 679). While they use regular school tests to evaluate their students’ success, as they explain, in all their experiments the computers were never empty. The researchers therefore played an active role in influencing students’ learning by supplying internet-based instructional materials, applications and, at times, some initial tutoring. Beyond the rudimentary principles of their non-invasive learning approach, Mitra and Dangwal do not offer a conceptual framework which would justify the choices of these online materials and therefore the expectations which guide their idea of student success. And yet, a

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framework is necessary to ensure that the approach, however unwittingly, does not profess one thing and does another. Furthermore, a framework would also inform research committed to support this form of pedagogy. It follows that a systematic and comprehensive process needs to be developed, one which takes account of students’ personal histories and cultural identities while also assisting the students to evaluate the sources, the scope and the different forms of knowledge which give relevance to their actions and thinking. While these objectives, captured in the General Capabilities (ACARA, 2014c), may seem superfluous to some, this is because we tend to read the products of our own cultural learning as universal and therefore unproblematic. We impute our goals to the other person’s actions based on our own experience. In this regard, a study by Austen, Soto Faraco, Enns and Kingstone (2004) showed that in a matter of seconds, scientists can make anyone believe that a rubber glove (or indeed a table, as reported in more recent experiments) is part of their own body. This and other studies of this kind suggest that our available sensory information is used flexibly and, by implication, that it is very easy to mistake outcomes of one’s own cultural learning as shared, natural and obvious to everyone else. Or, to put it in another way, that what we see, feel or experience is what actually happens. In the case of the experiment, the subjects felt the pain of a blow that never touched them. Figure 1 illustrates a process that integrates the General Capabilities (ACARA, 2014c) as a framework and presents a model in relation to which teachers can support students’ learning experiences while also accounting for their personal histories, cultural identities and creative and critical thinking. The two axes in Figure 1 illustrate the two key components of every teaching environment: the purpose of the students’ engagement (a unit of work) and its objectives (the Capabilities). The phase of “Analysis” includes questions which develop from the purpose of this engagement and which will need to be explored from the perspective of the objectives of each of the Capabilities. The questions included in Figure 1 are only an example, but they illustrate their job, which is to identify the key concerns of the inquiry. The phase of Analysis will also cater for the inclusion of the Cross-curriculum Priorities (ACARA, 2014b) as contexts of investigation. The next section shows how this model can be implemented in practice.

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A Dialogic, Evidence-Based Framework for Integrating Technology into School Curricula in Practice

Summarising findings Identifying the project & its purpose

Project design

Exploration Empowerment

Evaluation

Engagement

Implementation of the process illustrated in Figure 1 needs to address two aspects of design. One relates to student engagement and another to a process by which this engagement translates into a student project. Figure 2 identifies the different stages of this process. †‡–‹ˆ›‹‰ ‘„Œ‡…–‹˜‡• Identifying focus questions Designing collaboration

Figure 2: Stages and their objectives in a dialogic model of learning

Engagement Building on the discussion in this chapter, it follows that for learning to be meaningful, a learning environment needs to create a negotiation space for the students to explore and expand their engagements in the world and, in the process, to develop a better informed view of themselves and of the world around them. Experiences which will emerge as a result can

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generate a powerful context for building students’ self-esteem and a sense of place in the community. The aim of the activities in the Engagement stage is to stimulate students’ explorations and curiosity. In terms of ICT, the quality of these activities will depend on (a) the materials or resources that are made available to the students and (b) the tools for engaging with these resources.

Exploration The purpose of the Exploration phase is to trigger students’ interest in a specific phenomenon or issue through perspectives which make it possible for the students to assess its relevance to their own contexts. Traditional engagement activities, like predicting the text of a story by looking at the cover of a book or “brain storming”, do not provide sufficient breadth to support such personalised explorations. Furthermore, asking questions of a single book alone is not likely to invoke the wealth of social and cultural knowledge that students bring with them into the classroom environment. As a result, activities of this kind will generate limited engagement, with no opportunities for the students to relate the activity to their own lives and contexts. On the other hand, ICT-based explorations make it possible for the students to follow up their initial assumptions or ideas, contextualise their relevance with the help of compare-and-contrast activities which enable them to identify what people do, why, how, when, and who, as well as interrogate the perspectives generated by other students. Technology, when used in this way, increases the interactivity of a regular class and enriches students’ experiences. Teachers, with the support of their students, their parents and the broader school community, should be able assemble a rich pool of online resources (including print materials, documents, images, video clips of different genres, games, lessons, links to websites, blogs, discussion pages and other) relevant to students’ lives, interests and their local communities. It is essential that teachers compile and categorise their tools and resources in ways that support compare-and-contrast activities. For younger children, resources of this kind may need imaginative ways of classifying information. The questions in Figure 1 can serve as a good starting point.

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In order for these resources to reflect the diversity of the world and the classroom demographics, it is necessary to include materials produced by members of different communities and symbols used by different cultural and language groups, including their scripts. The strategy of including diverse scripts and symbols supports community integration and the community-building goals of the Australian Curriculum (ACARA, 2014a), ensures that each of the students in classroom feels included or involved (“spoken to”), expands students’ perspectives, and is consistent with recent findings in neuroscience research which report that the use of foreign scripts helps strengthen visual memory and, by implication, enhance students’ capacity to read and write (Doidge, 2007, p. 37). Students’ curiosity can be triggered in numerous ways, for example, with teachers displaying a puzzle on the SmartBoard. The puzzle can include a series of icons, each hiding a game or a sequence of activities that students can explore as a class or in groups, all linked to additional online and offline materials that students can interrogate. The icons should make use of symbols such as pictures, graphs (or pie charts), foreign scripts, imaginative forms of representations used by different cultures (e.g. Aboriginal symbols), all chosen to resonate with or to expand the culture and backgrounds of the students. Figure 3 shows an example of such a puzzle. The common thread shared by all the icons in the puzzle is the concept of friendship. Each icon can take students to different activities. The Australian Aboriginal icon representing a gathering may take students to activities where they can explore the traditions of storytelling, the patterns which make those stories belong to the same register, their sequences, cultural traits of different stories, and different forms of narration. The penguin icon can take students to activities which show the interesting things that children do all over the world and which lead them to form different types of friendships. The emu footprints can show activities which explore friendships between animals and/or between children and animals. The alphabet icon can involve students in activities which allow them to explore the functions of alphabet with examples from different languages. Children can also engage in activities where they can explore the relationship between spoken and written texts, trace the shapes of different scripts or link shapes of real world objects and the shape of signs, as in hiragana, or letters (e.g. a stretched cat for “C”).

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Figure 3: An example of a puzzle for students to explore

Empowerment There is no clear-cut boundary between the Exploration phase and the Empowerment phase, but there is a difference in purpose. While the Exploratory phase seeks to ensure that students expand the sources of their experiences, in the Empowerment phase students attempt to make sense out of the materials they investigate. The key principle of this phase is the understanding that for the students to engage their personal interpretations and cultural identities, they need tools to enable them to experiment with and test the power (i.e. what they can do with) of the understandings and the skills they have, or can harness, by working alone or in groups, without the teacher taking the lead. To continue with the puzzle example, in order to engage with its activities, students may need to read, write, count, and cross-check their beliefs, look for more information, compare and contrast information they find from one context with that of another. In order to do these complex searches, students learn that information can be organised and retrieved in more than one way, they develop a concept of classification and grouping as well as the ability to group information and strategies in relation to their purpose. To support this kind of learning, teachers need to prepare and gradually build-up the resources, while also organising them in ways which support personally relevant, culturally empowering, critical and creative learning. Over the years, schools can accumulate quite a good collection of selfmade resources to enrich students’ learning. Traditional activities where teachers read to students, or present information which is then to be taught to the students, draw on traditions which developed hundreds of years ago when expectations were different and when the resources were absent or expensive. Today, as in the “Hole in the Wall” experiment, in order to support their exploratory activity, the students can utilise devices such as speech-to-text and text-to-speech systems to help them read and write. They can do this even in the context

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of early childhood education. Students can speak, copy, paste, or type words into these applications to get the job done. Thus, in a play-like fashion, when working with speech to text devices to check whether the computer got their words right, even students those with a low accuracy rate can count or rhythmically correlate the words they said and compare the display on the computer screen. They can use percussion applications to help them in this task, i.e., metronomes, or even movement and tapping. They can also use text-to-speech devices to confirm their findings. Text-to-speech devices allow the students to play with different ways of spelling and to listen to online avatars reading the different texts they type, be it single letters, words, sentences or paragraphs. Using the different speech filters which come with the application, students will modify the pronunciation of texts, a technique which distorts the sound but which also helps reveal relationships between sounds which otherwise are missed in regular speech. Other support may even include traditional, structured online games. The games are part of the many activities the students can draw on in order to verify the ways in which they approach the problems that they experience with reading, writing or interpreting events. While doing this kind of “21st-century phonics”, students explore the links between the written and the spoken text, but this time in relation to their own needs, which are generated in the context of the puzzle. Devices of the kind which support playful explorations help students construct meaningful connections between various meaning-making elements in ways that cannot be accounted for through controlled and structured activities. An exploratory, play-based environment supports multisensory learning which draws on and builds multisensory memory, which then supports meaning-making, “a facility which is missing in people with amnesia” and which depends on “the ability to flexibly recombine stored information in novel ways” that “allows humans to be limitlessly creative and inventive” (Hassabis & Maguire, 2009, p. 1269). It follows that comprehension too is not an act of recall, but an act of connecting: “it is a reconstructive process as opposed to the simple retrieval of a perfect holistic record” (Hassabis & Maguire, 2009, p. 1266). The memories on which students draw are their memories, connected to their personal experiences and feelings, These [memories] include a sense of subjective time, connection to the self, narrative structure …, retrieval of relevant semantic information,

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feelings of familiarity and rich multimodal re-experiencing of the event in a coherent spatial context. (Hassabis & Maguire, 2009, p. 1266)

Evaluation Once students have assembled a range of understandings on the issues which they have explored, they may be ready to share their findings. This is an opportunity for students to do focused work and learn strategies of evaluation and summary. The strategies will help students explore the link between the purpose of summary and its form. Once students identify the purpose for which they create their summaries (e.g. to advocate, to inspire to action), they will be ready to specify a project (an intervention of sorts) which they may wish to carry out. The discussion which follows identifies the steps of this process in relation to Figure 1.

Summarising the Findings In this phase, students identify the relevance of their findings. Students’ reflections can be supported with questions (which too can be presented as a game) and, when needed, students can refer back to the resources they had explored thus far. The questions should build on the objectives of the General Capabilities (ACARA, 2014c). In this way, they will reflect the purpose of the Engagement stage which was to result in students generating personally-relevant, culturally expansive and critically informed reflections. The following examples capture the general direction of such questions: (a) What did the students discover and how is this different from what they knew before? (b) What did the students learn about themselves and others in the course of their explorations and how does it make them feel? (c) Whose expertise did they engage and how? (d) How is this learning impacting on what they now know about their community? (e) What questions do they believe are worth following up and how can they be engaged further?

Identification of the Purpose of the Project The discussions which will ensue should allow the students to identify the purpose of their project. In groups and as a class, students can do so by

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drawing on questions which build on their findings. The questions should elicit the following considerations: (a) What can be done to address the questions that have emerged? (b) How is this action to build strong communities? That is, how will it support Australia’s orientation to build sustainable relationships at the local level and with our nearest neighbours? (c) How is the initiative to have a positive impact on the students as individuals and their perceptions of others? (d) What impact is the project to have on the community that they will engage? The questions draw students’ awareness of the values and objectives which they want to pursue through their project. This phase should culminate in a clear statement regarding the purpose of the action that students will develop, i.e. the impact they wish to effect. A rough draft of the purpose could be, “Through this project we will explore objectives outlined here as responses to (a)-(d). This will show us how to make (for example) our audiobook fun while also interesting to the elderly in the local residential aged care centre.” Stating the purpose of the project orients the inquiry and enables the students to engage in an informed way. The process also illustrates that an inquiry needs to be focused and its scope clearly identified. Complex projects will need to be broken into separate, smaller projects, each with its own structure and each offering its specific insights on the issue in question.

Identification of the Process of the Project In this phase students identify project objectives. They do so in relation to the purpose of their project and the questions which informed its development. This assures their link to the General Capabilities (ACARA, 2014c) and the Cross-curriculum Priorities (ACARA, 2014b).

Analysis At this point, students identify questions which will allow them to interrogate the project’s objectives (the same questions for each objective). The intention is for the questions to identify the aspects of the purpose that need to be addressed (e.g. the impact of the planned intervention, what is required and what resources are need to make it happen).

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Designing Collaboration A clearly identified project structure makes it possible for the students to divide work between the group members. For example, depending on the dynamics involved, the work can be divided between groups, each investigating a different objective. Workload should also be distributed among the individual group members to ensure that each person has a chance to engage in dialogic learning and to bring the outcomes of their work to the group.

The Project In order to complete their projects, once again the students will need to go through the stages of the dialogic model of inquiry. Once again they will do exploratory work in the Engagement stage and will bring their findings to the group following the Evaluation process. The difference is that now, their inquiries have a new focus and therefore the materials they will explore, the perspective they will engage, and the views they will form will be related to this focus. From the perspective of ICT and digital technologies in general, again, it is critical that students have access to materials and tools that can support such learning.

Assessment The dialogic model breaks away from traditional pedagogies that itemise the learning process. Instead, students learn to work with different kinds of information and skills and, in so doing, they become critical and strategic users of information. In a dialogic model, therefore, teachers do not assess items of knowledge. Rather, the aim is to identify how well the students negotiate or mobilise concepts to effect a desired outcome. To this end, teachers will need to identify in students’ work the understandings and the skills that their projects make evident. This is not difficult as, throughout the inquiry process, the collaborative aspect of the projects helps teachers identify where the students and their groups are at each step of the project. This formative assessment also makes it possible for the teachers to identify how the process can be improved. The difference is that in a dialogic model, the school works together to develop and categorise resources which students can then access depending on their questions and thus promoting learning across the curriculum. Assessment of students’ work will need to take into account the support opportunities provided by the learning environment. Teachers need to be aware that achievement

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needs to be supported and that this requires critical examination of the learning opportunities that the teachers make available. The dialogic model helps teachers identify the exact stages where this support may need to be allocated or enhanced.

Summary The dialogic framework for integrating technology into school curricula presented in this chapter was built on the following understandings. First, the chapter showed that the General Capabilities of the Australian Curriculum (ACARA, 2014c) constitute an integrated framework. In other words, for students to develop knowledge of themselves and others, they can do so only by engaging with others (Personal and Social Capabilities). This, in turn, raises questions regarding the quality of students’ engagements and the impact that these engagements have on vision of their community that students construct and which informs their ways of relating to others (Ethical and Intercultural Capabilities). It follows that in order to support students’ informed participation, the sources of information, the scope and the ways in which they work with the information on which they build and which they connect cannot be left to chance. Educators thus are challenged to design environments which allow students to maintain a critical disposition on their own beliefs and which, at the same time, inspire students’ creative engagement in the life of their communities (Creativity and Critical Thinking Capabilities). Second, the chapter looked for evidence which would provide it with principles to support students in developing the skills and dispositions included in the General Capabilities (ACARA, 2014c). To this end, the chapter referred to a number of research fields which concern themselves with the process of meaning making, including semiotics, neuroscience, psychology and sociology of science. The evidence showed that (a) the learning process is inherently dialogic and generated as a response to a perceived demand; (b) that in the course this dialogue students internalise their subjective interpretations of other people’s beliefs, goals, feelings and actions; and (c) that the quality of student learning and therefore its relevance to the students will depend on the extent to which their interpretations are engaged by the learning environment. It follows that in order to support students in developing personally-relevant, expansive, creative, critical and culturally-informed approaches to problem-solving, it is necessary for learning environments to stimulate this internal dialogue

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in ways that make it possible for the students to confront and evaluate the impact of the understandings on which they draw in a needs-based manner. Third, technology was proposed as powerful tool that can support such dialogic interactions. It can do so with the help of (a) meaningfully categorised resources diverse in form, sources and scope; (b) information management tools of various kind, which make it possible for students to break down the understandings in which they frame their action and, as a result, create opportunities for new ways of seeing to emerge; and (c) activities which enable the students to compare and contrast different types of information, thus engaging their multisensory interpretive systems as perspectives from which they can examine what they see, believe or know. Fourth an inquiry-based model was proposed and illustrated in terms of how each of its stages can support the students in a learning context developed on the premises outlined above. The model also showed that, with the help of modern technology, creative and informed thinking and the willingness to move beyond the 16th century paradigms of the pedagogy of “regularity, repetition and regimentation” (Luke, 1989, p. 40), education can finally let go of the old and intellectually tenuous paradigms of “doing” phonics, or forms of tasks, including reading, in a manner (a) which disregards the role that students’ personal and social histories play in their learning process; (b) where the objects of students learning are approached as a reified and therefore arbitrary entity to be imposed; and, as a consequence, (c) where educators avoid the necessity of critical reflection on their own role in the process of students’ learning. Eclectic methods and balanced pedagogies are not the way out, as they propose no intellectual direction which would be able to address these issues. The proposed model for integrating technology into the school curricula showed that when the investment in ICT is coupled with the investment in critically-informed evidence, i.e. understandings which connect intellectual frameworks and findings from a range of disciplines, concepts like inquiry tasks, comprehension or even phonics acquire a richer dimension precisely because they now make room for contributions from other sources, including the students, thus enabling genuine knowledge construction, not knowledge reproduction. Table 1 (below) summarises the understandings developed in this chapter and their implications for the use of technology to support learning. While the chapter was written with a focus on early childhood and primary education, its principles and framework are also applicable to other contexts of learning.

Children learn by internalising their subjective interpretations of other people’s beliefs, goals, feelings and actions. The quality of students’ learning, and the perceptions they will form of themselves and of others as a result, including feelings of selfefficacy, will depend on the extent to which their interpretations are engaged by the learning environment.

The goal of cultural learning is not to master forms, practices or form-meaning relationships. Rather, cultural learning is about exercising cultural authority, i.e. learning by confronting and exploring the

Ethical & Intercultural Capabilities

Learning

We are never either inside or outside a culture; nothing is either thoroughly familiar or thoroughly foreign. Activities need to allow students to explore and experiment with the continuities between spaces

Learning resembles an internal dialogue that students generate about the world around them and about themselves with and within this world in the context of their participation. Activities which support this dialogue make it possible for the students to contest the understandings in which they frame their participation, to evaluate their impact and, as a result, to engage on an increasingly informed basis.

Activities

Evidence and implications

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Information-rich databases, collaborative opportunities and imaginative tools can be designed and integrated into a learning environment to engage students’ multisensory interpretive systems (cognition,

Imaginative use of technology can allow students to reduce the processing load they experience when confronted with a task at hand. Thus the key is not to change the task for the students, but to offer tools which make it possible for the students to evaluate the impact of the understandings on which they act and, in so doing, identify and manage their own learning needs.

Technology

The concept of learning as dialogue implies that it is a series of moment-to-moment responses constructed in order to respond to a problem at hand. These responses are strategic and structured by the students in consideration of the anticipated reactions. It is therefore critical that students develop an informed understanding of the historical context of the “conversations” in which they frame their participation.

rhythm, intonation, aesthetics, emotions, vision, touch) in order to support the search and cross-linking of information in their potentially infinite combinations. It is critical that the resources which learning environments make available to the students reflect the diversity of the world and of the classrooms’ demographics. To this end, it is necessary to engage the students and the local and global communities in identifying relevant resources, and to include materials produced by members of different communities, including their symbols, language and scripts.

A dialogic model of learning was proposed which consists of the stages of Engagement (with Exploration and Empowerment phases), Evaluation and Project Design. The key intention of each of these stages is for the students and the teachers to maintain a critical disposition on their own beliefs

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and, in so doing, engage in the pursuit of novelty implied in the concept of diversity as participation and adaptation to the unfamiliar.

Table 1: A dialogic framework for integrating technology into school curricula.

Critical & Creative Thinking Capabilities

resources of one’s own cultural knowledge, discovering its limitations, but also discovering in it comparisons and contrasts which students can use to shed light on the problems of the encounter.

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—. (2004). Technology-enhanced language learning environments: A rhizomatic approach. In J.-B. Son (Ed.), Computer-assisted language learning: Concepts, contexts and practices, 1-20. New York: iUniverse. Retrieved November 22, 2014 from: http://www.andrewlian.com/andrewlian/prowww/apacall_2004/apacall _lian_ap_tell_rhizomatic.pdf. —. (2011). Reflections on language-learning in the 21st century: The rhizome at work. Rangsit Journal of Arts and Sciences, 1, 5-16, Retrieved November 22, 2014 from: http://www.rsu.ac.th/rjas/issues.php?j=1. —. (2014). On-demand generation of individualised language learning lessons. Journal of Science, 9, 25-38. Lian, A.-P. & Lian, A. B. (1997). The secret of the Shao-Lin monk: Contribution to an intellectual framework for language-learning. OnCALL, 11, 2-19. Retrieved November 22, 2014 from: http://www.andrewlian.com/andrewlian/prowww/shaolin/psupres2.htm Lotto, B. (2014). A beautiful mind — Deepening our understanding of perception, creativity. Learning Technologies Conference. Retrieved August 30, 2015 from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-K0tVtXQJ5A. Luke, C. (1989). Pedagogy, printing, and Protestantism: The discourse on childhood. State University of New York Press. Mills, K. A. (2006). Critical framing in a pedagogy of multiliteracies. In J. Rennie (Ed.), Voices, vibes, visions: Hearing the voices, feeling the vibes, capturing the visions. Australian Association for Teaching English/Australian Literacy Educator's Association, Darwin, Retrieved July, 17, 2015 from: http://eprints.qut.edu.au/archive/00004844. Miller, C. (1994). Rhetorical community: The cultural basis of genre. In A. Freedman & P. Medway (Eds.), Genre and the new rhetoric, 67-78. London: Taylor & Francis. Mitra, S. & Dangwal, R. (2010). Limits to self-organising systems of learning — The Kalikuppam experiment. British Journal of Educational Technology, 41(5), 672-688. Peterson, J. (2011). Creative exploration and its illnesses. Canadian Journal of Psychiatry, 56(3), 129-131. Purves, D, Wojtach, W. T. & Lotto, R. B. (2011). Understanding vison in wholly empirical terms. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, Quantification of Behavior, 108(3), 15588-15595. Swales, J. (1993). Genre and engagement. Revue Belge de Philologie et d’Histoire, 71, 687-698.

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Warschauer, M. (2012). The digital divide and social inclusion. Americas Quarterly, 6(2), 130-135. Watson, S. (2013). New digital technologies: Educational opportunities for Australian Indigenous learners. The Australian Journal of Indigenous Education, 42(1), 58-67.

ACADEMIC WRITING AS AESTHETICS APPLIED: CREATIVE USE OF TECHNOLOGY TO SUPPORT MULTISENSORY LEARNING ANIA LIAN, ADAM BODNARCHUK, ANDREW LIAN* AND CINDY NAPIZA *

CHARLES DARWIN UNIVERSITY, AUSTRALIA SURANAREE UNIVERSITY OF TECHNOLOGY, THAILAND * UNIVERSITY OF CANBERRA, AUSTRALIA

Abstract The chapter describes a pilot project which sought to offer a studentcentred and culturally-sensitive alternative to the traditional, didactic approaches to the pedagogy of academic writing. To this end, the study draws on the neurological theory of aesthetic experience proposed by Ramachandran and Hirstein (1999). Based on this theory, it develops and tests a methodology designed to provide students with tools to evaluate the communicative impact of the meaning-making patterns in relation to which they organise their texts. The cross-disciplinary nature of the project resulted in the development of an approach which (a) provides students with new lenses for examining factors that impact on and interact with text production, and (b) does so in ways that allow students to engage critically with the genre of academic writing and, in so doing, account for their personal and cultural styles.

Curriculum Renewal in Higher Education and Pedagogic Innovation Universities all around the world increasingly engage in redefining their role as leaders of change, innovation and education. Critical aspects of this process of “renewal” involve, inter alia, the issue of accountability of the

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teaching programs and the provision of quality learning experiences for their students. In Australia, the evaluation of teaching programs has been high on the agenda, with new courses and programs explicating their teaching outcomes in terms of graduate attributes, i.e. references to competencies and skills which are closely linked to 21st-century skills (Oliver, Jones, Tucker & Ferns, 2007, p. 1). Typically, they refer to the following qualities: critical thinking, professional expertise, intellectual curiosity, problem-solving, independent thought, creativity, ethical practice, integrity, communication, teamwork, self-management, planning and organising, technology skills, life-long learning, initiative and enterprise. The new accountability processes are to ensure that universities provide comparable learning experiences across the sector, both nationally and internationally, and are capable of “[c]ompet[ing] effectively in the new globalised economy” (Bradley, Noonan, Nugent, & Scales, 2008, p. 1). Also, a shared set of outcomes offers a framework for universities to contextualise the contributions of their programs and initiatives within the broader economic, social, and cultural well-being of international communities. Growing international competition and an increasingly global graduate employment market have opened up a space for pedagogical research and innovation. Universities, therefore, investigate and invest in the ways which make it possible to provide their local and international students with personally-relevant and culturally-sensitive learning experiences (Harrison & Peacock, 2010). High on the agenda of studies in this area is a better understanding of the educational support that is required for students to relate their learning to the values captured in the graduate attributes, while also taking account of students’ cultural diversity and the specificity of the context of their professional engagement. In relation to these goals, Oliver (2010, p. 6) suggests that it is critical for studies to focus on the accountability of the frameworks in which these efforts are articulated and implemented. This study develops from the challenges inherent in the internationalisation agenda of Australian universities and the curriculum renewal policies. It describes a pilot project which sought to offer a fresh approach for analysing the process of academic writing as a context which tests students’ capacity to bring together their combined professional, research and literacy capabilities. The aim was to look for new ideas and perspectives on the factors which interact with the process of writing. The project sought to devise tools that would make it possible for students to explore and analyse texts (published or their own) in ways which are

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personally and culturally relevant and which allow for eliciting textual relationships which, although critically important, are made invisible by traditional approaches to academic writing. The methodology developed for this purpose drew on the understanding that learning is a multisensory experience (Lotto, 2014). This meant that the methods of data collection and its analysis required an approach which would integrate information from a variety of perceptual channels. To this end, the neurological theory of aesthetic experience proposed by Ramachandran and Hirstein (1991) was engaged, as well the theory of verbotonalism (Guberina, 1972; Lian, 1980). The neurological theory of aesthetic experience provided the project with perspectives for analysing the communicative/aesthetic impact of texts while the concepts from corrective phonetics (the principles of verbotonalism) and the understanding that intonation and rhythm offer a temporal dimension to human speech and behaviour (Schwartz & Kotz, 2015; Eagleman, 2011), informed the techniques for representing students’ writing. The cross-disciplinary nature of the project made it possible to design analytical tools that students can use to investigate the writing process without relying solely on the written text. This technique allows students to shift the processing load away from the concern with the meaning of the words (or the text) and, instead, to focus on the aesthetic aspects of texts and their management. In this way, the tools provide students with new lenses for examining factors that impact on and interact with text production. Greater awareness can lead to critical engagement with those factors, including their subversion in order to accommodate for their own personal or cultural or personal styles. In its focus on students’ critical engagement with the genre of academic writing, the methodology of this study breaks with the traditional, positivistic preoccupations with “issues involved in the writing of academic papers” (Street, 2009, p. 1). Overall, the project offers a fresh perspective for thinking about academic writing. It also demonstrates that the pedagogy of academic writing is not a closed book and that cross-disciplinary research can open new insights for thinking about the challenges that it presents to the learning students and to pedagogic action.

Theoretical Framing The methodology of the project links research in pedagogy, semiotics, aesthetics and neuroscience. In regard to pedagogy, the project’s

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objectives are informed by the understanding that learning is both a personal and a social experience. Bourdieu’s concept of habitus (Bourdieu, 1995, p. 54) captures the two dimensions of the context in which learning develops. The implication of this view is that while the goals which inform people’s actions can be related to the different forms of capital (or stakes) that organise human activities, the actions of each and every person are informed by their own experiences or (operational) histories (meaningmaking systems). This principle also applies to teachers and the intentions which they attribute to actions of their students. In short, the questions that students experience as they grapple with the demands of a learning task are not necessarily the same as those for which the teachers provide their feedback. The students and the teachers look at the task through different perspectives and experiences. This is why it is well-known that there is no neutral point of view and, in this sense, no one way of experiencing or reading the world, A measurement is an action on the world by an agent that results in the creation of an outcome ņ a new experience for that agent. (Schack, 2014, p. 14)

In the context of the pedagogy of academic writing, this implies that the frameworks (or the concerns) which inform teachers’ points of view and those of their students are likely to be different. This presents a challenge to pedagogies which are rooted in traditions where teachers frame the object of students’ learning on their behalf and evaluate students’ success accordingly. A different approach is needed, one where teachers do not replace students’ meaning-making systems with their own, but where, instead, students learn by evaluating the communicative impact of their texts on their own terms, i.e. by drawing on their own semiotic resources, as these are the only resources they have to their disposal. It follows that texts are not words organised by grammar, nor are they just “social”. They are time capsules reflecting the history of social engagements that the interlocutors bring with them into the process of text construction and which they negotiate by drawing on the “strands” of past “conversations” in order to create their responses (Bakhtin, 1986, p. 91). This means that the act of reading or writing is an act of participation in those conversations, a move in a game (Freadman, 1994, p. 46), produced in response to earlier texts (interactions) and in anticipation of the responses which might follow.

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Following on these points, the power, or the meaning, of texts does not reside in the text alone. In fact, as Bourdieu (1991) says, “in certain cases it [a text] may even fail to be understood without losing its power” (pp. 111-112). For Bourdieu, writing (or text production in general) involves strategic manipulation of power-relationships in order to invoke in the reader the desired effect. This power is not imposed by the text or its authors; it is delegated when the interlocutors have stakes in the “game" (p. 107). In this perspective, an act of writing is not limited to the construction of a text. Like “the playing of a game” (Freadman, 1994, p. 46), it is constituted of what Freadman calls ceremonies, i.e. an entire set of choices which need to be made for the text to perform itself effectively. These choices are negotiated; they are contextually and culturally informed and therefore open to innovation as well as experimentation (Swales, 1993). This presents the pedagogy of academic writing with another challenge. All too frequently, academic texts are presented as static constructs to conform to. With student agency thus removed, students are provided with a text-based resource (a template) which explicitly demonstrates the language and characteristics of academic writing, with teachers focusing on “relationships among elements of text” (Klein, 1999, p. 203). Students are thus socialised into what is construed as the style of their specific disciplines (Bawarshi & Reiff, 2010, p. 34). For example, Street (2009, p. 3) defines academic writing as a “purposedriven communication in the social context of the academic discourse community”. Since all action is goal-oriented, the definition does not quite capture the context of academic writing as a space open for individual and cultural differences, experimentation and creativity. In his approach, Street draws on genre approaches to academic literacy which are based on systemic functional linguistics (e.g., Halliday & Hasan, 1985; Martin, 2000) and the theoretical framework of New Literacy Studies (Gee, 1990; Street, 1984). In order to account for factors such as power and authority in the disciplines, Street (2009, p. 3) set out to identify the linguistic markers which, in his view, reflected “the hidden criteria” by which texts are examined by different professional bodies: “I wanted to make these features explicit so that writers could anticipate what their readers were going to say”. The approach described by Street illustrates the concerns raised above. First, the intention to focus students on the “hidden” discursive markers of academic genre presupposes that this is where the “issues involved in the

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writing of academic papers” (Street, 2009, p. 1) are situated. However, as argued earlier, there is a difference between what the teacher believes to be a problem and what the students do – and how each person makes meaning. In Street’s model, this distinction is not made. As a result, the students did not work on their problems, but on the problems framed by Street in relation to meaning-making parameters identified by Street. Second, the strategy of making “those features explicit so that writers could anticipate what their readers were going to say” through guided questions (Street, 2009, p. 2) does not leave much room for student agency and opportunities for students to identify assumptions or “ceremonies” (to use Freadman’s concept) on which they draw in the context of writing. The concept of ceremonies is very useful as it suggests that meaningmaking choices are informed by a diverse range of cultural intentions which frame how students position themselves in the game of writing in relation to their interlocutors and in relation to themselves. Classrooms are sites which communicate to the students the rules of the game and in Street’s approach, students’ ceremonies are not the starting point, nor the key point. Instead, Street’s own agenda dominates the class and constructs the students as objects of the socialisation process that he sets up. This is quite different from an approach where, as in Freadman (1994) in the context of a French class, it is not compliance but students’ perceptions of their own power that inform their learning, But asserting authority over a discursive situation is not, by and large, what we teach our students in a foreign language classroom. We teach them – implicitly, to be sure – to be submissive, to bow to the law of a language which they may never master: their errors and the restrictions on linguistic scope that define them as students will always leave them in a position of non-mastery vis-à-vis their interlocutors. (Freadman, 1994, p. 21)

The choice of a pedagogy which “assumes [that] students need to be acculturated into the discourses and genres of particular disciplines” (Street, 2009, p. 4) is justified by Street in relation to frameworks which see academic writing as a social practice bound by its “given institutional and disciplinary context” (p. 3). He proposes no alternative which would allow him to question socialisation as a process of “merging” (with an expert) and meaning-making as a tool to facilitate this merging. Alternative perspectives, including those from different fields, deny both the value and, indeed, the possibility of the process of merging, In what way would it enrich the event if I merged with the other, and instead of two there would be now only one? And what would I myself

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Academic Writing as Aesthetics Applied gain by the other’s merging with me? If he did, he would see and know no more than what I see and know myself; he would merely repeat in himself that want of any issue out of itself which characterizes my own life. Let him rather remain outside of me, for in that position he can see and know what I myself do not see and do not know from my own place, and he can essentially enrich the event of my own life. (Bakhtin, 1990, p. 87)

In the field of philosophy of science, Latour (2004) questions the ontology of an approach where an observer (a researcher) conflates the concerns which guide his or her explanations with those of his or her informants, If you were studying ants, instead of ANT, would you expect ants to learn something from your study? Of course not. … You and your informants have different concerns … You explain what they do to yourself, for your own benefit, not for them … What makes you think that a study was supposed to teach things to the people being studied? (Latour, 2004, p. 71)

In neuroscience, it is now believed that meaning-making is a function of contrasting relationships. These relationships are distributed across the brain and involve multisensory networks (Lotto, 2014). They are formed in the course of life’s experiences and provide individuals with an array of building blocks for creating increasingly informed understandings and ways for asserting one’s own agency. According to Ramachandran and Hirstein (1999) and Hoffman, Singh and Prakash (2015), organisms do not build an image of reality as it is. Rather, they learn what matters to a specific subject individually and as a species: “Our perceptions of spacetime and objects have been shaped by natural selection to hide the truth and guide adaptive behaviors” (Hoffman, Singh & Prakash, 2015, p. 1480). The abovementioned perspectives re-affirm the need for pedagogies which are student-centred (take students’ perspectives in consideration) and which support students in evaluating the relevance of the concepts on which they act. The pilot project described in this chapter was motivated by this objective. The authors looked for concepts and tools which would make it possible for students to confront their own frameworks, compare and contrast their communicative impact and, as a result, re-organise and expand the understandings which inform the strategies they use in the context of academic writing. Ramachandran and Hirstein’s (1999) neurological theory of aesthetic experience and the neural mechanisms that mediate it, when adapted to the context of academic writing, was hypothesised as able to offer some new

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directions to researchers working in this area. The project described in this chapter is the first in a series of steps being undertaken by the research team in order to investigate the contribution of that theory to the pedagogy of academic writing. The eight laws of artistic experience proposed by Ramachandran and Hirstein form a “set of heuristics that artists either consciously or unconsciously deploy to optimally titillate the visual areas of the brain” (p. 15). The laws are based in evolutionary processes and brain circuitry. This means that they are not instantly apparent. They are informed by research that has provided insights on how the human brain constructs meaningful relationships. The project looked for possible links between the genre of academic writing and the universal laws of aesthetic experience proposed by Ramachandran and Hirstein. The basic premise of the project was that if both art and writing are forms of communication, then they should share the same universal laws of aesthetics which, according to Ramachandran and Hirstein, artists deploy to communicate with their audience. However, how this link would reveal itself was not known prior to the study. This is exactly what this project investigated. The following are the research questions: 1. Can the universal laws of aesthetic experience be applied to academic writing? How can their presence be illustrated and mapped out? 2. How do the students and experienced scholars use these laws in order to manage their communication with the audience? 3. Do the findings suggest any implications for pedagogy?

Methodology In a nutshell, the laws of peak shift, grouping, isolation, contrast, symmetry and balance, generic viewpoint and metaphor all describe relationships of contrast, with each law illustrating different ways in which this contrast is generated and therefore engaged to effect impact. The laws provide the project with strategies for data analysis. They are described as follows. Peak shift: This is a well-documented effect in animal discrimination learning. If a rat is taught to discriminate a square from a rectangle and is rewarded for the rectangle, it learns to distinguish the difference between the two shapes. Interestingly, when the aspect ratio of the rectangle changes and becomes greater than the original rectangle, the rat’s response

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is even greater than it was to the original prototype (Ramachandran & Hirstein, 1999, p. 18). This same peak shift was recorded when observing seagull chicks begging for food and their pecking response at the mother’s beak. The chicks displayed the same pecking behaviours toward a stick with a red dot at the end (as on the mother seagull’s beak) and engaged in even greater peck responses when the stick had two or three red dots (Tinbergen, 1953). In art, Ramachandran and Hirstein (1999) describe the peak shift effect in caricatures and cartoon drawings. For example, when drawing faces, the artists take the average of all faces, subtract the average from, say, Nixon’s face (to get the difference between Nixon’s face and all others) and then amplify the differences to produce a caricature, “[t]he final result, of course, is a drawing that is even more Nixon-like than the original” (Ramachandran & Hirstein, 1999, p. 18). In other words, the amplified differences that characterise Nixon’s face act in the same way as an even skinnier rectangle (in the rat experiment described above), as an amplified version of the original. Other art examples include the Chola bronze with the accentuated hips and bust of the Goddess Parvati. Here the artist amplified feminine shape “by moving the image even further along toward the feminine end of the female/male spectrum” in order to create a “super stimulus” in the domain of male/female differences (Ramachandran & Hirstein, 1999, p. 18). The peak shift effect can be applied using or coupling different modalities, such as form and space or colour and space or motion and space, or even in music, “to an extent that would never occur in a real image” (p. 18). Grouping: Ramachandran and Hirstein (1999, p. 21) define grouping as the process of discovering correlations to create unitary objects or events “which must be reinforcing for the organism in order to provide incentive for discovering such correlations”. Examples of grouping are viewing a random jumble of splotches with the visual system linking only a subset of splotches together to make a relevant picture. In the colour space dimension, the principle is used in fashion, for example, when matching colours. The effect is aesthetically pleasing (Ramachandran & Hirstein, 1999, p. 21). Grouping, as Ramachandran and Hirstein explain, is possible because the brain creates links between a range of features which are similar in wavelengths, and although they may be in different physiological spaces in the brain, “[s]uch proximity along different feature dimensions may be useful for perceptual grouping and ‘binding’ of features that are similar within that dimension” (p. 22).

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In short, humans do not have a single neuron or cell dedicated to each object in the world. This is important because this redundancy between systems can be utilised when designing learning support. In addition, the outputs of separate vision modules — space, colour, depth, motion — are not processed first and then evaluated by the limbic system; in fact, the opposite occurs. The signals are first sent to the limbic system, which indicates that the brain evaluates the relevance of the signals at all times, not once it has the “whole” image. The principle of grouping also shows that perception is a process, not an instant computation (Ramachandran & Hirstein, 1999, p. 23). Isolation: Isolation involves focusing on a single visual modality before the signal is amplified in that modality; “this is why an outline drawing or sketch is more effective as ‘art’ than a full colour photo” (Ramachandran & Hirstein, 1999, p. 24). Isolating a single area enables the attention to be drawn more effectively to the one source of information that the artist wants to emphasise. This effect does not imply that an outline is sufficient to represent an object. Rather, Ramachandran and Hirstein argue that neural networks compete for attention and, when information is not critical, removing the clutter may assist perception and therefore help the artist to draw attention to a specific modality; “more is less” (p. 24). They also add that, as in peak shift, to generate aesthetic effect one would need engage relationships of contrast. So for example, when showing lit up male and female figures, to make it aesthetically pleasing one would need to “subtract the female motion trajectories from the male and amplify the difference” (p. 25). Contrast: The process of grouping will not happen without contrast. In other words, the extraction of features prior to grouping, which requires discarding redundant information, involves extracting contrast which is reinforcing or allocating attention (Ramachandran & Hirstein, 1999, p. 26). Information, they argue, “exists mainly in regions of change — e.g. edges — and it makes sense that such regions would, therefore, be more attention grabbing — more ‘interesting’ — than homogeneous areas” (p. 25). As a result, perception focuses on those areas of change and finds them interesting and, therefore, maybe also pleasing. The example of a nude wearing baroque gold jewelry is more aesthetically pleasing than a completely nude women or one wearing jewelry and clothes because there is a sharp contrast between the smooth skin and the rich texture of the jewelry (Ramachandran & Hirstein, 1999, p. 25).

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Symmetry and balance: This is the agreement in dimension and due proportions in arrangement (Ramachandran & Hirstein, 1999, p. 27). For example, from an artistic point of view, this can be seen in an Islamic mosque or when looking through a kaleidoscope. Perceptual problem solving or generic viewpoint (familiarity): This law relates to how most people would view something even though theoretically it could be seen from another unique viewpoint (Ramachandran & Hirstein, 1999, p. 27). In short, people prefer to see things organised in a familiar way. The example of looking at cube is used to demonstrate this law. Whilst most people prefer the generic viewpoint of a cube, a flat hexagon with radiating spokes could be a cube but is never seen as one (p. 28). However, Ramachandran and Hirstein do admit that “a pleasing effect can be produced by violating this law rather than adhering to it” (p. 30). This point is demonstrated by a Picasso nude that depicts the improbability of the arm’s outline exactly coinciding with that of the torso. Still, the law illustrates that the “visual system abhors interpretations which rely on a unique vantage point” (Ramachandran & Hirstein, 1999, p. 30). Metaphor: The metaphor effect involves a combination of unlikely and yet meaning-adding signals (concepts) which reinforce a particular feature, like the curves of a tree branch which mimic the curves of a woman: “[t]he curves of the branch match that of her curves, the fruit in the branch echoes the curves of the breasts and abdomen, and perhaps the tree’s fertility is a metaphor for her youthfulness” (Ramachandran & Hirstein, 1999, p. 30). Another example they give is when Shakespeare says of Juliet, “[d]eath that has sucked the honey of thy breath” (p. 31). The key in the law of the metaphor is seeing similarity, a common denominator between disparate entities (p. 31). The linking of superficially dissimilar events then leads to a limbic activation which ensures that the process is rewarding and pleasing (examples include puns, poetry, and visual art) (Ramachandran & Hirstein, 1999, p. 31). The techniques for representing students’ writing were informed by research in corrective phonetics (Guberina, 1972; Lian, 1980) and neuroscience (Schwartz & Kotz, 2015). Research in both areas predicts a relationship between behaviour and time. It is acknowledged in the literature of neuroscience that timing is necessary for the generation of predictions about upcoming events and to adjust behaviour accordingly: “efficient temporal processing is required to establish adequate internal representations of temporal structure” (Schwartz & Kotz, p. 1697). In turn,

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verbotonalism identified intonation as a structure which organises human speech “in time” and, possibly, also elements within the prosodic groups, including grammar. The relationship between intonation and grammar was proposed by research in second language acquisition that indicated that “prosodic structure may help bootstrap syntactic acquisition” (Christophe, Gout, Peperkamp & Morgan 2003, p. 595). Furthermore, temporality and physical limitations of the human brain have been linked in research. It has long been known that adults are presumed to hold anything between 7 (± 2) chunks in their working memory (Miller, 1956). Oscillatory brain rhythms appear to match these numbers, and some initial studies on the significance of this phenomenon to learning are being investigated and showing promising results (Kendrick et al., 2011). Also, differences have been reported in the number of information items adults and children can hold in their working memory (Kharitonova, Winter & Sheridan, 2015). Visual working memory capacity is more limited, with adults being unable to maintain more than four (about 3 to 5) items (Kharitonova et al., 2015, p. 1775). Also, human memory for sequences of auditory events is limited to 4 to 7 items (McCauley & Christiansen, 2015). In order to account for the temporal dimension of human speech and behaviour, project participants were recorded reading their own academic texts. The aim was for the recordings to illustrate how the participants related timing and meaning, i.e. how they organised their own text in time. This included questions regarding what the participants saw as an event in their text, how they signalled its anticipation and presence, what they stressed, when and how. Pitch charts of voice recordings were created to reflect the intonation patterns of the texts and the relationships between those patterns. The Praat (Boersma & Weenink, n.d.) speech analysis application was used to perform pitch analyses. For the purpose of the project, only the first 60 seconds of those voice recordings have been analysed so far. The analysis looked at the rhythmic and aesthetic characteristics of academic writing. The graphic representation of the academic text was used like a painting and the analysis reflected information about the painting revealed through the application of the neurological laws of aesthetic experience. There are likely to be many ways to reflect the interaction of these laws with academic texts. This chapter illustrates its own interpretation.

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In this chapter, two texts will be compared. One was written by Andrew Lian, one of the authors of this article, who is an experienced academic author. Another was written by a member of the research team who is a student. Andrew Lian’s text was used to create a frame of reference for comparison. The aim of the analysis was to explore the relevance of the laws of aesthetic experience to the genre of academic writing. This is the first project of this kind and, for now, it was important to test the methodology to see if the project was worth following up in the future.

Analysis and Findings Figure 1 illustrates the analysis of the first 60 seconds of Andrew Lian’s reading of his text. The intonation graph was divided into major prosodic groups which started with a Roman number. Each major group was a sentence and included prosodic sub-groups. Each group was organised around its stress centre. Figure 2 displays the patterns inside the individual sub-groups. Table 1 explains the markings in Figure 1.

Figure 1: Intonation patterns of the text written and read by Andrew Lian. No 1

Law applied Isolation (T = title)

Text which was read out “On-demand generation of individualised language learning lessons”

2

Isolation (sub-title)

Reflections on language-learning

I

Peak shift (marking the start of a sentence)

In a paper entitled “The Secret of the Shao-Lin Monk”, published in On-CALL

II

Grouping (lower than 1)

Ania Lian and I argued that language-learning, by virtue of the nature of the human condition,

III

Grouping (lower than 1 and II)

required a re-think in the ways in which it was implemented

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IV

Grouping (lower than 1, II and III)

so as to enable it to make room for differences between people

V

Grouping (lower than 1, II, III and IV)

and for the unpredicted and unpredictable needs which they may experience

I

Peak shift (marking the start of a sentence)

Underpinning these conclusions and suggestions for change are the following theoretical issues

T

Isolation (sub-title)

I

Peak shift (marking the start of a sentence)

Language and all semiotic systems, and therefore language-learning,

II

Grouping (lower than 1)

are essentially about the management of meanings.

T

Isolation (sub-title)

I

Peak shift (marking the start of a sentence

(A)

(B) Meaning is not objectively present e.g. in words and situations but is created as a result of each person’s interactions with the world, its various discourses and other signifying practices (or events).

Table 1: Content synchronised with intonation patterns in Figure 1. Words which carry stress are typed in bold.

Figure 2: Relationships inside of the prosodic groups in the text written and read by Andrew Lian. For clarity, other than the titles, only the first two groups are being shown.

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The following patterns were observed between the prosodic groups and within the groups: 1. Complexity and grouping: Peak shifts, in this context, referred to strategies with which intonation chunks signalled new information. In Figure 1, peak shifts are at the start of the sentence and are the most stressed element in the group. The group which starts with “Peak Shift I” is complex, it consists of 5 prosodic groups (I - V), each group having a clearly distinguishable stress marker. 2. Redundancy, clarity and grouping Each group in a sentence is long and therefore easy to distinguish from other groups. 3. Regularity and grouping The peak in each prosodic group of a sentence is lower than in the preceding group (e.g. groups I – V in Figure 2). 4. Relevance Peak shifts tend to have the same height, except for the first sentence. 5. Headings Titles have a lower pitch and are set apart from the rest of the text. In relation to the universal laws of aesthetic experience, a number of patterns appear. It has to be noted that the principles work together. This means that the grouping principle cannot work without contrast or balance. The following patterns emerge from Figures 1 and 2: 1. Complexity and grouping: the principle of grouping The complexity of the whole sentence and each of its prosodic groups is consistent with the principle of grouping. The principle declares that the act of grouping is an act of problem solving, i.e. an engagement in a discovery of correlations to create objects or events. An act of problem solving activates the limbic system which directs attention to signals and clues (Ramachandran & Hirstein, 1999, p. 23). Partial high-level hypotheses “are fed back from every level in the hierarchy to every earlier module to impose a small bias in processing and the final percept emerges from such progressive ‘bootstrapping’” (Ramachandran & Hirstein, 1999, p. 23). In art, this is facilitated when the artist tries to tease the system with as many of these potential object clues as possible. Since the grouping does not always occur spontaneously, in the context of academic writing, the process is enhanced when, like an artist, the

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author provides the readers with potential object clues (Ramachandran & Hirstein, 1999, p. 23). In Figures 1 and 2, the level of information provided by Andrew Lian is high (between 4 to 5 items), which makes it possible for the readers to narrow down their understandings of the object or event that is discussed. This form of “unpacking” of the context, enhances the intellectual density of the paper while also making the ideas which form them more transparent or visible. 2. Redundancy, clarity and grouping: the principle of balance Segmenting “objects” or identifying relevant relationships from what seems to be a “noisy background” is difficult but can be enhanced through increased redundancy (Ramachandran & Hirstein, 1999, p. 24). Good balance between more and less relevant information is an important factor. To exert this effect, it needs to be applied consistently; “consistency between partial highlevel ‘hypotheses’ and earlier low-level ensembles also generates a pleasant sensation” (Ramachandran & Hirstein, 1999, p. 23). The principle of balance therefore can be seen to be applied in Figures 1 and 2, where the size of prosodic groups is kept consistent (about 45 stresses). 3. Regularity and grouping: the principle of contrast. The peak of each prosodic group in a sentence is lower than in the preceding group. This regularity allows readers to establish the relevance between the chunks in relation to the previous groups, with the peak shift marking the theme of the sentence (the key point of reference). The principle of contrast captures this value relationship between the prosodic groups. There is no confusion that what follows is related to the preceding chunks. 4. Relevance: the principle of familiarity It is expected, at least in English, that each sentence will begin with the highest pitch. This expectation allows readers to re-group their attention, prepare for new information and look for new connections. The principle of familiarity illustrates this expectation. In other words, while it may be possible to begin a sentence or a paragraph with no peak shift, an exaggerated stress which peak shifts provide is more likely to be expected and therefore will be interpreted as a clue for supporting meaning-making. In Figure 1, all peak shifts are of equal value, except for the first one. This may indicate that the first peak shift marked the theme of the whole paragraph, hence it was given the highest strength.

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5. Headings: the principle of isolation Interestingly, the titles of the sections always began with a moderate pitch. In fact, in Figure 1, the pitch is lower than in any other prosodic group that followed. The principle of isolation applies here as a moderate pitch distinguishes the headings from peak shifts which begin sentences and which, at least in Figure 2, carry the highest stress. Table 2 provides a summary of these results. The analysis will function as a baseline for academic writers to aim for and as a frame of reference for comparison. Principle

What it looks like in practice

Purpose

Complexity and grouping: the principle of grouping

Figure 1 shows that the level of information provided by the researcher is high. There are 4 to 5 prosodic groups for a sentence and between 4 to 5 items for each prosodic group.

The author provides the readers with potential object (concept) clues to assist comprehension.

Redundancy, clarity and grouping: the principle of balance

The size of the prosodic groups (Figure 2) is kept consistent (about 4-5 stresses per group).

This gives readers a chance to pace themselves and distinguish between elements which have different information value.

Regularity, peaks and grouping: the principle of contrast

The peak of each prosodic group in a sentence is lower than in the preceding group (Figure 1).

The regularity of the falling peaks helps readers identify relationships between the groups, with peak shifts, at the start of each sentence, clearly demarcating the beginning of a new thought (the key point of reference).

Relevance: the principle of familiarity

Peak shifts tend to have the same height, except for the first sentence (Figure 1)

It is expected, at least in English, that each sentence will begin with the highest pitch (a theme). This expectation allows readers

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to re-group their attention, prepare for new information and look for new connections. Headings: the principle of isolation

The titles of the sections always began with a moderate pitch. In fact, in Figure 1, the pitch is lower than in any other prosodic group that followed.

A moderate pitch distinguishes the headings from peak shifts which begin sentences and which, at least in Figure 2, carry the highest stress.

Table 2: Summary of analysis of Andrew Lian’s text In order to establish the significance of the patterns identified so far, an analysis of a student’s voice recording is conducted and described below.

Figure 3: Intonation patterns in a text written and read by a student.

Figure 4: Relationships inside the prosodic groups in the student’s text. Again, for clarity of the picture, only a few groups were analysed.

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Table 2 below relates the descriptors of good writing obtained from Andrew Lian’s text to the data from the text of the student. Principle, practice and purpose

Student

Implication

x The principle of grouping: The density of information needs to be high, i.e. between 4 to 5 items per sentence and per each prosodic group. This is to provide the readers with potential object clues to assist comprehension. x The principle of balance: The size of the prosodic groups needs to be kept consistent. This gives readers a chance to pace themselves and distinguish between elements which have different information value. x The principle of contrast: The peak of each prosodic group in a sentence should be lower than in the preceding group. Clear differences between the prosodic groups help readers establish the relationships between the groups.

x Each sentence in Figure 3 contains less than half (two exactly) of the amount of prosodic groups than the text of Andrew Lian. x The prosodic groups in Figure 4 are shown to contain 3-5 elements.

The student, at least in the section that was analysed, provides much less support for the reader to contextualise the subject discussed in the text. This may reduce chances for good comprehension.

x Figure 4 shows that the size of the prosodic groups varies from 3-5.

The lack of consistency impacts on the balance and therefore the rhythm of the text. It may be hard for the readers to organise their expectations as they read the text.

x Figure 3 shows that the peaks of Group I and Group II in a sentence show some falling pattern but not as distinct as in Andrew Lian’s text. x Figure 4 shows that the peaks within the prosodic groups (1, 2, 3, 4) do not always follow the falling pattern. Figure 4 shows one sentence with peaks of equal height.

The sentences do not have more than two prosodic groups. Every sentence appears to be equally important and no clear pattern emerges that would support easy differentiation of relevance. This may hinder, rather than facilitate, text comprehension.

Ania Lian, Adam Bodnarchuk, Andrew Lian and Cindy Napiza x The principle of familiarity: Peak shifts should have the same height, except for the first sentence. Using the same pattern for indicating the start of a new sentence provides readers with clear signals to prepare for new information. x The principle of isolation: The titles of the sections begin with a moderate pitch. A moderate pitch distinguishes the headings from peak shifts which begin sentences and which, at least in Figure 2, carry the highest stress.

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x Figure 3 shows that peak shifts, with one exceptions, tended to have the same height. x However, not all sentences started with the highest peak.

The strategy to use the highest pitch at the start of a sentence was applied mostly, but not at all times. An uneven pattern may interfere with readers’ expectations.

x On average, the titles had a moderate pitch. They appear on the graphs as isolated peaks.

The headings are clearly distinguishable. This may suggest that they are well-formulated as they can stand on their own.

Table 2 Analysis of speech patterns in the student’s text. In summary, the pitch patterns in the student’s text tell a different story than the patterns identified in Andrew Lian’s text. For one, the gaps between the groups which carry important information are more frequent in the student’s text: every second intonation group is presented as equally (or more) important. This may make the text seem dense as readers are left to their own resources to differentiate the relevance of the ideas expressed in the text. Interestingly, in Andrew Lian’s text, the average number of peaks within a single prosodic group appears to coincide with the oscillatory brain rhythms reported by Kendrick et al. (2011), while the amount of prosodic groups within a sentence correlates with the 7 (± 2) chunks as predicted by Miller (1956) in relation to the capacity of working memory in humans. Second, the brevity of sentences may also indicate that the author does not provide readers with sufficiently rich ideas which would qualify his or her statements. In terms of the neurological theory of aesthetic experience this is a very significant issue, considering that perception, and therefore comprehension, both rely on clues. It follows that texts need to be rich in

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clues to be more effective and efficient – they need to convey a lot in a short time. Third, the place of the highest peaks in a sentence varies. Sometimes they can be placed at the start of the sentence, but not always. The logic of this organisation may be justifiable, once the whole paragraph is analysed. For now, though, it is hypothesised that the changes in the rhythm may not work well for the text. In fact, a listener or a reader of the text may find it difficult to “organise themselves in time”, i.e. to know when to expect the most relevant information. Fourth, the varying size of prosodic groups distorts the balance of the text. This is not the case in Andrew Lian’s text. Again, more analysis needs to be performed. However, for now, it is concluded that this lack of balance works against the comprehensibility of the text and, therefore, its clarity.

Significance of the Study and Pedagogic Implications The pilot study presented in this chapter suggests that the application of the laws of aesthetic experience to the genre of academic writing is worth further study. The hypotheses drawn on the basis of the study show that students may benefit from tools which allow them to explore intonation patterns in their own writing from the perspective of the impact they have on aspects of writing, such as complexity of sentence structure, logical organisation of sentences and paragraphs, balance and rhythm. The preliminary findings reported in this chapter were generated on the basis of the assumption that the way we write is reflected in the way in which our brains organise information in general in order to generate an aesthetically pleasing effect. In order to relate this assumption to writing, the act of reading was employed in order to reveal features (ways of generating meaning) of academic writing that otherwise escape our attention when the text is in its written form only. The results of this small pilot study show that this strategy helped expand the range of relationships which students can consider when analysing writing. In itself, this is a very positive outcome. It indicates that the prosodic structures should not be ignored and that they are not simply pasted onto the writing in order to create spoken text. The prosodic markers show to be actually built into the syntax/sequential organisation of written text. Furthermore, the correlations that the study proposed between prosody and the laws of aesthetic experience were informed by the understanding that

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the processes which inform the syntax/sequential organisation of written texts draw on a multiplicity of cognitive systems, not grammar alone. This point is likely to be ignored by teachers who analyse texts through the lenses of linguistics only and who assume that students do too. More research is needed but it appears that students are likely to benefit from tools which allow them to tap into their multisensory meaningmaking systems and enable them to examine, in more than one way, the communicative impact of their own texts. Table 2 illustrates an example of reading the pitch charts but does not exhaust the possibilities. The analysis in Table 2 draws on Ramachandran and Hirstein’s (1999) neurological theory of aesthetic experience which provides questions and insights against which students can explore the ways in which they organise and relate information. The questions target a multiplicity of perspectives and allow students to evaluate the intellectual density of their texts, their comprehensibility, predictability and clarity. All these parameters refer to global qualities of text. This means that students are empowered to explore their texts and identify aspects which they believe need changing. It may be that these changes will affect conceptual aspects of students’ writing as well as its language. The key advantage of the approach described in this chapter over and above more traditional teacher-centred models is exactly its ability to engage students in examining their own writing without teachers turning any particular aspect of students’ writing into an “issue” (and, possibly, neglecting other equally important but invisible to them). Expert texts can be provided for students to compare and contrast. However, there is no top-down “modeling” of texts, since students work with pitch graphs and, even when given access to expert texts, they still make conceptual and language changes which they judge to be relevant to their own goals. The model is inherently critical as it provides students with tools which allow them to break down the assumptions which inform their writing; they can now think about them and represent them in more than one way through different associations, A thing or idea seems meaningful only when we have several different ways to represent it ņ different perspectives and different associations. … In other words, we can “think” about it. … So something has a “meaning” only when it has a few; if we understood something just one way, we would not understand it at all. That is why the seekers of the “real” meanings never find them. (Minsky, 1981)

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Future research will allow researchers to make a greater use of the laws of aesthetic experience proposed by Ramachandran and Hirstein (1999). Some of these laws, like the law of metaphor, may apply to text structures that are larger than those analysed thus far. Furthermore, pitch charts are not the only way to engage the laws of aesthetic experience. Any opportunities which allow students to experience their own texts differently are likely to generate fresh perspectives and new sets of awarenesses.

References Bakhtin, M. M. (1986). The problem of speech genres. In C. Emerson & M. Holquist (Eds.), Speech genres and other late essays (V. W. McGee,Trans.), 60-102, Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Bawarshi, A. & Reiff, M. J. (2010). Genre: An introduction to history, theory, research, and pedagogy. Parlor Press. The WAC Clearinghouse. Retrieved March 21, 2015 from: http://wac.colostate.edu/books/bawarshi_reiff/chapter3.pdf. Boersma, P. & Weenink, D. (n.d.) Praat: Doing phonetics by computer [Computer software]. Retrieved March 12, 2016 from: http://www.fon.hum.uva.nl/praat/. Bourdieu, P. (1991). Language and symbolic power. (Trans. G. Raymond & M. Adamson). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. —. (1995). The logic of practice (R. Nice Trans.). Cambridge: Polity Press. Bradley, D., Noonan, P., Nugent, H. & Scales, B. (2008). Executive summary. Review of Australian higher education. Australian Government. Retrieved October 26, 2011 from: http://www.deewr.gov.au/HigherEducation/Review/Pages/ReviewofA ustralianHigherEducationReport.aspx. Christophe, A., Gout, A., Peperkamp, S. & Morgan, J. (2003). Discovering words in the continuous speech stream: The role of prosody. Journal of Phonetics 31, 585-598. Eagleman, D. (2011). Incognito: The secret lives of the brain. New York: Pantheon. Freadman, A. (1994). Anyone for tennis? In A. Freedman & P. Medway (Eds.), Genre and the new rhetoric, 37-56. London: Taylor & Francis. Gee, J.P. (1990). Social linguistics and literacies: Ideology in discourse. London: Falmer Press.

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Guberina, P. (1972). Restricted bands of frequencies in auditory rehabilitation of deaf. Zagreb: Institute of Phonetics, Faculty of Arts, University of Zagreb. Halliday, M. A. K. & Hasan, R. (1985). Language, context and text: Aspects of context and language in a social-semiotic perspective. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Harrison, N. & Peacock, N. (2010) Cultural distance, mindfulness and passive xenophobia: Using integrated threat theory to explore home higher education students’ perspectives on internationalisation at home. British Educational Research Journal, 36(6), 877-902. Hoffman, D. D., Singh, M. & Prakash, C. (2015). The interface theory of perception. Psychonomic Bulletin & Review, 22, 1480-1506. Kendrick, K. M., Zhan, Y., Fischer, H., Nicol, A. U., Zhang, X. & Feng, J. (2011). Learning alters theta amplitude, theta-gamma coupling and neuronal synchronization in inferotemporal cortex. Neuroscience, 12, 1-23. Kharitonova, M., Winter, W. & Sheridan, M. A. (2015). As working memory grows: A developmental account of neural bases of working memory capacity in 5- to 8-year old children and adults. Journal of Cognitive Neuroscience, 27, 1775-1788. Klein, P. D. (1999). Reopening inquiry into cognitive processes in writing to learn. Educational Psychology Review, 11(3), 203-270. Latour, B. (2004). On using ANT for studying information systems: A (somewhat) Socratic dialogue. In C. Avgerou, C. Ciborra & F. F. Land (Eds.), The social study of Information and Communication Study, 6276. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Retrieved July 2, 2015 from: http://www.bruno-latour.fr/sites/default/files/90-ANT-DIALOG-LSEGB.pdf. Lian, A.-P. (1980). Intonation patterns of French. Melbourne, Auckland: River Seine Publications Pty Ltd. Lotto, B. (2014). A beautiful mind — Deepening our understanding of perception, creativity. LearningTech UK. Retrieved September 16, 2015 from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-K0tVtXQJ5A. Martin, J. (2000). Design and practice: Enacting functional linguistics in Australia. Annual Review of Applied Linguistics, 20, 116-126. McCauley, S. M. & Christiansen, M. H. (2015). Individual differences in chunking ability predict on-line sentence processing. In D. C. Noelle, R. Dale, A. S. Warlaumont, J. Yoshimi, T. Matlock, C. D. Jennings & P. P. Maglio (Eds.), Proceedings of the 37th Annual Conference of the Cognitive Science Society, 1553-1558. Austin, TX: Cognitive Science Society. Retrieved September 27, 2015 from:

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http://cnl.psych.cornell.edu/pubs/2015-mc-cogsci.pdf. Miller, G. (1956). The magical number seven, plus or minus two: Some limits on our capacity for processing information. Psychological Review, 63, 81-97. Retrieved September 19, 2016 from: http://homepage.psy.utexas.edu/homepage/class/Psy355/Gilden/Magic NumberSeven.pdf. Minsky, M. (1981). Music, mind, and meaning. Computer Music Journal, 5(3), 8-44. Retrieved December 2, 2003, from: http://web.media.mit.edu/~minsky/papers/MusicMindMeaning.html. Oliver, B. (2011). Assuring graduate outcomes. The Australian Learning and Teaching Council. Retrieved September 19, 2016 from: http://assuringlearning.com/resources/Assuring_graduate_outcomes_A LTC_Good_practice_report.pdf. Oliver, B., Jones, S., Tucker, B. & Ferns, S. (2007). Are my students work-ready? Graduate and employer feedback for comprehensive course review. Paper presented at the Evaluations and Assessment conference, Brisbane. Retrieved June 9, 2016 from: http://c2010.curtin.edu.au/local/docs/paper5.pdf. Ramachandran, V. & Hirstein, W. (1999). The science of art: A neurological theory of aesthetic experience. Journal of Consciousness Studies, 6(6-7), 15-51. Schack, R. (2014). QBism: What quantum mechanics says about the world. Meeting on Quantum Foundations, the University of Sydney. Retrieved August 19, 2015 from: http://www.physics.usyd.edu.au/~ericc/SQF2014/slides/Ruediger%20S chack.pdf. Schwartz, M. & Kotz, S. (2015). The timing of regular sequences: Production, perception, and covariation. Journal of Cognitive Neuroscience, 27, 1697-1707. Street, B. V. (1984). Literacy in theory and practice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Street, B. (2009). “Hidden” features of academic paper writing. Working Papers in Educational Linguistics, 24(1), 1-17. Swales, J. (1993). Genre and engagement. Revue Belge de Philologie et d’Histoire, 71, pp. 687-698. Tinbergen, N. 1953. The herring gull’s world: A study of the social behaviour of birds. London: Collins.

BUT I CAN PRACTISE PIANO ON MY IPAD JUSTINA FERNANDES AND JON MASON CHARLES DARWIN UNIVERSITY, AUSTRALIA

Abstract This chapter raises questions concerning the role of digital technology in facilitating music education in primary schools, particularly in Australia. For example, how might best practices in using technology support music education, given the pace of technological change? Are current policies and practices surrounding teacher training serving the goals of music education? Should technology innovation or educational philosophy determine the direction of music education, or does posing such a question mask the mutually informing nature of these key influences? Building upon an initial student inquiry during 2014, this chapter considers changes in education triggered by innovation in digital technology, as well as the contemporary situation in Australian primary school music education, and it provides advocacy for technology-infused music teaching and learning in primary schools into the future.

Introduction “I practised this morning!” “Really?” “Yes, I practised in the car on the way to school … on my iPad”

It is hard to ignore the ubiquitous presence of technology in our current times. The technological advances since the turn of the century have had an enormous impact on society and have transformed the ways in which people live, interact, and learn. In recent times much has been written about the enabling impact of the digital revolution on education, whether in public policy or in academic discourse (Peluso, 2012; Selwyn, 2012; Moyle, 2010; Rudd, Smith, & Conroy, 2007). It stands to reason then that technology might also play a significant role in the enhancement of music

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education. For many children, being accustomed to using technology is routine and the idea of completing piano practice on an iPad may seem natural and exciting. Of course, using technology to advantage does not necessarily replace earlier technologies, such as pianos. Television did not replace radio and the internet has not replaced television. What is clear is that innovations in digital technology open up and extend the scope of activities useful for teaching and learning. For some people this technology-driven change is enabling; for others, it can be a source of frustration and the term disruptive technologies is often invoked to indicate this (Conole, De Laat, Dillon, & Darby, 2008). Thus, the rapid pace at which digital technology evolves also brings unpredictability and this presents challenges for future application in education. In focusing on the impact of digital technology on music education, this chapter draws on perspectives from relevant literature, much of which has implication within the wider global context. Issues that need consideration are highlighted for informed decisions to be made to guide the integration of digital technology into the primary school music curriculum.

Technology in education Technology in education has been described as the force behind much innovation, boundary merging and frontline thinking (Law & Ho, 2009; Norris, Mason & Lefrere, 2003). Over the past few years technology has found its way into every area of the school curriculum. Nevertheless, integrating technology into effective educational practice can be a very complex and comprehensive process, often facing several obstacles (Rogerson, 2013; Ruthmann et al, 2008; Uptis, 2001). So, whether innovation follows in the wake of technology adoption is not necessarily a given and is something that constantly requires verification. A typical consequence of developing a technologically enhanced teaching and learning environment in schools has been an increase in the demand for pedagogical practices that accommodate the affordances of technology and that enable “new learning” (Cope & Kalantzis, 2010). In this era of digital transformation, however, a mismatch between pedagogical practices and the uses of technology can arise, thus affecting existing educational systems, policies and processes (Ates, 2012). Moreover, the knowledge, skills and beliefs of teachers surrounding the incorporation of technology into education play a very significant role in the formulation of

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technologically enhanced teaching and learning in schools (Russel-Bowie, 2009; 2012). In responding to these challenges, various conceptual frameworks have been developed, among them the Technological Pedagogical Content Knowledge (TPACK) framework, which highlights seven distinct perspectives of knowledge at various stages of integration (Mishra & Koehler, 2006; Chai, Koh, Tsai & Tan, 2011). Research that explores TPACK validity across subject disciplines is very much a work-inprogress, with Bauer (2010) finding it necessary to introduce the notion of “adaptive expertise” in the application of TPACK to music education in order to accommodate the creative and performance aspects of music. Alternative but complementary frameworks have also emerged from the discourse on “21st-century skills”, in which there is a distinct shift of focus from content knowledge toward learning skills – and integral to all the various versions of what these skills might be is the notion of competence in the use of digital technology (Griffin, McGaw & Care, 2012; Hanover Research, 2011). Likewise, the discourse on the role of informal learning (i.e. learning outside formal venues) in acquiring competence with digital technology is also relevant to this discussion (Karlsen & Väkevä, 2012).

Music and Education The presence of music as an integral component of a rounded education has been a phenomenon for several centuries in numerous cultures and education systems, whether embedded within a standard curriculum or not (Mark, 1982). Helping young people discover the power in this art form is something that has also inspired educators, philosophers and enthusiasts to create new paradigms for music learning (Vitale, 2011; 2012; O’Neill, 2012; Bartel, 2004). Over a decade ago the music industry in Australia was estimated to be valued at over seven billion dollars. This statistic highlights the significance of the music sector to the country’s GDP, job opportunities, music businesses and other areas (Pascoe et al., 2005). Music is deeply ingrained in almost every aspect of culture and society and provides opportunities for creative expression, exploration, understanding and imagination, besides having connections with development, healing and wellbeing. It is therefore hard to ignore the compelling evidence presented by extensive research that suggests the powerful effects of music on

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personal, social, emotional and academic development (Gill, 2011; Olson, 2009). The foundations of musicality are typically laid while a person is young, and several research studies have pointed out the benefits that a quality music education offers to children who receive it (Russel-Bowie, 2006; Gill, 2011). Principles underlying music teaching and learning in childhood are based on theoretical underpinnings that build on studies in child cognitive development. Most popular methods with worldwide appeal, such as those developed by Kodály, Dalcroze, Orff or Suzuki, recommend that music should be introduced as early in life as possible and that progress be made in steps from simple to complex (Hendricks, 2011; Casarow, n.d.; Choksy & Kodály, 1981; Orff & Walter, 1963; Mead, 1994). For instance, the Kodály method suggests that music be introduced in its most natural form, singing (Comeau, n.d.). Similarly, Suzuki has explained that music learning takes place in a similar way to language acquisition and therefore children should be immersed in a musical environment early in order to learn most effectively (Comeau, n.d.). Views on the role of technology in education, and in particular primary school education, have been somewhat contrary to the progression of music learning in childhood, with some advocating that technology is detrimental to the natural process of learning as it can impede creative thought (Pascoe et al., 2005) or at the very least needs to be considered very carefully (Buckingham, 2013). As a response to significant public investment in digital education, it is also common to read editorials in the news media with headlines such as “Are iPads a recipe for mass distraction or an essential tool?” (McNeilage, 2014). Beyond such debates, however, a significant factor determining a teacher’s use of technology in the classroom is the teacher’s own proficiency in technology use and application (Russel-Bowie, 2009; McDowall, 2009; Pascoe et al., 2005). Such views are contested, however, and a study by Frazier (2009) revealed that there is no significant difference in the amount of technology usage by highly experienced teachers and teachers with little or no experience. Whether there can be a conclusive answer to this issue, the fact is that educational authorities recognise the importance of teachers maintaining competence in their use of digital technology in the articulation of professional standards (AITSL, 2014). Such standards are also a source of pressure for teachers: while many teachers may be willing to improve their skills in applying technology in the classroom, this willingness often gets put aside in favour of more confronting responsibilities associated with

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teaching, such as a crowded curriculum (Scott, 2013; Tezer & Karasel, 2009).

Current Issues in Teacher Training Courses Offered by Australian Universities In 2011, after some years of a growing agenda that included teacher competence and a national approach, the Australian Professional Standards for Teachers were introduced in Australia and adopted by state and territory teacher registration boards in 2013 (AITSL, 2014). Primary school teachers are expected to have knowledge about how to cover all curriculum areas listed in the national curriculum; however, teacher standards explicated by the Australian Institute for Teaching and School Leadership (AITSL) specify competencies only for literacy, numeracy and ICT (AITSL, 2014). Thus it is apparent that teacher registration boards rely heavily on the teacher training courses delivered by universities to ensure quality teaching and learning across curriculum areas. According to the National review of school music education in Australia, most problems faced by school music education stem from policy issues, the most unrealistic one being that quality classroom music outcomes will be attained by generalist teachers who lack necessary music training (Pascoe et al., 2005). In the decade since this observation was made, not a lot has changed (Joseph, 2015). A 2014 survey of four-year undergraduate teacher training programmes offered by Australian universities has revealed that 77% of universities offering four-year undergraduate primary teacher education courses also offered generalist arts training as a part of the course work (Fernandes, 2014). Using the approximation that most universities offer four units as a standard full-time load, with each unit running for approximately two hours for twelve weeks, the study concluded that 24 hours is spent on arts education within the entire undergraduate teacher training course. This would imply anywhere between six to twelve hours being spent on music education training. Instruction and practicum training in literacy, numeracy and science pedagogy in the same undergraduate teacher training courses account for around 35-65% of the coursework in teacher training. In stark contrast, instruction in music pedagogy accounts for around 3-6% of the coursework in most of the undergraduate primary teacher training courses.

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The same study also indicated that three of the Australian universities offering teacher education programmes offer an optional music education unit as a part of their coursework (Fernandes, 2014). Although the study did not investigate the content covered in the music education units, it can be concluded that pre-service teachers undertaking the music unit would be better prepared to teach music in primary classrooms. The Sydney Conservatorium of Music requires that apart from a grounding in music pedagogy, music teachers should also have a strong understanding of music history, music composition and analysis, music knowledge, and music technology, and must be competent in at least one musical instrument (Sydney Conservatorium of Music, 2014). Those students undertaking undergraduate studies in music are required to undergo an abundant amount of music training. While this requirement cannot be compared with those of generalist primary teacher training courses, it is necessary to note the depth of preparation offered by a music education course.

Digital Technologies and Primary School Music Education The digital evolution and electronic sharing of music have made it possible for music to be transmitted across the world in a matter of seconds – so much so, that conventional business models of distributing music were dramatically challenged by peer-to-peer technologies such as Napster at the change of the millennium (Lamont, 2013). Technology in the field of music education now helps stretch the boundaries of the field, allowing it to be accessed by a wider audience and expanding opportunities for teaching and learning, while also providing new opportunities for creativity. Music educators are often faced with the task of sourcing technology that can enhance teaching and learning and can fit in with the needs and demands of music education and its presence in primary schools. While tablets and iPads may provide solutions to the challenges present in primary school music education, a much stronger system-wide response is required to provide teachers with the necessary support, training and the infrastructure (Riley, 2013). Ruthmann (2005) explains that many technologies designed for music teaching and learning are not user-friendly to a primary school student audience. Young children possess diverse ranges of capabilities that are often still developing. In order to effectively utilise technology in the

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primary school music classroom, it is important to understand the confluence of children’s development, how children learn and what engages them meaningfully. New technologies have the potential to enable educators to extend students’ learning and keep them engaged (Kim, 2013). Several research studies have pointed out the numerous benefits offered by portable electronic devices to students facing challenges in their learning. IPads offer options of portability and less intrusiveness, and a recent European study has shown that children show a strong preference for this device [tablets]. The size of its screen, larger than a smartphone smaller than a PC, its portability, its easiness of use thanks to the touchscreen technology are the main assets of this device for children (Chaudron, 2015, p. 14).

There is a need for classroom music teachers to have access to technology that can be used effectively in the music classroom and in real educational settings. The National review of school music education in Australia identified a lack of curriculum support materials dealing with utilising technology in the music classroom and saw this significant gap as an impediment to teacher practice in this context (Pascoe et al., 2005). The review also reported that there is need to incorporate technology into the music classroom holistically, bearing in mind the music curriculum content, the context of music education in primary school education in Australia and the range of capabilities and pace of cognitive development typically seen in primary school aged children (Russell-Bowie, 2012; Pascoe et al., 2005). As previously discussed, technology in education can be described as a driving force behind transforming and maintaining relevant and sustainable learning environments in the classroom. The Australian National Curriculum now refers to technology as an integral component of modern education and highlights the importance of children learning to utilise technology as a tool to empower themselves in a knowledge-based economy (ACARA, 2014). However, the use of technology in the music classroom has also been shown to be dependent on several factors, including the socio-economic status of the school community, the funding received by the school, the time allocated to classroom music education and the level of expertise of the music teacher (McDowall, 2009). Technology can provide users with flexible control over how they learn, and this also applies to music education. Perhaps the greatest challenge in a classroom equipped for music is the difference in the environment compared with a classroom without such equipment. Music classrooms

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generally allow for greater freedom of movement and greater opportunities for creating noise. Technology can assist teachers to facilitate individualised instruction and overcome many barriers which can make music learning seem tedious and difficult (Zhou, Percival, Wang, Wang & Zhao, 2011).

Current Trends in Music Education in Australia, with Cross-references to Other Nations The 2014 review of the Australian curriculum has led to the revelation that Australian primary schools are unprepared to deliver quality music education to students (Australian Government DoE, 2014). Within primary schooling, music is integrated with other arts, and classroom teachers are expected to teach all curriculum areas listed in the national curriculum (ACARA, 2014). Integrating music education into primary school education is a common phenomenon in countries with top-performing education systems, such as Finland, Singapore, Korea, Hong Kong and China (Petrova, 2012). Despite the existence of successful global models of music education, Australian primary schools still struggle to effectively implement quality sequential classroom music education programmes (Joseph, 2015; Pascoe, et al., 2005). Arguably, examining the gap between policy and practice of music education in primary schools in Australia leads one to the most important factor which affects music education in schools: teacher training (Jeanneret, 2013; Wiggins & Wiggins, 2008; Letts, 2013; Petrova, 2012). In an analysis of the world’s ten best performing education systems, Barber and Mourshed (2007) found that developing teachers into skilful instructors is essential to ensure quality education for students. This factor alone can do much to ensure effective transfer of knowledge from teacher to student, resulting in students attaining quality learning outcomes. Accountability of teacher training programs is a key to improving students’ learning (Barber and Mourshed, 2007). Quality instruction leads to the development of sound musical knowledge, which in turn leads to an overall improvement in both children’s musical knowledge and their interest in music (Könings, Brand-Gruwel & Merriënboer, 2005; Ballantyne, 2001). Teacher accreditation standards detail competencies that teachers are required to possess in order to be recognised as competent (AITSL, 2014). Knowledge of student needs and professional requirements extend across almost every curriculum area (AITSL, 2014). Competencies deemed to be essential for music teachers include the ability

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to use and teach musical instruments, the ability to sing, the knowledge and skills to plan and implement sequential music lessons and the knowledge and application of appropriate pedagogy in present-day classrooms (Petrova, 2012; Ballantyne, 2005). Integrating technology into the music classroom in Australia can prove to be daunting, as well as challenging, as the premises underlying sequential implementation of technology in the music classroom are generally lacking in primary schools (Petrova, 2012; Pascoe, et al., 2005). However, recent studies show that integrating technology within current music education curriculum frameworks typically leads to one of two possibilities: either technology takes a strong precedence over music, resulting in the loss of playing (traditional) musical instruments and singing, or technology gets ignored, thus impeding its potential as a tool for learning (Petrova, 2012).

How Can Technology Be Used in Music Education? Music education can be explained as “an active experience in which children compose, perform and listen” (Mills, 1993, p. 1). Composing, performing and listening are interrelated activities that are all critical to developing a sound knowledge in music. Although the activities might vary in complexity and intensity, it remains clear that the participant, music and context must interact in the experience (Mitchell, 2014; Mills, 1993). With globalisation and technology encompassing almost every aspect of life, music education and learning are being redefined (Law & Ho, 2009). It is therefore important for education systems to move with changing times and implement policies that prepare children for the demands of creativity and innovation. Conversely, another challenge arising from globalisation is the merging of cultural boundaries which has threatened preservation of different forms of cultural expression, including musical heritage. Technology is increasingly present in the primary school classroom, and its presence has the potential to enhance the music learning experience. With the influence of technology, learning can take place at any time, and not necessarily within the four walls of the classroom. Technology, if harnessed effectively, has the ability to empower students to actively engage in their learning. Kim (2013) explains that technology-mediated teaching can enhance children’s engagement with music. Conventional practices in music education have involved a strong focus on developing

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competency in performance with a musical instrument. Given that schools face challenges with regard to space and access to musical instruments, incorporating mobile devices (such as tablets) can help overcome this constraint. In a trial of technology enhanced music learning in Singapore, the Music Mobile Group for Classroom Learning and Study in Schools (MOGCLASS) was created to support a multimodal, collaborative approach to music education in schools and to enhance children’s learning through the use of mobile devices (Zhou et al., 2011). During a trial in a Singapore primary school, the MOGCLASS showed to be effective in being able to be integrated into the curriculum and the classroom learning environment (Zhou et al., 2011). Teaching music in a classroom ideally requires the creation of opportunities for every student to interact and engage with the learning. Often, however, music education faces several challenges, such as limited time allocated to music classes, lack of funding, and limited resources for the music classroom. Digital technologies can help overcome these common issues and assist teachers in implementing activities that can engage all students. Savage (2007) explains that technologies in the music classroom can enable more effective classroom management, which is a precursor to better learning outcomes. Technologies can allow each child to participate in the learning process and take ownership for his or her own learning. Moreover, much of the literature on mobile technology highlights the affordances of the so-called “natural user interface” (NUI) of handheld devices because they can facilitate a more intimate connection than ordinary computers (Bruck & Rao, 2013). With the help of programmes such as Garage Band, Notion and UJam, students can be taught to produce their own music quite quickly. Alternatively, musical concepts such as ostinatos, scale patterns, chord formation, and rhythms of various music styles can be taught through instruction involving the use of virtual musical instruments. Virtual music games can range from asking children to tap the screen to maintain a steady beat with the music, to playing back a simple sequence of notes upon hearing it (see the web page at SFSKids.org). Involving children in the creation and practice of music constitutes experiential learning, and engaging children actively in the learning process makes their participation in music education more authentic (Crawford, 2009).

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Technology to Increase Exposure to a Variety of Music It is hard to ignore the impact of technology on the music industry, the innovative ways in which music is created and shared, and the ultimate transformation of the nature of the subject itself. As a consequence, this has an impact on the continuing professional learning requirements of teachers and it becomes necessary to adapt music teaching and learning experiences to align with contemporary social and cultural experiences. Importantly, utilising technologies in the music classroom also involves a transformation in teaching and learning pedagogies, which implies a revolution in teacher training in music pedagogy and professional development in music teaching (Hoffman & Carter, 2013). Technology in the music classroom has a huge potential to alter the way in which music education is experienced by students. Despite this, the inclusion of technologies in music teaching has been fairly limited, mainly due to the conflict between the rate of technological innovation and the limited time available to teachers to acquire the skills to manage these in the classroom. Conversely, globalisation has brought about a merge in cultural boundaries, thus enabling fusion of music as well as easier access to music from different cultures. Creating virtual field experiences of music from different cultures can also provide students with cross-cultural learning experiences. This lightweight approach to incorporating technology into the music classroom can be utilised by teachers with limited expertise in music from other cultures, as the internet can provide access to a range of teaching and learning resources. The bigger challenges associated with ensuring that teachers are adequately trained in music education remain, however, as Southcott and Crawford (2011) point out. Although the use of technology in the music classroom seems highly promising, it should not be embraced without a deep understanding of desirable music learning outcomes for students.

Technology for Assessment in Music Education Music being both an aural and performance art form may not lend itself easily to traditional forms of assessment, such as written tests and standardised testing. As a consequence, music often loses its presence in primary school education in favour of literacy, numeracy, science and technology. Traditional forms of assessment in music education include music recitals, theory tests, and aural tests, all of which are generally timeconsuming. Currently, music in primary schools focuses on providing

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children with an exposure to experiences in creating, listening to and performing compositions, and is less focussed on achieving competence in instrumental performance. Technological devices can be used to allow teachers to assess students’ work easily (Zhou et al., 2011). Portable electronic devices can enable teachers to monitor students’ work and provide immediate feedback, and allow students to save their work for future reflection. These facilities eliminate the constant need for audio and video recorders in the classroom, thus saving time used in data collection for assessment.

Conclusion Technology has a presence in almost every facet of life, be it social, business, personal or educational. It requires a serious amount of effort and planning to ensure it is put to effective use in education. It is therefore hard to ignore the aggregate effect that technology has and will have on student learning into the future (Mercer, 2007). However, how can it best be integrated into the music curriculum? It seems that in this era of rapid technological change, this question must be considered and re-considered routinely in order for effective policy and programs to be developed. Children develop and grow through effective nurturing and quality direction. In order for music education to equip students with skills for lifelong learning, it is important for research, practice, and public policy to influence each other in ensuring that children receive education of the highest quality. By providing children in the primary years with an appropriate environment to ensure they receive education that is authentic, relevant and pedagogically sound, children can be assured of a potent music foundation that paves the way for future learning. The 2005 review of music education in Australia provided evidence that Australia was unprepared to deliver quality music education in schools (Pascoe et al., 2005). A decade later a review of the Australian curriculum (Australian Government DoE, 2014) and critical commentary from renowned musician Richard Gill (2011) have echoed these arguments, emphasising that Australian schools lack the resources necessary to deliver quality music education programmes (Brown, 2014). The creation of an environment which supports the attainment of quality music education outcomes, training of teachers to effectively teach music in primary schools and thoughtfully integrate technology into primary school music education, is what Australia needs in order to provide children with

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opportunities for artistic imagination and creativity. This is what is taking place elsewhere in the world. Wiggins and Wiggins (2008) explain that empowering children with sufficient musical understanding will result in them becoming musically proficient as well as being able to express themselves creatively through music. Musicians have always utilised technology because musical instruments are themselves technological artefacts, and expanding the scope of a musical instrument is an act of creativity. Utilising technology in primary school music education would simply extend this and serve as a reflection of authentic practices in music as an art form. Technology can allow educators to differentiate their teaching, engage students in their learning and promote a more inclusive learning environment in the music classroom (Burns, 2006). Judicious use of digital technology in primary school music education should concern itself with enhancing student musical learning and should aim to achieve this goal through stronger collaboration among the teachers and educational authorities responsible for developing relevant policies and programs. Technology will continue to evolve, and music educators need to be prepared to accommodate these advances within changing paradigms for school music education, while bearing in mind the impact of technology on authentic student-centred learning. The legacies of recent approaches to primary school music education in Australia involve a multitude of conflicting policies which do not aid professional accountability in music education and which have resulted in the continuity of a failing music education system. Reasserting that children are the most important stakeholders within an education system might lead to practices in music education being implemented for their benefit. It is therefore necessary for all other stakeholders in school music education to be mutually and professionally responsible for providing children with quality education that is authentic and relevant. Addressing the deficiencies in the delivery of music education and preservice training seems to line up with addressing the digital technology competency requirements of generalist teachers. Technology is a natural part of children’s lives and to them its role in education does not pose a threat. The role of educators in providing optimum learning outcomes in a world of increasing technological capability and globalisation therefore remains – what is needed is ongoing realignment.

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CONTRIBUTORS

Editors Dr. Ania Lian is a Senior Lecturer in the School of Education, Charles Darwin University, Australia, Vice President for Research & Innovation of AsiaCALL (the Asia Association of Computer-Assisted-LanguageLearning), Chief Editor of the Online Journal of AsiaCALL, and a Member of a number of international advisory and editorial boards. Since 1993 she has mentored students in various universities in Australia, in areas of early literacy, second-language pedagogy, educational technology and quality assurance. Her research includes an on-going theorising of a dialogic-model of inquiry and its various forms of application in teaching and research. Her recent publications include “‘New Learning’ and CALL: A DIY paradigm”, AsiaCALL Online Journal (2014); “A dialogic framework for embedding graduate attributes in discipline-based degree curricula”, Rangsit Journal of Arts & Science (2012); and “Making our learning environments interactive: A critique of the concept of interaction in second language acquisition studies”, in M. Mantero (Ed.), ISLS readings in language studies (2008). Professor Peter Kell is Pro Vice Chancellor of Law, Education, Business and the Arts at Charles Darwin University, Australia. Professor Kell was previously Head of the School of Education, at Charles Darwin University and a Director of the Centre for Lifelong Learning Research and Development (CLLRD) at the Hong Kong Institute of Education. Professor Kell’s research interests include teacher education, global student mobility, the internationalization of education and training in the Asia Pacific and literacy and language in East Asia. In 2014 Peter Kell was awarded a Northern Territory Fulbright Senior scholarship to undertake a research programs in internationalising postgraduate education programs at the University of Illinois (Urbana-Champaigne). Recent publications include (with M. Kell) Literacy and language in East Asia: Shifting meanings, values and approaches (2014, Springer). Peter Kell has also recently authored several books with G. Vogl, including International students in the Asia Pacific: Mobility, risks and global optimism (2012, Springer). In 2012 and 2014, he has conducted a range of international



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projects, including the Steps to the future: A cooperative workshop on the education training in East Timor, with T. Kersten, L. Sushames and R. Wallace. Dr. Paul Black is an Honorary Fellow in the School of Education, Charles Darwin University, having retired as a Senior Lecturer in 2015. After completing a doctorate in linguistics, he came to Australia in 1974 to undertake descriptive and comparative studies of Australian Indigenous languages, for which many of his publications relate to his specialisation in comparative lexicostatistics. In the 1980s he became increasingly involved in applied and educational linguistics, after which he joined the (then) Faculty of Education in 1990. Subsequently he provided both the on-campus and external delivery of applied linguistics and continued to publish in areas of language education (most recently (with Z. Chen) “The treatment of Chinese culture in the New Practical Chinese Reader”, Rangsit Journal of Social Sciences and Humanities, 2016) as well as on Australian Indigenous languages (most recently “The rate of lexical change in Australia: Evidence from Larrakia”, Australian Journal of Linguistics, 2016). He is also a joint editor and joint contributor (with G. Geng & P. Smith) to a forthcoming volume on The challenge of teaching — Through the eyes of pre-service teachers (Springer). Professor Koo Yew Lie is Adjunct Professor, Graduate International Centre of Education, School of Education, Charles Darwin University Australia; Honorary Professorial Associate, Faculty of Languages and Cultures SOAS, University of London, UK; and Associate Research Fellow, Institut Penyelidikan Pendidikan Tinggi Negara/National Higher Education Research Institute, Malaysia. She researches, teaches and publishes in the areas of language, culture and literacy in multilingual environments. Her recent publications include “The pluralist literacies of Malaysian Chinese learners in higher education”, in P. Kell & G. Vogl (Eds.), Higher education in the Asia Pacific: Challenges for the future (2007, Springer); “The politics of cultural production and meaning-making in ELT: Exploring a reflexive pedagogy of pluriliteracy in higher education”, in Z. Moris, H. A. Rahim & S. A. Manan (Eds.), Higher education in the Asia Pacific: Emerging trends in teaching and learning; and “Multicultural meaning-makers in the 21st century: The case of Malaysian ways with words and with the world”, in P. Kell, M. Singh & S. Shore (Eds.), Adult education@21st century (2004, Peter Lang).



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Other Contributors Dr. Yoshi Budd is a lecturer in Teaching and Learning, School of Education, Charles Darwin University, Australia, with specialisation in primary and secondary English-literacy and Languages Other Than English. She is also an Adjunct Lecturer at the Tasmanian Institute of Teaching and Learning, University of Tasmania. Yoshi’s research involves an ongoing interest in the relationship between cultural change, language, and literacy pedagogy; and the use of qualitative research methods congruent with critical and feminist-poststructuralist theoretical frameworks. Her recent publications include (with Moran, A., Allen, J. & Williamson, J.), “Preparing Tasmanian English teachers for curriculum implementation”, in N. Fitzallen, R. Reaburn & S. Fan (Eds.), The future of educational research: Perspectives from beginning researchers (2013); and (with J. Dyment & J. Downing), “Framing teacher educator engagement in an online environment” (Australian Journal of Teacher Education, 2013). Professor Peter Freebody is an Honorary Professor at the University of Sydney, and a Fellow of the Academy of the Social Sciences in Australia. His research activities are in literacy education, educational disadvantage, classroom interaction, and research methodology. He has contributed journal papers, book chapters, and invited entries in international handbooks and encyclopedias on literacy and research methodology. He has also served on several Australian state and national government advisory groups in the areas of literacy education and curriculum design. He was lead author of the framework paper for the first national English Curriculum in Australia. He was a member of the Literacy Research Panel of the International Literacy Association 20112016, and Chair of that Panel 2015-2016. He is the 2014 recipient of that Association’s W.S. Gray Citation for lifelong contribution to literacy education internationally. Professor Andrew-Peter Lian is Professor of Foreign Language Studies and Director of the Technology-Enhanced Language Learning Unit, School of Foreign Languages, Suranaree University of Technology, Thailand. He is also Professor of Postgraduate Studies in English Language Education at Ho Chi Minh City Open University, HCMC, and Professor Emeritus of Languages and Second Language Education at the University of Canberra. Prior to moving to Thailand, he held five (full) professorial appointments and department headships in Australia (Bond University, James Cook University, University of Canberra) and the



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United States (Rice University, Western Illinois University). He is one of the pioneers of Technology-Enhanced Language-Learning in Australia since the early 1980s. His groundbreaking research builds on the work of Professor Petar Guberina (Croatia) and his approach to the pathology of hearing and speech known as verbo-tonalism. Professor Lian is an author of the book Intonation patterns of French and a multitude of articles and software applications to support second language learning. He has also written community programs (online calendars and databases) to support elderly and community organisations in Australia. His current research interests include the development of rhizomatic, technology-supported, self-adjusting (language-)learning environments. Dr. Jon Mason joined the School of Education at Charles Darwin University in 2014. Prior to taking on this position he was Director of eLearning for two years at the Centre for School Leadership, Learning and Development, also located within CDU. Before moving to Darwin he worked as a consultant in ICT standards development, digital learning, and knowledge management for five years during which time he also lectured in Digital Leadership at QUT. He has worked extensively in international ICT specifications and standards development since 1998, initially as the founding co-chair of the Dublin Core Education Working Group but more generally within the digital learning domain, including the IMS Global Learning Consortium and the IEEE Learning Technology Standards Committee. From 2005-2007 he worked as the editor of the International e-Framework for Education and Research, a collaborative project involving Australia, New Zealand, the U.K., and the Netherlands. His recent publications include a special issue of Systems (with T. Nguyen, C. Gütl, & K. Nakabayashi) Adaptive educational technology systems (2015); “Opening digital learning for deeper inquiry”, in Ally, M. & B. H. Khan, The international handbook of e-learning (2015); and “The why dimension, dialogic inquiry, and technology supported learning”, in S. Feller & I. Yengin (Eds.), 21st century education: Constructing meaning and building knowledge in technology supported learning environments (2014). Professor Brian Mooney is Professor of Philosophy and Head of the School of Creative Arts and Humanities, Charles Darwin University, Darwin, Australia. He has an international reputation in moral philosophy, the theory and practice of education, professional and applied ethics, political theory, jurisprudence and social justice, as well as ancient Greek and mediaeval philosophy. He has a distinguished teaching record in these areas. He has published extensively on various aspects of applied



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philosophy, teaching and learning, critical thinking and the theory and practice of education, having eclectically published in Aesthetics, Metaphysics, Philosophy of Science, Philosophy of Religion and History of Ideas. He is author, co-author and editor of 10 books and more than 50 articles. His recent books in the philosophy of education include Aquinas, education and the East (with M. Nowacki, 2013); Morality and meaning: The legacy of Julius Kovesi (with A. Tapper); and Understanding teaching and learning: Classic texts on education by Augustine, Aquinas Newman and Mill (with M. Nowacki, 2011). Professor Sven Silburn is Director of the Centre for Child Development and Education, Menzies School of Health Research, Charles Darwin University, Darwin, Australia. He is a national leader in clinical, epidemiological and evaluative research in child development and education, with influential publications that include major epidemiological studies of child health and school readiness. He is member of the Steering Committee for the Longitudinal Study of Indigenous Children (LSIC), a lead investigator on an NHMRC funded “Too Solid” Indigenous parenting study in Perth, and is leading the evaluation of the NT Department of Education and Training’s “Strong Start- Bright Futures” program now being developed in 20 communities across the Northern Territory. Current projects include Early developmental pathways linking health, disability, education, welfare and justice, 2010-2015; Development and evaluation of a program for Aboriginal parents to build strong families and give children a healthy start, 2005-2011; and the Transforming Indigenous education research and evaluation partnership (Menzies & NT DET). Dr. Sue Erica Smith is a Senior Lecturer in the School of Education, Charles Darwin University, Australia. From an extensive teaching background in primary, secondary and tertiary education settings, a country upbringing and being a keen traveler, Sue continues to explore equity and ethics in education. Her research interests are in meditation, social and emotional wellbeing, spirituality, Asian studies and Buddhism. She has published Buddhist voices in schools: How a community created a Buddhist education program for state schools, (2013, Sense). She brings her love of narrative inquiry into research supervision in a chapter “A precarious path ... with heart” in M. Ryan (Ed.), Reflections on learning, life and work: Completing doctoral studies in mid and later career (2012, Sense). She has also contributed an article, “Inequities in Religious Instruction persist to the detriment of our children” to Opinion in ABC Religion and Ethics (December 7, 2012) and (with A. Halafoff) “A



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question of faith: reforming religious education in schools” in The Conversation (November 8, 2012).

Master of Education (International) coursework students Adam Bodnarchuk, Justina Fernandes, Nick Hancock, Melissa Kelaart, Therese Kersten, Sonya Mackenzie, Kath Midgley, Cindy Napiza, Amy Norman, Katrina Railton, Dawnie Tagala, Tania Tamaotai.